Mother of the Bride

Wedding Photos Finally In

2009-10-05T20:19:00.001-07:00

Ariel's wedding photos, from Once Like a Spark, are finally in. Click here to view the slideshow.

Ariel's Wedding, Part XVII, Sum Up

2009-08-05T14:43:00.000-07:00

(Some photos in this post courtesy of TJ Mahlon and various wedding guests.)
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Great. Beautiful. Lovely. Unique. Fun. Perfect.

These are all words we heard in the days following the wedding. And it was all true.

Yes, it was a low budget wedding, but it was still fabulous. How'd we save money? In every way we could. Wedding venues are ridiculously expensive on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, so Ariel and Eric chose to have their wedding on a Thursday. We had the ceremony at home. Ariel also shopped around for a venue which would allow us to bring in our own caterer and alcohol; this was a HUGE savings. We rented table linens, but went with very nice quality disposable plates, cups, and cutlery, and customized them with a rubber stamp. For flowers, I cultivated my own for the ceremony, shopping for tender young plants at Walmart and utilizing available nursery pots, spray painted in harmonious colors; we lucked up on the flowers for the reception when Ariel met a lady at the Murfreesboro Farmer's Market who sold beautiful flowers for a song. A friend acted as DJ, and music was supplied by Ariel's IPOD. Ariel found a photographer who was willing to do two hours for $500, so we hired her for the 'getting ready, formal, and ceremony' photos only; for the reception photos, we relied on disposable cameras set about on tables and the talents of family and friends. Cinderella and Prince Charming loaned us items left over from their own wedding last December. And, with a little help from family and friends, we did so much ourselves: the setup, the cleanup, picking up the cake, the video-taping, the favors, the invitations, and various other things. We shopped and shopped and shopped and bought very few, if any, items at full price.

Regrets? Ah, just a few. I wish I'd hired a crew to serve and clean. I wish I'd lost forty pounds, instead of gaining twenty. I wish my mama had been well enough to come. I wish more people understood the importance of RSVP. I would have liked to have seen more people from my family and Fred's; it was actually embarrassing that Eric's relatives, who had travelled from Pennsylvania, Florida, and Connecticut, far outnumbered our relatives, most of whom live in the Nashville area.

How many people did we actually have? I have no idea. I was prepared for 71, but we did have a few plates and favors left over. We probably had about 60.

I've also no idea how many we had for brunch the following day, but I can tell you that it was also very nice. No tables collapsed, and I had way too much food again. I always go overboard in the food department. Eric's family is so much fun; I wish they'd been able to stay a few more days. After the other guests had left, Fred surprised Ariel with the new song he'd written. I'm not sure what he named it, but it's a sweet sentimental song about how much he's changed since she came into his life. Ariel and I both cried.

Some stats:
The ceremony was held in our back yard, in Pleasant View.
I made hot yeast rolls, whipped butter, and strawberry butter for nibbling before the ceremony.
Ariel had only one attendant, her best friend and Matron of Honor, Belle.
Eric also had one attendant, his Best Man.
The reception was held at The Cumberland Room, in nearby Clarksville.
Out of town guests stayed at a hotel in Clarksville, and Ariel and Eric provided a cab for the evening.
Appetizers at the reception were a cheese tray with crackers, fruit tray, and shrimp rings.
The meal was catered by Calypso Cafe, with a little help from Walmart's deli and yours truly. We had rotisserie chicken with three delicious sauces: jerk, curry, and barbeque, tossed tropical salad, cole slaw, black beans with sour cream and onions, sweet potatoes with coconut, Martinique Callilou (collard greens with tomatoes,) St. Lucian's rice, coconut cornbread muffins, and more of my hot yeast rolls with whipped butter and strawberry butter.
Publix made the cake. The bottom tier was white with raspberry filling, the middle tier was chocolate, and the top tier, which is frozen solid down in my basement, is marble.
A huge assortment of teas, coffee, soft drinks, and alcohol were available.

Music was provided by Prince Charming's friend, The Pianist, for the ceremony, and Fred, Eric, and Ariel collaborated on the IPOD music for the reception.

Once Like a Spark did the photography at the ceremony. Prince Charming videotaped the ceremony and portions of the reception.

Fred and I made a video slideshow for entertainment before the ceremony. It was quite nice, if I do say so myself.

The bridal gown and all the accroutements were purchased at David's Bridal.

