Being a married woman now, I am, in fact, far too elegant and mature to engage in any sort of seasonal pageantry or casual workplace costume contest, and far too busy on my week-ends with the errands and the preparing of things for my husband to drive way out of my way for costume piece so that I might be a Pig in a Blanket. No time for such tomfoolery. This terrifying nose just comes with my face.
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.
OH HI IT’S ME AGAIN, with wedding details that only matter to myself and family and perhaps a stalker here or there. Today: the ceremony, which was held outside under a pecan tree because Pie.
We decided to get married by a lovely Reverend who came recommended to us by the venue. We started out way back in January, when the Reverend sent us a whole bunch of sample ceremonies. Being that we are both mildly allergic to cliche, we ended up making a lot of it our own, writing out our own version of formal parts. It should go on record, though, that we didn’t realize until a few days before that we FORGOT TO PUT THE PART WHERE WE SAY I DO.
My favorite section was definitely the welcome:
Good evening! How serendipitous that you all happen to be here, right here, right now, because it just so happens that all of the sudden, in a completely unplanned fashion, Bekah and James have decided to get married. Right here. Right now. We are gathered here today to bear witness as they join their lives together. They are honored and delighted that you are randomly here today.
Thankfully the Reverend was totally game and in fact riffed off our jokes like a subtle and reverent Rodney Dangerfield. My second favorite part was this:
Reverend: Bekah, repeat after me, with this ring, I thee wed…
I just stand there, staring off into space.
Reverend:….Bekah? Repeat after me?
Me: OH! Sorry. I forgot what was happening for a second.
What had really happened was, we had accidentally skipped the part in which we say our vows, which we had both worked quite hard on, and I was trying to figure out how to elegantly bring that up. I then elegantly segued with ‘WE WANT TO SAY THE VOWS WE WROTE, NOW.’ And so, we did. I would put them here but I think some things belong between two hearts and hard drives, but I will say that we both, independent of each other, vowed a lot of food related things.
Blaine and Carrie then read some excerpts from Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. Why, here we are, staring at them as they do:
My favorite part:
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.
I love this quote. Within a marriage, life can stay active, still searching, still wondering, just with a new layer of warmth beneath the asking. Marriage is not just answers, marriage is questions. And according to our ceremony, marriage is also JOKES AND FOOD. COUNT US IN, MAN!
FACT: The Brunstetters are not great dancers, by nature or trade.
ALSO FACT: The Foster-Keddies, by contrast, are in fact VERY GOOD DANCERS.
MOST IMPORTANT FACT: Morrison took ballroom dancing in high school and is in fact a VERY VERY VERY GOOD DANCER. We practiced a bit at home, but mostly I just tried to trust that he would lead me, which he did (INSERT MARRIAGE METAPHOR.) For our first dance — Sam Cooke’s You Send Me — I just let him do his fancy knee and footwork things, and spin me around a bunch while I laughed gleefully and floated around on my own feelings.
ANOTHER DANCE RELATED FACT: My poor wonderful Dad took dance lessons and learned a special father / daughter dance, which I then also learned. But by the time I was done with my husband dance, I had no dance left in me. And so, I found the father / daughter dance — Nat King Cole’s Unforgettable — to be, in fact, VERY FORGETTABLE, by which I mean I just sort of forgot all of it, and I buried my face in my Dad and said something to the effect of, I can’t, and so we just laughed and swayed like amateurs who had never had lessons at all,
But most importantly, we laughed and we laughed and we laughed, and it was better than any dance that could have been planned, or you know, slaved over for the course of WEEKS. SORRY DAD!
Oh, did you want content UNRELATED to the beautiful weekend / life experience I just had? Feel free to check back in approximately one year once I’ve come back down. I have every intention of slowly trotting out memories and moments here so that I continue to fully remember every moment of it. It’s still kind of a blur, even though apparently, I’ve been informed that the moonshine at the reception in fact made me stomp around shouting to people, I FEEL SO PRESENT! And so today, on the Wedding, the train of my dress — pictured here with my Grandma’s mink:
It was long. Like epic long. When I got the dress I knew it was slightly impractical, being that the ceremony was in the grass under a tree, and that the reception was in a horse stable. But I loved its fairy queen-ness AND its impracticality. But after the I do’s and pictures, the best feeling ever was just LETTING THE THING GO AND DRAG THROUGH THE DIRT.
There is something amazing about getting very dressed up and then letting it all go. It felt so freeing. The release of tension, literal and figurative.
Once Morrison and I were married, he finally got to open my box, BY WHICH I OF COURSE MEAN the delicately wrapped gift containing a letter I had to write to my future husband in sixth grade sunday school:
I somehow managed to keep and preserve said box for 22 years, thanks to my obsession with old childhood things and how they indicate that we are basically the same people for our entire lives. The box itself is like a tiny vision board before vision boards were a thing:
And its contents are hilarious and naive and sweet and bear traces of an early warped sense of a humor based deeply in puns and bad spelling.
So happy I ended up with a ‘stud of studs’ instead of a ‘dud of duds’ (?) who actually finds this amusing; does not run away, screaming.
Sometimes we are smart and good with planning, so we gave ourselves a day in the mountains after the wedding / after everyone left, before we re-integrated into real life, because our brains are currently a mush of YOU: SPOUSE and LOVE: GOOD. We awoke to the kind of sunrise that makes you feel at once tiny and important:
And spent the morning frolicking through and staring at my absolute favorite weather.
I know I’m deluded, but I’ve decided that every married day is like this if you allow it the space to be, though sometimes you are ignoring each other, sometimes you or they are the most annoying person in the world, sometimes one of you are covered in dirt or stress or puke. But then you close your eyes, after rubbing the puke off them so it doesn’t get in your contact lens, and you remember how very simple and good it can be.
They say the day after your wedding, you will collapse into a sea of feelings and exhaustion. We are pretty much the same, except the sea is made of ALL THE SNACKS THAT PEOPLE LEFT BEHIND IN THEIR CABINS, and my personal ‘collapse’ is more of a ‘let’s see how many things I have been depriving myself of can I happily force into my body in one sitting OH LOOK THERE IS STILL SOME CAKE.’ It’s genuinely the best feeling ever. It is just bliss. I feel taken, calm, provided for and warm and secure and safe and MAYBE THIS IS WHAT IT IS TO HAVE CARBS IN YOUR BODY.
One of the nice things about marrying a fellow theater person: it is just another day of the show, in a series of other days of the show’s. There will be more shows. Some smaller, some larger, but none as personal, vital or sweet. OFF TO PRACTICE MY LINEEEESSSSSS!