I thee wed.
It's hard to take the time and energy to sit down and write. So much has flitted in and out these mental windows in the past weeks. I know I've lost many of my ruminations, much of my feelings and memories. I'll try to record them as best as possible.
The end of last semester has come and gone, but with it I've grown up a little more. This Saturday was my one-month wedding anniversary.
People tell you so many different things about being married and also about getting married. They told me on my wedding day I'd be too starry-eyed to remember anything or think about any of the small details. I felt my eyes were a bit clearer that day than I expected.
We'd stayed up until at least midnight the night before putting the finishing touches on decorations, sweeping out the house, moving the furniture, and hanging pictures on the very, very sparse white walls. I shouldn't, but I still feel guilty for not having enough pictures or quite the right pictures or some of the little details I imagined. Having those tiny things would have likely only satisfied my own vanity and not really been noticed.
The house was clean, the pictures were hung, the lanterns, candles and crystals decked the boughs of the trees and lined the wrought-iron archway curling around behind the house. The cake was baked, the food was bought, the bouquets delivered. My family was fed on Costa Vida - we ate cross-legged on our freshly-swept and completely bare wood floor, sipping plastic cups full of diet soda among piles of napkins and plastic utensils.
Mom and I drove up to Bountiful the night before. We picked Dad up from the airport on the way and we talked. I can't really remember what we talked about - I'm sure advice was given, feelings imparted, stories told. I felt peaceful watching the highway slip beneath the front headlights. I can remember just the lights and feeling wistful.
One of the stories I do remember was Dad's - losing his recommend the morning of his own wedding. We realized Mom had left hers in Seattle. It was tucked in a different bag, anomalously not where it usually was. We made some calls - she didn't miss it.
Janis put up an air mattress for me in the living room. I woke up to the sound of Sesame Street and breakfast clattering in the kitchen. My phone had two text messages on it. Jessie and Megan with good wishes. I should have said thanks or something clever but I suppose I was a little starry at the moment. I was going to be married in only a few hours.
I printed out a few more pictures to hang on the walls (none of them satisfied me - I still feel guilty - sure that those pictures were lame). Then I showered and dressed. I forgot a dress to wear to the temple, so Mom let me borrow one. She happened to bring two. Just had a feeling about it, I guess. I washed and curled my hair, did my own make-up, and put on my jewelry. I have a pair of pearl earrings I bought in London for my wedding day and a simple silver pendant that Jon gave me one Valentine's day.
Rachel and Sarah arrived from Provo that morning. Rachel helped me finish my hair. We left her to primp and curl the family hairs, ready for pictures in just a few hours.
We were supposed to be at the temple an hour early. We were a few minutes late, me gulping my way through several pieces of toast in the car. They all told me I wouldn't get to eat on my wedding day. I hated the thought. So I wolfed toast.
We got to the temple - Jon and his parents were waiting already. Jon told me I looked beautiful - we were all shy smiles. They brought us to the record room, made sure everything was in order, the legal paperwork, the church's paperwork. Writing our parent's names, our birthdays and places, our full names, our important dates - those papers feel like they sum up your whole life. It somehow felt a bit more real then. Two different, separate lives after a few lines of paperwork merge into one line. Sign here. Sign here. Two names and a whole, separate third life exists.
I went to the bride's room and Mom helped me dress in white. They let us have one moment together. Mom put her arms around me. We didn't say much - it felt like everything had been said. I think it had been said my whole life before then. I wanted to say thank you for all of this but I didn't know how to make it count for everything. I should have said it anyway, but I was just quiet.
Jon took longer getting ready but we finally made our way to the celestial room. A tall, white room with deep white and gold couches. Crystals dangling in lights from the ceiling, mirrors stretching the room out to infinite. We whispered our promises to each other, recalling the resolves we'd made sitting in the celestial room of the Seattle temple just a week before. After a few minutes they brought us into an empty sealing room and we talked to the sealer, our officiator, for just a few minutes before going into our own sealing room.
