Month: July 2013

What I Really Meant To Say

‘Are you going make a speech?’ Neil asked me, before and during the wedding. ‘I’ll do one if you forget anything in yours,’ I said. ‘I won’t. But you should say something, anyway. I don’t want a sexist weddingslashmarriage.’ ‘Reason a billion and 31 why I love you.’ Anyway. During his speech, my Dad told a story I mentioned in this post, and said that Lorna’s Dad is the best title he’s ever had. Well, being his daughter is pretty awesome, too. The best man brought George Bailey-Penguin on the stage with him. And then my husband got up and said marrying me was better than winning an Oscar. It’s funnier in context, but that was my favourite part of the whole thing. Followed by the part where he thanked Morgan Freeman for narrating his life. Anyway. Since the boys seemed to be having a good time, I got up there. Without notes, and with tears in my voice. Here’s what I think I said. I’m happy I did, but I forgot the bold bits, until now.   If I’d actually written a speech, it would have looked something like this: Some of you may be surprised I haven’t written anything for this. I’m better on paper, but I wanted to thank everyone for sharing today with us. It would have been cool to get married on our own,...

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This Bride Really Did Cut The Cake

This was our wedding cake:   This was me actually cutting the cake.  With my concentration face on.  Apparently:   My thoughts went like this:  Are we actually s’posed to cut it?  Is this freaking marzipan?  I hate marzipan.  I specifically told the cake people ‘no marzipan.’  Oh, well.  The mint chocolate layer will make up for it.  And the toffee layer.  And the Baileys layer.  And even the gluten-free layer.  Is Neil actually holding the glass penguins in place so my knife-skills don’t cause a disaster?  Or is he moving them?  Such a smart guy I married.  I’m cutting this thing.  Are we actually s’posed to cut it? I can think really fast. And I think that this is my favourite cake shot:   Starting as we mean to go on, together.  Only without the knife for the rest of time. Notice the glass penguins are in a safer spot? Photos taken by a bunch of people who love us slightly more than they loved the cake.  Maybe....

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Making It So

‘Where’s Neil?’ ‘There he is,’ Dad says. ‘Where?’ ‘There. The guy in the kilt, waitin’ for you.’ ‘Holy shit.’ For awhile, I couldn’t see him. And then he was all I saw. Somehow, we made it down the aisle. And Daddy’s poking me in the shoulder. ‘Flowers,’ he says. ‘What?’ ‘Give Jess your flowers.’ ‘Oh, yeah. HERE!’ At which point I might have given my Maid of Awesome a giant paper-cut. In the face. Because, y’know, my flowers were paper. And I’m going up the ramp to the stage. ‘You OK?’ I ask Dad. ‘Oh, aye,’ he says. I flashback to other ramps and other stages. I’ve come a long way from Third Muchkin on The Left. Thanks for the lift, Daddy. The look on Neil’s face is one I’ve never seen before. Really. I don’t know whether to kiss him or tackle hug him. So I touch him. On the knee. He has really nice knees. There’s tape on the stage and I park on it. And the officiant is saying ‘Who gives this woman?’ And I’m like, what woman? And Dad’s hugging me, I hope I told him I love him. Because I do. Neil looks terrified. But beautiful. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ he says. ‘So are you.’ We’re whispering. I hope. And the officiant is talking and I’m listening. I hope. I hope. I know. And then Neil...

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Are We There Yet?

Growing up, there was a church down the street from the house where my heart lived. Grandma and I would pass the church on the way to spend my allowance on baseball cards, Cherry Coke bubble-gum and Wintergreen Tic-Tics. Most Saturdays, there was a wedding at the church and Grandma and I would try and catch a glimpse of the bride, but never stayed long enough to seem like we were staring, or wedding-crashers. ‘Think that’ll be me someday?’ ‘Of course,’ Grandma would say. ‘You’ll meet somebody wonderful and the weather will be even better than today.’ I believed her, because that’s what I did. I never forgot what she said, but I was more interested in baseball cards. Saying that, we came home from our shopping sprees and I’d make her break out her white photo album, looking at the photos and twisting her wedding set while it was still on her hand. That’s as close as I got to praying. For somebody wonderful. And good weather. Now. Nobody wanted to share a room with me the night before I got married. My sister-in-law drew the short straw, after being told ‘Lorna is a restless sleeper.’ To be fair, I didn’t sleep much anyway, restless or not. My thoughts went like this: What time is it? Holy shit, I’m getting married! I gotta pee. I should practice my...

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