And now, I must add this up and see how we did on the budget. Now, I KNOW we went way over Fred's $1500 budget, but how could we not? And Fred, bless him, stopped complaining about the budget months ago. For MY budget, I had hoped to stay in the $3500 range, and I THINK we stayed close to that. Maybe. Let's add it all up:

The bride's attire: $1,032
The groom's attire: $80
Invitations: $50
Engagement photos: $50
Ceremony site: $0!!!!!
Reception site: $492
Officiant: $125
Photography: $500
Music: $250
Video: $0!!!!!
Video slide show, plus copies for family members: $2
The cake: $318
Catering: $743
Other food (including foods for brunch for wedding party and out-of-town guests the following morning: $229
Drinks: $35
Alcohol: $400
Bartender: $100
Linens: $224
Disposable plates, napkins, cups, cutlery, etc: $107
Cake topper: $20
Favors (fans, personalized M&Ms, bird seed packets): $62
Arch rental: $50
Cab: $275
Flowers (I ended up spending more than I had intended on the ones I grew at home: due to the dadgum deer, I had to replace several): $110
Ribbons, candles, aisle runner, disposable cameras, and miscellaneous decor: $214
Vases, champagne flutes, and miscellaneous borrowed from Cinderella: $0
Gift bowl and pens for signing: $50
Gift card box: $0 (I threw it together with leftover ribbon and a fancy box from Charming's and Cinderella's wedding; it was quite pretty and functional.)
Newspaper announcement and copies of newspapers for family members: $14
Hired help (Miss Jane) for two days: $250
Tips: $410
My dress: $96

Total: $6288

Gulp.

Okay, let me adjust that somewhat, because Fred and I did have some help.

Wendy, Eric's mom, paid for all the alcohol and half the photography fee. Subtract $650.
Ariel and Eric paid for several items themselves: the cake topper and candles, the invitations and engagement photos, the bartender, the cab, the gift bowl, the officiant, and Eric's tux. Subtract $770.

New total: $4868

And if we take off the cost of my dress, (because I'm sure I'll wear it again,) that's only $4772.

Welllll, that's not tooooo far off the mark, is it?

Besides, it was my only daughter's wedding, and it's the one and only time I'll ever get to do anything like that, and that did include the brunch the next day.

And we had leftovers for a good two days afterwards. And I had enough honeybaked ham left over from the brunch to take sandwiches for myself and Mamacilla two nights in a row, and there's still some of it in the freezer.

And we provided eight deer with yummy impatiens treats for three months.

And it's WELL below the national average wedding cost of $23,657 (according to Smartmoney.com.)

No, you know what? I'm not going to apologize or try to justify that amount. I don't regret a penny of it. It's all done and paid for. It was a lovely wedding, absolutely lovely, and everybody had a great time. Our memories will last a lifetime, and the image of my daughter, smiling, blissfully happy, the sunlight reflecting off her white gown, will forever be etched in my mind.

Perfect.

Ariel's Wedding, Part XVI, The Reception

2009-08-03T18:38:00.000-07:00

(Some photos in this post courtesy of M. Price, D. Price, TJ Mahlon, and various wedding guests.)

If I EVER, EVER think about doing something of this magnitude by myself again, I wish y'all would pop me upside my head and tell me what a fool I am.

Really, though, it was a total success. The wedding was perfect. The whole thing came in...roughly on budget. My budget, that is; you'll remember that we overshot Fred's budget on the dress alone. The Cumberland Room was fabulous. When we arrived, there were already quite a few guests, and I had time for only the briefest glimpse before I disappeared into the kitchen and began baking the rolls I'd left rising all day. The Beast had, among other things, preheated the oven for me, and I slid the first two pans in, then began microwave reheating the few rolls I'd had left over from the house. In my stressful haste, I marvelled that this fantastic kitchen had but one oven; what an idiot! As we were cleaning later, I saw the other two wall ovens, RIGHT BESIDE THE OVEN I WAS USING. If they'da been a snake...

We had one snafu. As I took a basket of rolls from the microwave, one of Ariel's fellow teachers from school came into the kitchen for paper towels. One of the tables had collapsed, she informed me; one side of the tablecloth was soaked; did we have an extra? No, we didn't. She evidently recognized the panicked look on my face as one of a totally stressed out, exhausted POSTAL WORKER about to lose it, and she quickly reassured me that she would remove the chairs from that side of the table and everything would be fine.

NOBODY wants to upset a postal worker.

However, I realized that if THAT table had collapsed, others had the potential for a repeat performance. As soon as I had the opportunity, I went around to each table, checking the legs, or asking the guests who were seated to do so. NONE of the legs had the locking mechanism engaged. Two people WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS had simply been unaware that a locking mechanism existed in the table legs. Together, we got them all locked and had no more disasters.

Now I had a chance to look around. Everything really was just absolutely gorgeous. Ariel's vision was complete. The chandeliers and wall sconces glowed softly, and the tables were lit with flickering white candles. The place settings looked great, despite being disposable. Tiny lights sparkled faintly underneath white tablecloths on the buffet and cake tables. The bartender, who, just as Ariel had said, resembled Santa Claus, had his setup in the corner, and I was relieved to see that we obviously were quite well stocked on all sorts of beverages. The gift table looked terrific, and guests were munching on the cheeses, fruits, and shrimp. The cake was getting quite a bit of attention; I checked the legs on that table twice. A Three Stooges style cake cutting, with the cake sliding off the table and slathering purple buttercream onto the bride's dress, was not something I had planned for this perfect evening.

Once I had removed all the lids from the chafing dishes, I went back into the kitchen, where I bustled about, checking trays of hot foods, making sure all the cold foods had been taken from the fridge, and removing freshly browned rolls from the oven. Just after I slid the next pans in, Fred appeared in the doorway. "Ethel!" he cried. "What are you DOIN'? Come on, you gotta get your champagne; they'll be here in a couple o' minutes! COME ON!"