The room was full of family and just a few friends. I felt this then as I felt throughout the whole day - grateful that so many came. I felt humbled that so many cared. Many with new spouses, many with grown children, few with grand children and very few with great-grandchildren. A reflective moment - my heritage and future spelled out in faces. The white light pouring into the room, clean and soft, I sat next to my mother and my fiance quietly listening to the words of advice given to us by the sealer. The ceremony proceeded, we knelt at the altar. Within minutes and a few words, we were married.
Soon I was standing next to my husband, hugging new and old family members, receiving congratulations, welcome, and the misty looks of many of these.
Mom and I went back to the bride's room, fixed a few curls, I donned a simple birdcage veil, and met my husband. Now for the pictures, the people, the busy wedding day.
The sun shined, glared as we stepped outside. My sisters were standing in a row, hair curled, shoes buckled, earrings hung and matching dresses smoothed and crisp.
My relatives crowded around the entrance and for the first time pictures were snapped on all sides. My aunties were so studly with fancy cameras dangling from their necks - they took pictures throughout the whole day.
Pictures didn't take too long. Scott (Jarvie) and Jackie were excellent photographers, very pleasant and professional. We were friends by the day's end. They took pictures of all combinations - sisters only, parents only, grandparents, extended family, just the bride and groom. It didn't take too long, but by the end our eyes were burning from sun glare.
Next was the luncheon - simple fooding at the Hovely's chapel nearby. We started with some brief words from my in-laws. Both my mother and father-in-law shared congratulations and love. Dad shared some sweet and simple advice - all you need is love. Love each other in times of happiness and anger, sadness and celebration. He also said I'm not a tulip. There are some delicate and beautiful blossoms that have no fragrance, no substance up close. False and shallow, like a tulip. Mom shared the poem Grammy had always shared at family weddings. Very tender.
We had some delicious soft tacos and punch - I don't know who wasn't eating during this part of their wedding day. I definitely didn't go hungry on mine. I had heaps of food. It was delightful feeding everyone. I love family foodings - I wish it could happen more often. Catered plates and piles of taco stuffs with gallons of pink punch sloshing around in crystal dispensers. I wish there was more time to talk and relax.
Check out these banqueting babes:
I mean babies.
After a quick clean-up I changed out of my mummy-tight dress (it was like finding my lungs unpinned at last) and we headed back to Provo amidst a car-clogged freeway. We pulled up to my house only about an hour before the reception. This was with none of the food chopped, sliced, arranged, the cake un-assembled, the lemonade unmade and the decorations not fully hung. The parking lot looked lovely - white beclothed tables dotted with tall pitchers of fresh fluttering blossoms and trees decked with paper lanterns and chandelier crystals.
There was one eyesore. My recently-engaged roommate (probably dizzy in the throws of blissful romance) had flown off to California for the weekend with her fiance and left her car parked in the middle of our potential reception cite. She also, naturally, brought her car keys with her. We had to track down her parents (thankfully they're Bountiful residents) for a spare set and, after the tables had been set up, part them like the Red Sea in order to pull the car out and park it somewhere else.
Most of the family wasn't there yet - Carol and hers were there as well as Jon, me, and one sister from my Relief Society. Rinsing off cutting boards and knives in the sink, I peeked out the window just in time to watch a gutsy gust of wind rip through the parking lot. Each tall (top-heavy) vase toppled onto its table, soaking the runners and tablecloths with sopping puddles of green-tinted water. A team had to be set to work mopping up the spills while another refilled the vases, making them more bottom-heavy and wind-sturdy. If anyone noticed damp tables at the reception, this was why.
As relatives and Relief Society sisters crowded the kitchen with help (chopping, slicing, arranging, stirring, wiping, cleaning, carrying, moving) I sat cross-legged on the floor in the music room dumping my cakes out of their pans and schlopping cream cheese frosting between layers. I dusted it with powdered sugar and centered the porcelain bride and groom with a dollop of frosting. It wasn't a terribly ornate cake, but I flavored a plain chocolate cake recipe with citrus and spice. I spent some time the night before squeezing juices and grating whole orange peels in the blender to give my cake a kick. I had just the one bite, but from what I had I'd say it at least tasted fancy if it didn't look it.
Guests began to arrive and Jon and I at least had to stop chopping, slicing, arranging, schlopping, hanging, and carrying and change back into our fancy pants so we could start standing, smiling, hugging, half-hugging, hand-shaking, thanking, introducing, and posing.
