I spent the majority of my day yesterday thinking about dinner. This is not an exception to the norm by any means, but I usually don't have a clear picture of what dinner looks like until I'm standing in front of the pantry. But yesterday, it was different. I knew what I'd be having, I even pre-planned it the night before when I set out a pot of Great Northern beans to soak for the white beans and cabbage I was going to eat. (Don't worry, it will still happen and it will still be delicious, although I suspect you don't feel you have missed anything with a name like "white beans and cabbage," but you'll see what I mean.)
So I hurried home to what would've been a My Husband Isn't Home So I'm Not Making Meat night, only to find said husband manning the grill, complete with button-down shirt and tie, grilling steaks, shrimp kabobs, romaine lettuce (yes!), sweet potatoes and for the love of everything good - he even made homemade Ranch dressing. The trickery of it all! The way he called off work! The way we hmm'd and haw'd over that meal! The way I still sit here, smiling smugly to myself, as to how I could ever be so lucky. And he took me to see the new X-Men. Yes, that was my choice.
That, of course, got me thinking about our wedding. The wedding that started this ball rolling. The wedding that had to happen if that grilled dinner was to ever exist. God knew what he was doing. And then I thought how I never really shared the day with you, and really, that just wasn't cool. Sure, there was a slight teaser photo, but that was nothing. I feel I skipped over it, breezed on by, moved right past pre-wedding weight to post-wedding weight, the ol' I'm Married So I'm Letting Myself Go. I've seen it 100 times.
The boys looked incredibly sharp.
I have no idea who this is. It could be the headless horseman for all I know. Or maybe the headless groomsman. Sorry, that was lame.
I was taped, stitched, sewn, and packed into that dress. More or less. It was all good until our server put a plate overflowing with prime rib, crab cake, bacon-wrapped asparagus and macaroni and cheese in front of me. Then I thought I might explode.
They are bad. Very, very bad. And this right before they came to the church!
And if I may digress for just a moment here on the matter of finding a church for your wedding - it was a miserable task. You see, the church I attend meets in a school, so all we really needed was someone willing to rent us their building for a few hours. Sweet Maria, never in my wildest dreams did I think we would've been put through the ringer that way. In my mind, I thought, "Shoot! We're Christians! Surely a brother or sister would understand our situation and sympathize." But no. They did not. We were given a flat-out "no" from more than half of the churches we called, others wanted an obscene amount of money (I'm sorry, but it does not cost $800 to run a building for 2 hours), and others questioned us on our religion, date of baptism, testimony, last Bible verse we memorized, insisted we use their preacher, their pre-marital counseling, attend their services for X amount of time prior to the wedding, etc.
It was nuts, I tell you, nuts. And not nice. And frustrating. Someone finally took pity on us. Gold star in Heaven for them.
But oh, swoooon. He looked so very handsome. And not nervous.
But not my Dad. He was...well, you know.
So there we are, gettin' ready to say some vows to each other. It felt sort of surreal and strange and like we were in a movie. I tried to remind myself that it was real, even though I so badly wanted to do this.
And then we thanked God for everything He had done (so far!).
And I was so glad to be outside in the breeze. I was so afraid it would be freezing, that our guests would be chattering and our day would be icy-miserable. But no, it was in the 60s and breezy and sunny and glorious. And if memory serves me right, I'm fairly certain it was the only weekend in March that wasn't terrible.
And we had some friends.
Lots of people we love.
And we had each other. Forever, now.
And look! Already! Our first effort in teamwork!
And oh, how nice that breeze felt. That dress was awfully warm, possibly due to the fact that I didn't bother shaving the top half of my legs, not even for my wedding. I could've spun there all day long, just me and that dreamy police officer.
And then we went and partied for hours and hours. And Justin was inappropriate and made me blush.
And we had hoards of cookies. It's a Pittsburgh thing. I married a Pittsburgh boy. But I will forever loathe their sports teams. Just so you know.
My younger brother brought those hipster glasses to the reception, and I think by midnight, every single guest had worn them. It was actually sort of gross.
I just love her.
And him, too.