The day felt like a blur. A cross between floating on a cloud and having an out-of-body experience. Maybe it was all the stimulation or a glass too much of champagne. Majority of the night I was on a five second delay. There’s pressure for your wedding to be the “best day of your life.” There’s pressure for it to be memorable for your friends and family, too.
I wish I remembered more, mingled more, had more photos. You trade in conversations with one guest for another, sacrifice eating a fluffy piece of wedding cake for time on the dance floor. The night was over in a flash and no matter how many times people told me to soak it all in and stay present, I couldn’t ignore the nagging desire to be at all places at once. For a long time, I held onto the idea that I fell short of my hostess duties; of checking in to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves and encouraging them to take multiple party favors home because we allotted for extras. Offering introductions to table mates and bringing up their mutual interests. Seeing guests off before they headed to the airport one by one. There wasn’t enough time or enough of me to go around.
Jordan and I celebrated our five year wedding anniversary over the weekend and with some distance, I can fully appreciate our wedding for what it was (not just what I was lacking). The day was unique and lively and tailor made for us.
More than half our guests came from out of state so it was important to me that they experience the redwoods we know and love. Luckily the hail from the morning cleared. Friends and family rode the vintage steam train at Roaring Camp to the top of Black Mountain. The thrifted carpet was my “something borrowed.” I walked down the aisle to The Beatles with my Mom and Dad and The Beach Boys hand in hand with Jordan.
Unbeknownst to our guests, Jordan accidentally ordered a ceramic urn instead of a pot for our tree-planting ceremony. An honest and hilarious mistake that I couldn’t get upset over. He and his brother ran to the hardware store to find a suitable replacement just on time. The tree we planted after our vows died within a year. Naturally we blamed the urn for its early demise. Neither of us had the heart to get rid of it. My eucalyptus crown is wrapped about the gold and blue urn. It’s sits in our bedroom collecting change, a sweet but kind of morbid memory that only we share.
Prior to the toasts, we heard murmurings of there not being enough cork openers to spread around. Our groomsman, Chris, stealthily stepped in and opened every table’s champagne bottle with a knife. A fancy party trick he got to impress upon our guests. The sound of glass breaking followed by a roar of cheering and chuckles came from each table, charming Aunts from both sides of the family.
A nostalgic mix of 60’s, 70’s and 90’s hits played under a sparkly disco ball. Late into the dancing, my bridesmaid and Leslie Knope to my Ann Perkins, Margaret made her way to the stage and serenaded me with a tipsy rendition of Mariah Carey’s “You’ll Always Be My Baby.” People swayed their arms, lighters in hand—a signal to the DJ to let her finish the impromptu performance. It was such a hit that another friend requested an encore for her wedding.
At the end of the evening, our MVP groomsmen Chris placed a large order at Taco Bell where a group of us took over the Hilton lobby. I had never been so well-dressed eating a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The stress of planning and the heady buzz of alcohol wore off and in its place was a steady stream of dopamine. I got the chance to properly catch up with my people. Old friends from out of town hit it off with newer friends from Santa Cruz. I didn’t need to play hostess. They were having a good time all on their own.
Two guests actually met at our wedding and are still dating to this day.
The mishaps and surprises helped shake me out of my overstimulated haze and into the present. They left the biggest thumbprints on our big day.
A traditional wedding where everything goes as planned sounds a little boring to me, anyway.
The Wobbly Table Blog 