People told me this part of my wedding day would be almost impossible to remember. Everything would be such a blur - I wouldn't remember anyone who came or be able to eat any of my reception food or really spend any time having meaningful conversations with anyone.
The opposite was true. While we did find ourselves heading a meet-n-greet line for much of the time, there was also time for me to catch up with old roommates, time to hang out with my siblings, time to chat with teachers and friends, time to talk to my husband, and even time to eat some of our delicious Costco food (mounds of fruits, plates of cheeses, piles of artisan bread, towers of cream puffs, and crystal dipping dishes with olive oil and vinegar). I remember all the familiar faces I saw and even some unfamiliar ones. I also remember wondering "when is so-and-so going to come?" and realizing sadly that they weren't actually going to. People told me I wouldn't care or remember, but I did. I've never skipped out on a friend's reception before - now I'll really make a point to be there for them. Perhaps everyone feels at least somewhat jilted at these things - not everyone you've ever known can make the time and date you pick, after all.
I was happy to see my relatives chatting and eating - relaxing a bit instead of manning the kitchen all evening. I wish I'd have had more time to say thank you - to somehow bring us all back to even when I feel so indebted. I don't often have others take care of the details for me. I felt honored by service. It was perhaps the best gift I received and I wish I could really describe the gratitude I felt. I didn't really worry that day, and that wasn't because I'd taken care of everything myself. Others really picked up my loose ends and made it a beautiful event. I hope everyone enjoyed themselves there.
Our charming photographer was good enough to continually prod us along throughout the evening, helping us remember what one does at one's own wedding reception. We cut the cake.
I threw my bouquet. Jon's friend Tyler's girlfriend's friend caught it. Neat, right?
And we continued to greet until dusky dark started settling in. Soon guests were gone and it was just me, family, Pieper, and our charming photographer. After doffing my dress for the last time, our family said the very best of goodbyes: with tears and quashing group hugs. Jon and I hopped in our nively-decked getaway car and waved our wedding day to its close, pushed down the driveway by palms and fists thumping our windows as we left.
It was a peaceful day and all my family was there. I couldn't have asked for anything better.
The end of last semester has come and gone, but with it I've grown up a little more. This Saturday was my one-month wedding anniversary.
People tell you so many different things about being married and also about getting married. They told me on my wedding day I'd be too starry-eyed to remember anything or think about any of the small details. I felt my eyes were a bit clearer that day than I expected.
We'd stayed up until at least midnight the night before putting the finishing touches on decorations, sweeping out the house, moving the furniture, and hanging pictures on the very, very sparse white walls. I shouldn't, but I still feel guilty for not having enough pictures or quite the right pictures or some of the little details I imagined. Having those tiny things would have likely only satisfied my own vanity and not really been noticed.
The house was clean, the pictures were hung, the lanterns, candles and crystals decked the boughs of the trees and lined the wrought-iron archway curling around behind the house. The cake was baked, the food was bought, the bouquets delivered. My family was fed on Costa Vida - we ate cross-legged on our freshly-swept and completely bare wood floor, sipping plastic cups full of diet soda among piles of napkins and plastic utensils.
Mom and I drove up to Bountiful the night before. We picked Dad up from the airport on the way and we talked. I can't really remember what we talked about - I'm sure advice was given, feelings imparted, stories told. I felt peaceful watching the highway slip beneath the front headlights. I can remember just the lights and feeling wistful.
One of the stories I do remember was Dad's - losing his recommend the morning of his own wedding. We realized Mom had left hers in Seattle. It was tucked in a different bag, anomalously not where it usually was. We made some calls - she didn't miss it.
Janis put up an air mattress for me in the living room. I woke up to the sound of Sesame Street and breakfast clattering in the kitchen. My phone had two text messages on it. Jessie and Megan with good wishes. I should have said thanks or something clever but I suppose I was a little starry at the moment. I was going to be married in only a few hours.
