Let them eat cake!

I named this post in homage to the quaint little city that I call home. And also, because I have decided to go through my wedding tips without the guidance of my bride, as her blogging is too unpredictable and sporadic. Sigh. It's hard to stalk when the recipient(s) hearts(s) just aren't into it.

But, let's get on with it, shall we?

The wedding cake. I saw that Lauren was debating whether to have one, or have her mom make some pastry specialty appetizingly referred to as "Fat Linda Bars."

I went to a wedding with a sundae bar. To be frank, it was messy and it seemed out of context. Like it should have been at a kids birthday party.

I went to a wedding with sheet cakes from Sam's Club. I checked for misnomers and other tragedies, but there were none. To see what I mean, go to one of my favorite sites ever, cakewrecks.blogspot.com/

Both of my best friends eschewed wedding cakes in favor of cookies. (I don't remember much of one of my best friends' wedding reception, but I do remember that I stuffed my purse with a bakers dozen of six chocolate chip cookies.)

So, as with all wedding decisions, the cake, or dessert, is a personal choice and not one to be made fun of. (Come on, "Fat Linda Bars?" Will there be a small placard on the table stating that's what they are?)

Anyway, my cake was very small. Two tiers. It was chocolate, (although considered "taboo" at weddings by some, it is my favorite and so I went with it), with ganache covered in white fondant. There was one white cymbidium orchid placed on the top. I don't remember eating it, but every one told me later it was super delicious. We saved the top tier for our first wedding anniversary, but I am kind of a food phobe and so we never ate it.

Responding to the response to Lauren's cousins' best friend

Wow.

I leave the confines of my suburban abode for lunch, and suddenly my bride gets all wild on me and starts firing off paragraph after paragraph on her blog...but I digress...

Apparently Lauren was shopping at Patina or someplace that shills these quirky kind of books that poke fun at everything from marriage to housework because there is currently a picture on her facebook page. The picture is of a reluctant bride planner/agenda type thing. I just don't get it as I'm her wedding planner.

Seriously, just today I came up with the idea of a mini donut wagon at the reception, (if any of you know a Tom Thumb wagon francisee--I just made that word up--please let us know), and I also volunteered my services as a master origami paper folder. I would run a little booth and fold out images of all the party goers--for a small fee.

I also suggested a chuppah. "But I'm not jewish!" exclaimed my anti-bride. I patiently explained that a chuppah, while indeed in the jewish tradition, was basically just an arch to get married under and we could farm hers up with grapevine and wildflowers and stuff.

This is just a thankless job.

(Moment of silence)

Lauren chatted me up today and confided that--gasp--she is somewhat at a loss for words. And who is suffering because of this?

Me.

As I outlined for her, this is a companion blog, and it is without its counterpart. I also pointed out that this blog has no followers. So I desperately asked her if she thought the MBFCW blog would ever go insanely viral and blow up the internet, at which point she and I would no doubt be face to face with Matt Lauer, explaining how it all came to be, and she didn't answer me. (sad face here.)

Photography 101

yeah, that's right

Wedding photography is big business. The pictures matter so much, in my opinion. MORE THAN THE MARRIAGE. I kid, I kid. Knowing what I know now though, I would have spent a lot more proportionately on my photographer.

My photographer. Oh sweet Jesus.

He came well recommended. (He did family portraits for a lady I had other business with). His website is very nice and expertly done. He was not cheap. He is the brother of a very famous, legendary singer. Did that sway me? Maybe a tad, but not that much, because I didn't even ask him about her. I kind of thought it would be a cool story for the future.

He showed up in sweats, a cut-off sweatshirt, and a weird knitted hat, high, (pretty sure), and obsessed with my attractive blond cousins. He spent a lot of time massaging their shoulders and snapping pics of them. He remarked on the stark differences in our appearances; a thinly veiled question as to, "how did this happen? Are you sure you're related?" (Adoption was maybe a foreign concept to him? These were, after all, the pre-Brangelina days.) As he stroked my cousin's shoulder, he said, "so blond, so tall, and then, you two, (blithely referring to me and my sister), such dark hair..." I'm sorry, what?

Did I mention that he made my husband and I fake our cake cutting picture, because he didn't want to wait for us to eat dinner, as he had a "softball game across the island" to attend?

I had a contract, and I specifically asked him if I was being charged for his time, or the amount of pictures. He said both. Obviously, I wasn't paying him for his time, as he had obligated himself to some community ed. sporting event the same evening as my ceremony.

So, Lauren, know what you are getting. Be very specific. Have a list of the shots you want taken. And if you are getting married at sunset, make sure your photographer isn't Fiona from Shrek and can stick around after dark.

And you know, I do have really great, visually stunning pictures of my cousins, specifically my (then) 5 year old cousin. Which is kind of creepy, now that I think about it.

Engaging engagement photos

(Lauren never bothered to blog about having her engagement photos taken. I don't know; maybe I didn't give her enough time. But isn't a blog about being timely? Like you don't write about events in your life two weeks later. Right? Right?)

Okay, me first.

I never had engagement photos taken.

The closest I came was at a BBQ held for me and my betrothed one night before the wedding. I was super tired and crabby and my sister said we should go to the grocery store and pick up some chicken for dinner for me to eat. We had been fishing that day and caught a lot of fish, and that's what was on the agenda for dinner, but I'm not a big fish eater. It took me five minutes to choose my chicken and check out. Then my sister stopped by the magazine rack and asked me if I thought George Clooney was handsome. So weird. I just wanted to get home, but she decided we should go down by a smelly lighthouse and look around. We saw baby sharks and she took A LOT of time taking pictures of them. We arrived home to a surprise party, and there, on the deck, a picture was snapped of my me and my fiance. I look mean and bloated.

