Ariel's Wedding, Part VI, Fred Gets Involved!

I can hardly believe the title of this chapter, myself. Mister 'I-ain't-payin-no-thousand-dollars-for-a-weddin', Mister 'Why-don't-you-marry-a-rich-doctor', Mister 'You-don't-need-to-get-married-this-year' was actually beginning to involve himself in the wedding details.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that we watched Father of the Bride on tv one morning. Steve Martin's character, George Banks, is so very...Fred. In the beginning, that is. He rebels against his daughter's engagement. He rebels against the very notion of a wedding planner and then rebels against the planner they hire. He envisions the wedding as a crepe paper and balloons backyard cookout. He fights the cost of the wedding every step of the way, until the night he finds his daughter, Annie, asleep with a Bride's magazine open to the 'budget wedding' pages. That's when he has a change of heart and vows to give her the wedding of her dreams. I had hoped that that scene, combined with the 'memories of his Annie through the years' scene, would have a positive effect on Fred, and apparently it did. Oh, and the scene where George gets the final price: $250 a head x 571 guests = $142,750. That made Ariel's wedding budget look like chicken feed.

Of course, I told Fred, I am not so naive as to imagine for one minute that we could have such a wedding as the one in which George Banks gave his daughter's hand to Brian McKenzie. We were ALREADY on the 'budget wedding' pages; I just wanted to make sure it stayed there, and didn't get confused with the 'bottom of the barrel wedding' pages.

The first thing Fred insisted upon was reserving that heart-shaped arch from Hobby Lobby. "You better call them," he told me several times. "We've got plenty of time," I assured him. I have a deep seated aversion to talking on the phone and will put things off until the last minute to avoid a phone conversation. He finally called Hobby Lobby himself and discovered that it wasn't doable over the phone; a short rental contract would need to be signed in person and a deposit paid. We went to Clarksville the following Monday and took care of that. $50 rental, plus the $50 deposit. He didn't even blink an eye.

Walmart was our next stop, where we bought the 120 foot white runner. $22. Didn't phase him at all.

I'm sure he saw my open internet pages for the folding fans, disposable cameras, personalized M&Ms, and clear plastic plates, along with their bulk prices. Never mentioned them.

It's a little disconcerting, bordering on creepy, as in "who are you and what have you done with my husband?" but...I LIKE IT!


Fred's enthusiasm for the wedding grew. Not to the point, mind you, that he was willing to hire a wedding coordinator and take a second job to finance the event, but it grew nevertheless. He and I went to see a movie which featured an outdoor wedding and he fell in love with...something they did in the movie. I cannot reveal what it is, because he wants to do this as a surprise for his daughter's wedding, and she's taken to reading this blog... All I can tell you is, we've already been looking at supplies, INCLUDING FABRICS, and tossing around ideas, and even though it's gonna cost a few bucks, he's excited about doing it.

Fred. Fabrics. There's something just not right about that.

We took a critical walk around the yard, deciding what needed to be spruced up before the big day. The deck would need to be restained, of course, and the rails and lattice painted. The gas grill and Spooky's little plastic towel-lined cathouse would have to be moved for a few days, as would the garbage cans and hose pipe. The chairs for the patio table could come out into the back yard; I know Mama and Eric's grandmother will need to sit during the ceremony. We could bring plenty of those folding chairs out of the basement, too, and scatter them. I looked at the chair cushions and saw that the once bright grape clusters were now gray, as were the once green leaves; new chair cushions should be cheap at Walmart or KMart. And, if I can sneak it past Ariel, I might even wrap the backs of those patio chairs with a swath of tulle...