I printed out a few more pictures to hang on the walls (none of them satisfied me - I still feel guilty - sure that those pictures were lame). Then I showered and dressed. I forgot a dress to wear to the temple, so Mom let me borrow one. She happened to bring two. Just had a feeling about it, I guess. I washed and curled my hair, did my own make-up, and put on my jewelry. I have a pair of pearl earrings I bought in London for my wedding day and a simple silver pendant that Jon gave me one Valentine's day.
Rachel and Sarah arrived from Provo that morning. Rachel helped me finish my hair. We left her to primp and curl the family hairs, ready for pictures in just a few hours.
We were supposed to be at the temple an hour early. We were a few minutes late, me gulping my way through several pieces of toast in the car. They all told me I wouldn't get to eat on my wedding day. I hated the thought. So I wolfed toast.
We got to the temple - Jon and his parents were waiting already. Jon told me I looked beautiful - we were all shy smiles. They brought us to the record room, made sure everything was in order, the legal paperwork, the church's paperwork. Writing our parent's names, our birthdays and places, our full names, our important dates - those papers feel like they sum up your whole life. It somehow felt a bit more real then. Two different, separate lives after a few lines of paperwork merge into one line. Sign here. Sign here. Two names and a whole, separate third life exists.
I went to the bride's room and Mom helped me dress in white. They let us have one moment together. Mom put her arms around me. We didn't say much - it felt like everything had been said. I think it had been said my whole life before then. I wanted to say thank you for all of this but I didn't know how to make it count for everything. I should have said it anyway, but I was just quiet.
Jon took longer getting ready but we finally made our way to the celestial room. A tall, white room with deep white and gold couches. Crystals dangling in lights from the ceiling, mirrors stretching the room out to infinite. We whispered our promises to each other, recalling the resolves we'd made sitting in the celestial room of the Seattle temple just a week before. After a few minutes they brought us into an empty sealing room and we talked to the sealer, our officiator, for just a few minutes before going into our own sealing room.
The room was full of family and just a few friends. I felt this then as I felt throughout the whole day - grateful that so many came. I felt humbled that so many cared. Many with new spouses, many with grown children, few with grand children and very few with great-grandchildren. A reflective moment - my heritage and future spelled out in faces. The white light pouring into the room, clean and soft, I sat next to my mother and my fiance quietly listening to the words of advice given to us by the sealer. The ceremony proceeded, we knelt at the altar. Within minutes and a few words, we were married.
Soon I was standing next to my husband, hugging new and old family members, receiving congratulations, welcome, and the misty looks of many of these.
Mom and I went back to the bride's room, fixed a few curls, I donned a simple birdcage veil, and met my husband. Now for the pictures, the people, the busy wedding day.
The sun shined, glared as we stepped outside. My sisters were standing in a row, hair curled, shoes buckled, earrings hung and matching dresses smoothed and crisp.
My relatives crowded around the entrance and for the first time pictures were snapped on all sides. My aunties were so studly with fancy cameras dangling from their necks - they took pictures throughout the whole day.
Pictures didn't take too long. Scott (Jarvie) and Jackie were excellent photographers, very pleasant and professional. We were friends by the day's end. They took pictures of all combinations - sisters only, parents only, grandparents, extended family, just the bride and groom. It didn't take too long, but by the end our eyes were burning from sun glare.
Next was the luncheon - simple fooding at the Hovely's chapel nearby. We started with some brief words from my in-laws. Both my mother and father-in-law shared congratulations and love. Dad shared some sweet and simple advice - all you need is love. Love each other in times of happiness and anger, sadness and celebration. He also said I'm not a tulip. There are some delicate and beautiful blossoms that have no fragrance, no substance up close. False and shallow, like a tulip. Mom shared the poem Grammy had always shared at family weddings. Very tender.
We had some delicious soft tacos and punch - I don't know who wasn't eating during this part of their wedding day. I definitely didn't go hungry on mine. I had heaps of food. It was delightful feeding everyone. I love family foodings - I wish it could happen more often. Catered plates and piles of taco stuffs with gallons of pink punch sloshing around in crystal dispensers. I wish there was more time to talk and relax.
Check out these banqueting babes:
I mean babies.