Check back in a couple of hours and I will give you my two cents on photographers. In the meantime, the result of my engagement photos, and subsequent marriage, demands breakfast. Probably the other half of the loaf of french bread.

Workin' the system, Part II

Yeah, I'm back. I have more to say. It's been a long morning and the kid has just settled down after eating half a loaf of french bread (a story for another time) and a bath. So while she pounds the dog with the etch-a-sketch, I will leave you with yet another timeless anecdote.

When I bought my wedding dress, I had to get my measurements taken before it was ordered. For those of you who have purchased such a dress, you know that the sizes run extremely small. Lauren, this is my warning to you. I was a 6-8 back then, but measured like a 16. I was out in the reception area of the bridal salon, going over some last minute details with the tailor about my fittings. There were several brides in the area, milling about, clutching three ring binders full of magazine ads and whatever else is carried in those things. All of a sudden, my consultant came running out, and yelled, "(Lauren's cousins' best friend! Lauren's cousins' best friend!) Are you sure? Before I fax this order, well, it doesn't make any sense...you're a size 16! Are you certain. Let's measure you again. Yes, let me measure you really quick." Then, she pulled out her measuring tape and proceeded to measure me in front of all the other size 2 brides. Satisfied, she said, "YES! I guess you are a size 16! Yes, you are a size 16!"

Workin' the system

Ahhh, the wedding dress.

Lauren's recent post has detailed her non-traditional bride status and her desire to find a lovely, but economical, gown that will allow her to arrive at the farm in sartorial splendor.

She has outlined her options, and all of them, while valid, exclude one important observation.

No woman, EVER, really chooses to wear a floor length WHITE gown.

So when trying on gowns, most of them will look kind of kitschy and over the top. I remember feeling really awkward, and the bridal "consultant" seemed disappointed in my lack of excitement. I think you're supposed to cry when you find the "right" gown. I just said yes to the dress--that fit.

Anyway, I went to two places. Marshall Fields in downtown Minneapolis (now Macy's) and the Wedding Shoppe in St. Paul. And can I just say, the Wedding Shoppe was a total nightmare and certainly did not impart the sophisticated decorum one would expect to find in a shop that is spelled, "shoppe."

I chose a plain, no lace, no beads, no sequins, no sash Vera Wang number that still looks good in pictures today.

OH, LAUREN! Add to your NTB's alternative to buying ridiculously overpriced wedding dress list: Borrow your cousins' best friend's wedding dress!

The B word

um, no, but thanks

When I got engaged, I told my future husband one thing.

I said, "Don't ever buy me jewelry that has a cross, a heart, or a bird on it." (See the first post of this blog for my feelings on birds.) This is a true story.

Hey, since we're discussing birds, earlier this month, my daughters and I were out shopping for school supplies. We had been to the mall, and were on our way to Office Max. The girls were hungry. I really wanted to keep things moving along and so I let them know that whatever we got, it would have to be eaten in the car. They chose Taco Bell. Girl #2 managed to spill taco meat all over her lap. As she jumped out of the car, it all fell to the ground. It was gross.

When we came back out of Office Max, there were big, fat, wretched crows EVERYWHERE. Completely stuffing their beaks with taco meat. I never knew birds were carnivores! I thought they ate bird seed and stuff.

First Date (Lauren's cousins' best friend's version)

I just re-read Jesse's post on his and Lauren's first date. I think I might have known they met on Match.com...maybe I thought it was eharmony. But here's where things get all strange and serendipitous, and where I can turn this whole deal into a thing about me.

I met MY HUSBAND on line also.

Well, kind of. I don't like to brag, but we are both fans of a certain band. We both visited their website often. There was a message board, and I mesmerized him with my posts.

We decided to meet at a club where another favorite band was playing. I took my best friend. She was a Cooper back then. Was it love at first sight? More like question at first sight. "Um, what are those leather patches on the elbows of his sweater?", followed by, "what year is this?"

I was a little dumbfounded that he was wearing glasses. Not that there is anything wrong with glasses. But he never said he wore them, and in the one picture he sent me via email, he was not wearing them. Did I mention he wears glasses? Like, all the time? Like, every moment of the day? He cannot navigate two steps without them.

Regardless, I kind of dug him, and when we all went out for a bite to eat afterward, I put my hand on his leg. I think I scared him, as he dropped the potato skin he was eating.

Why?

Well, that's a great question. But first things first.

Number one, the title of this blog is fairly self-explanatory. Everyone in life knows my best friends are Carin and Annie. They are Lauren's cousins. Now, Carin ran off and got married and so I couldn't force any of my wedding ideas on her. Annie, on the other hand, let me have my way with her, but I guess it wasn't enough. I like to over-indulge.

Second, this blog is strictly a companion piece to "My Big Phat Farm Wedding: Jesse and Lauren getting married?" It wouldn't make much sense if you didn't read them as two parts of a whole.

Third, am I edging in on Lauren's big day? Am I trying to make this about me, as blogs didn't exist back when I got married, and I totally have a need to spread my decades old wedding details around cyberspace? Damn straight!

And for anyone wondering, the subtitle of this blog is printed in green, my fave color. Also, I hate birds, but they seemed kind of wedding-like and the template choices weren't all that great.

Lastly, the reason for this blog. Well, it's Lauren. GAWD. How could I read her Phat Farm Wedding blog everyday and not respond? For those of you not in the know, GIRL insta-chats with me constantly and I have to converse with her about the wedding. I just really feel like sharing these chit-chats with everyone. Plus, I am home all day with a two-year-old who is on the crazy train. What else do I have to do?

PS--I think this blog will self-destruct the exact moment Lauren says, "I do."