OH SO YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH WEDDING TALK? NO MA’AM. I have a head cold that just won’t quit and stress and fatigue just in general, but what I also have is THIS MOMENT WHEN I HID IN AN OFFICE WITH MY BRIDESMAIDS BEFORE WALKING UP THE AISLE, SIPPING TEQUILA AND SHOVING PEANUT M&Ms AND GOLDFISH CRACKERS INTO MY FACE AND I NEVER FELT SO BEAUTIFUL.
Because not all bridesmaids could make the Vegas trip, as some are with child, both inside and outside of their bodies, and also because I’m the luckiest girl in the world, Julien (my oldest friend in the world) threw me a beautiful bridal luncheon the day before the wedding. And because she is a genius person, it was a MAKE YOUR OWN TOAST PARTY, complete with a charming toast menu that matched our invitation, and specialty wine glasses with my friends’ nicknames for me all over them, and of course, buckets and buckets of rosé.
Wait, let’s take a closer look at that there menu:
It was only one of the greatest afternoons of my life. I got to sit around with six of my most world favorite gals, eating toast. I got to gift them all with flannel shirts and overly earnest love letters to our friendships. Most bestly, I asked them all to give me marriage advice, either based on their own marriages, or marriages they have witnessed, or just, you know, advice.
Some favorites: Give each other time and space, especially after having a baby. PATIENCE. Really, really don’t go to bed angry. And it’s gonna be hard sometimes, but it’s great. And don’t hide things from each other, but keep a few things just for yourself. And Let him play video games. Bekah, just let him do it.
My advice to YOU: FIND AND BE FRIENDS WITH THESE EXACT WONDROUS WOMEN.
EXCEPT THAT SKETCHY CHARACTER IN THE OVERALLS. STAY AWAY. ONE MOMENT OF FRIENDSHIP WITH HER AND SHE WILL FILL YOUR APARTMENT WITH EARNEST NOTES.
GOOD AFTERNOON, and welcome back to the joyful spin cycle in my head! Today, the decor. When you wed beneath fall foliage, you really don’t need much, so we just went with some simple Decorative Wedding signs (lovingly crafted by Morrison’s awesome bro John and his wife, Jacy):
And then some simple basic everyday framed pictures of Cracker at every table.
We also put bowls of skittles at each table because skittles. Our florist is the kind of gal who simply picks mountain wild flowers the day before and brings them over, so that the whole thing seems like a beautiful coincidence. Here’s the main big guy that my Dad HAPPILY loaded on his truck when my Mom attempted to take it home and preserve it, and even more happily took it back off when it definitely didn’t fit:
As for the cake, I just so happen to have gone to high school with a phenomenal baker, Jessica. She made three beautiful chocolate pound cakes, one of which we ate with our hands the next day, another of which we will eat with our hands in one year:
New Years, a few years back, Morrison and I spent an absurd amount of time dreaming up a cobbler truck business, with eight very specific flavors with very specific names. And so, we also went the cobbler route at the reception. Jessica made these wondrous mini jars of rosemary blackberry and peach ginger cobbler:
Guests dumped the cobblers over vanilla ice cream, like the perfect kind that comes from a bucket. Special thanks to our other high school friend, Missy, for helping make the table look like PINTEREST COME TO LIFE THAT ALSO YOU CAN EAT.
1. It’s been unseasonably warm so far this year in the North Carolina mountains.
2. Really all I have ever wanted is a fall wedding with fall weather and feelings.
3. I mean I guess technically, I have also wanted other things, but this has been my wedding related wish.
4. When we arrived yesterday, it was a balmy 80 degrees.
5. Early this morning, the most stunning clouds and drizzle moved in over the mountains, bringing the fall weather with it, AND ALSO NOT ONE BUT TWO RAINBOWS, as if to say, here you are, my dear. Your wish.
HENCEFORTH AND THEREFORE / PROOF OF GOD.
Oh nothing, just Morrison’s nephew Morrison bringing the heat with the same at once loving and unsettling eyes that his Uncle has, or as his mom aptly put it, ‘casually staring into your soul.’
I love the Dixie Chicks. I am a cliche. I don’t even CARE. These gals got me through high school. They are the very sound an old blue Beretta makes combined with tradition and optimism and bravery a deep yearning to run far and alone. They have soundtracked my plays and their Landslide cover is the only thing that truly calms me down. Last night, I got to see them live, some 20 years after they first happened. Not only did they slay / cover Beyonce / do classics / push limits, there was ALSO MILD YET EFFECTIVE SOCIAL AND POLITICAL COMMENTARY, to the point where, during this particular song:
My friend Mary leaned over, and sort of stunned-said, Look at this. We live in America. God Bless these gals from their boots to their banjos. SLAY FOREVER, CHICKS.
We had the honor of being included in a Rosh Hoshanah dinner last night, and my main take away, other than the weird and beautiful feeling the sung prayers gave me: LORD, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING SNICKERDOODLE MAC N CHEESE ALL MY LIFE, READ: KUGEL, WITH ITS LAYERS OF PASTA AND CINNAMON AND EVERYTHING IN THE DAIRY CASE CAREFULLY PILLOWED IN A PAN?
OH, IN THAT OTHER RELIGION THAT IS IN FACT IN MY BLOOD AND HISTORY THAT MY GRANDMOTHER, BLESS HER HEART, KEPT TRYING TO TEACH ME ABOUT? OKAY COOL SEE YOU IN SYNAGOGUE.
I’M TALKIN TO YOU MRS.
Definitely didn’t make Morrison take this picture of me by my credit at all, because I’m a producer now and basically just far too busy and important and self-aware to do such childish and unproducerish and braggidocious type things.
A few months ago, I happened upon these childrens’ overalls in a vintage store, and obviously I bought them because HOW COULD YOU NOT.
My idea: to send them to darling nephew Luke, in the hopes that when he grew out them, they would be passed to another cousin to wear, and then to another, and then to another, until all of the grown adult cousins sit around a bonfire someday, making fun of their lame parents, remembering how they once all were made to wear the same pair of overalls. I’M HAPPY TO ANNOUNCE: IT BEGINS.