After a quick clean-up I changed out of my mummy-tight dress (it was like finding my lungs unpinned at last) and we headed back to Provo amidst a car-clogged freeway. We pulled up to my house only about an hour before the reception. This was with none of the food chopped, sliced, arranged, the cake un-assembled, the lemonade unmade and the decorations not fully hung. The parking lot looked lovely - white beclothed tables dotted with tall pitchers of fresh fluttering blossoms and trees decked with paper lanterns and chandelier crystals.
There was one eyesore. My recently-engaged roommate (probably dizzy in the throws of blissful romance) had flown off to California for the weekend with her fiance and left her car parked in the middle of our potential reception cite. She also, naturally, brought her car keys with her. We had to track down her parents (thankfully they're Bountiful residents) for a spare set and, after the tables had been set up, part them like the Red Sea in order to pull the car out and park it somewhere else.
Most of the family wasn't there yet - Carol and hers were there as well as Jon, me, and one sister from my Relief Society. Rinsing off cutting boards and knives in the sink, I peeked out the window just in time to watch a gutsy gust of wind rip through the parking lot. Each tall (top-heavy) vase toppled onto its table, soaking the runners and tablecloths with sopping puddles of green-tinted water. A team had to be set to work mopping up the spills while another refilled the vases, making them more bottom-heavy and wind-sturdy. If anyone noticed damp tables at the reception, this was why.
As relatives and Relief Society sisters crowded the kitchen with help (chopping, slicing, arranging, stirring, wiping, cleaning, carrying, moving) I sat cross-legged on the floor in the music room dumping my cakes out of their pans and schlopping cream cheese frosting between layers. I dusted it with powdered sugar and centered the porcelain bride and groom with a dollop of frosting. It wasn't a terribly ornate cake, but I flavored a plain chocolate cake recipe with citrus and spice. I spent some time the night before squeezing juices and grating whole orange peels in the blender to give my cake a kick. I had just the one bite, but from what I had I'd say it at least tasted fancy if it didn't look it.
Guests began to arrive and Jon and I at least had to stop chopping, slicing, arranging, schlopping, hanging, and carrying and change back into our fancy pants so we could start standing, smiling, hugging, half-hugging, hand-shaking, thanking, introducing, and posing.
People told me this part of my wedding day would be almost impossible to remember. Everything would be such a blur - I wouldn't remember anyone who came or be able to eat any of my reception food or really spend any time having meaningful conversations with anyone.
The opposite was true. While we did find ourselves heading a meet-n-greet line for much of the time, there was also time for me to catch up with old roommates, time to hang out with my siblings, time to chat with teachers and friends, time to talk to my husband, and even time to eat some of our delicious Costco food (mounds of fruits, plates of cheeses, piles of artisan bread, towers of cream puffs, and crystal dipping dishes with olive oil and vinegar). I remember all the familiar faces I saw and even some unfamiliar ones. I also remember wondering "when is so-and-so going to come?" and realizing sadly that they weren't actually going to. People told me I wouldn't care or remember, but I did. I've never skipped out on a friend's reception before - now I'll really make a point to be there for them. Perhaps everyone feels at least somewhat jilted at these things - not everyone you've ever known can make the time and date you pick, after all.
I was happy to see my relatives chatting and eating - relaxing a bit instead of manning the kitchen all evening. I wish I'd have had more time to say thank you - to somehow bring us all back to even when I feel so indebted. I don't often have others take care of the details for me. I felt honored by service. It was perhaps the best gift I received and I wish I could really describe the gratitude I felt. I didn't really worry that day, and that wasn't because I'd taken care of everything myself. Others really picked up my loose ends and made it a beautiful event. I hope everyone enjoyed themselves there.
Our charming photographer was good enough to continually prod us along throughout the evening, helping us remember what one does at one's own wedding reception. We cut the cake.
I threw my bouquet. Jon's friend Tyler's girlfriend's friend caught it. Neat, right?
And we continued to greet until dusky dark started settling in. Soon guests were gone and it was just me, family, Pieper, and our charming photographer. After doffing my dress for the last time, our family said the very best of goodbyes: with tears and quashing group hugs. Jon and I hopped in our nively-decked getaway car and waved our wedding day to its close, pushed down the driveway by palms and fists thumping our windows as we left.
It was a peaceful day and all my family was there. I couldn't have asked for anything better.