We would need fresh mulch and two new shrubs, replacing those that we had lost during the drought. That shepherd's hook was still leaning crazily to one side; what was wrong with that thing? I eyed it fiercely and told it if it couldn't stay upright, it was gonna go. My birdbaths out front were full of reddish mildew, a common problem; Fred would haul them out into the driveway, where I'd scrub them down with bleach. No doubt it would have to be repeated a few days before the wedding. The porch and sidewalk were dull, their aggregate finish no longer glimmering in the sunlight. We'd have to pick a day soon, before the summer humidity set in, and put a coat of sealant on them. The brick retaining walls needed to be pressure washed; no problem. That pile of big rocks would have to be carted out to the ravine at the far back of the yard, and we really HAD to do something about those three huge chunks of wood that had been sitting there for three years now. And I'd plant flowers: daisies, verbena, marigolds, vincas, impatiens. My impatiens on the front porch are always spectacular, but I'd need some in the back that could handle full sun... I'd scout out Walmart for other candidates, something that would attract butterflies. I pictured Monarchs flitting from flower to flower during the ceremony. We usually have our last cold spell around Mother's Day, so I'd set my sights on that or the following weekend for planting. A Tennessee approximation of an English garden would be lovely, but that kind of upkeep is not for me, nosirreeBob. No, I'd plant in pots, lots of pots, and that would give us the flexibility to move the masses of color wherever we desired, right up until the last minute. The only problem was pots...hmmm...where was I going to come up with thirty or so large containers? I scoured the basement and was surprised to find that I had seventeen plastic plant containers, in various sizes. Sure, they were all those cheap throwaway pots from a nursery, but with a few coats of outdoor white spray paint, they should do nicely. I was sure I could pick up more at yard sales, and a friend at work promised me a few, too.

We went to Home Depot and got a gallon of the same gray solid stain that we had put on the deck a couple of years ago, a gallon of good quality white semi-gloss for the rails, and several cans of white spray paint for the lattice. Fred had me help him rummage through the little storage room in the basement for the roller tray and paint roller, but we came up empty handed. I did, however, find my old Mikasa dishes, and Ariel's old Cabbage Patch doll lamp. And the shriveled skeletal remains of more grass spiders than I'd like to think about. Ugh.

We also needed to set one of those bug bombs off in the basement.

I awoke the following Saturday afternoon to find that Fred had already put two coats of paint on the deck rails. Even the rails on the driveway side, where he had to use a ladder. Now, he KNOWS that any job which calls for the ladder should be done only when I'm awake to help; Fred is really just the most careless person in all creation and is always falling off the ladder. But, he was anxious to get the painting done and forged on without me. And fell off the ladder. Scraped his arm badly on the brick wall on his way down. He proudly showed me how he had bandaged it all by himself...with a wad of Viva paper towels and masking tape.

What, were we all out of duct tape?

That's gonna need a real bandage, I said, after taking a peek. Naw, Fred manfully said, it's fine. It's like a burn, I told him. It's FINE, he said again.

He called me at work later that night and said it had begun bleeding again, and could I please stop at Kroger on my way home and get some of that liquid bandage stuff?

I wish I were the I-told-you-so type of woman.

The only liquid bandage stuff at Kroger specified 'for small cuts or minor abrasions.' This wound was neither small nor minor, so I got gauze pads and some of that super stretchy sticks-to-itself-bandage wrap. Then I doubled back and got the liquid stuff, too. I'd rather just pay the $6 for it now, than have to listen to Fred complain that I didn't get the right stuff, and have to go back the next day. Sure enough, he totally ignored the small and minor stipulations and applied the liquid bandage to the massive raw wound. After a few days, though, he asked nonchalantly where those big gauze pads and that stretchy stuff were, and would I help him wrap it around his arm?

Told you so.

But that didn't deter him from finishing the painting. April showers hit us every other day for a couple of weeks, but he finished the job off and on between them. He did it mostly while I was asleep. All I did was paint the deck board closest to the house (I have a steady hand,) and help to hold the lattice in place while he rehung it.

The deck looks great. I'll tell you the truth now: when we rebuilt the deck a few years ago, I designed the gently arched cut of the lattice specifically for this wedding. No, we didn't have a date yet. No, Ariel wasn't wearing an engagement ring yet. No, Eric wasn't even in the picture yet. Those were merely missing pieces to the puzzle that was Ariel's inevitable wedding.

A mother does these little things for her daughter.

Fred discovered, quite accidentally, that we had hired a photographer and Wendy and I were splitting the fee equally. He mentioned that he knew, but he didn't raise his voice, and come to think of it, he didn't even complain.

And he hasn't even mentioned the budget in a couple of weeks.

I don't know what's goin' on, but I'm gonna see if I can't get me a trip to Patti's 1880's Settlement while he's in this mood.



Next: The Great Pleasant View Yard Sale