What was I doing? WHAT WAS I DOING? Why, couldn't he see that I was just sitting there under a sunlamp, relaxing with a good book and enjoying a foot massage?

Okay, he was undoubtedly under a bit of stress, too.

I glanced at the time. Seven minutes til the rolls would come out. In the ballroom, Santa Bartender handed me a flute of champagne just before The Beast, now functioning as DJ, introduced the newlyweds. Everyone clapped enthusiastically, and Bubba hollered his classic, "Atta boy, Eric!" As the best man stepped up to the microphone for his speech, I slipped back into the kitchen, took the rolls out, and slid the last two trays in. Best Man spoke of his and Eric's first apartment as college roomies; about a break-in where the thief took nothing, because they had nothing worth taking. His speech was funny and touching; he noted that Eric had, from the beginning of their friendship, adamantly expressed a desire to never grow up, but had confided later that "this thing with Ariel was getting serious." "Ariel," Best Man said, raising his glass, "you're the reason Eric grew up."

Belle came forward and gave her speech, as Matron of Honor, which was also very touching. I regret that I did not hear it all, as I simply had to check the rolls, and remove the ones that were cooling in the pans into the big basket I'd brought from home. When I emerged again, Belle was just finishing up, "...and may I remind you, Ariel, that, biochemically, love is like eating large amounts of chocolate," and the line for the buffet started. The food seemed to be a big hit, even though we had WAY too much. Oh well, better to have too much than not enough.

Now, I must tell you here about my Fred and the food. For weeks, Fred had been saying that "there wadn' gone be no good food at the reception." I'd heard him on the phone repeating that phrase numerous times, the last time being just the day before, as he had told Granny about the planned buffet items. "You want me to bring you some beans and meatloaf and cornbread?" she had asked, and, to my horror, he had promptly said "yes." "Fred," I began, shaking my head. "What?" he said innocently. "Fred," I began again, hardly believing that I was having to explain this, "you cannot sit there, at your daughter's wedding, and eat beans and meatloaf from Tupperware containers." We went a few rounds and finally reached a compromise: he would take his plate into the kitchen and fill it from the containers. However, when Granny brought the Walmart plastic bag with the containers to the house, (yes, she actually did,) she merely set it on the gift table, and neither Fred nor I noticed it. So the beans and cornbread never made it to the reception. I went around to various tables during dinner, chatting with guests, and when I paused at the table where Fred sat, I asked sweetly, "Did you find something to eat?" "Yeah," he said morosely, "some cole slaw and a roll." I took a good long look at his plate and said, "Looks like you've got a few chicken bones there..." "Yeah," he regrettably confirmed, "I had a piece of chicken." "...and what's that? Sweet potatoes?" "Yeah, a little sweet potatoes," he said. "...and is that collard greens?"

Someone told me later that he went back for seconds and they thought maybe even for thirds.

Fred.

The dancing began. Ariel and Eric danced to Lucky, by Jason Mraz. Then Fred got up; Fred, who had only hours earlier, in this very room, been taught an approximation of a waltz by his daughter. I must say, my Fred looked quite handsome in his white dress shirt and black tie, with his arm around Ariel's waist, dancing to Daughters, by John Mayer. Eric and his mother are DANCERS, and they swang lightly to Bob Marley's Three Little Birds. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. The game room was filled with people playing pool and air hockey. The dance floor was full, and people were still milling about the buffet and gift tables, peering at all those photos I'd so carefully picked out and framed. Groups of ladies went into the bathroom, and came out laughing about the bride and groom toilet paper. The party was in full swing and we seemed to have pulled the whole thing off very successfully.

At this point, I regret that I missed most of the rest of the reception, as I went into the kitchen and began organizing things for clean-up. Once begun, there was no stopping, as there was much to be done. Every once in a while, I would peek back out, or someone would come in to tell me that I was missing this or that. I came out with my camera just in time for the cake-cutting, which was done to Weird Al Yankovic's Eat It. Eric fed Ariel a super-sized bite, which crumbled and dropped down her dress. Despite the low lighting in the room, I could see her blush as he stuck a finger in the sweetheart neckline and peeked into the depths of her gown to find the missing piece.

More dancing followed, the Chicken Dance, the Hokey Pokey, Edwin McCain's I'll Be, and some fun song called Hey Ya. Someone came in to tell me the garter and bouquet tosses were beginning, and I came out and gratefully sank into a chair between Pearl and Betty Jo.

Eric was hilarious. He limbered up; he blew on his knuckles. Then he dove in under Ariel's skirt and surreptitiously pulled out items he'd had stashed in his jacket. He managed an exaggerated puzzled expression as he came out with...a bright yellow police caution tape! Howls of laughter were his applause. There followed a padlock, a mousetrap, and a picture of a kitchen sink, before he finally emerged triumphant with the lacy garter. He turned his back on the small crowd of single men, his eighteen year-old brother among them, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, and gave the garter a too-strong fling. It flew over the men and landed in a glass on the table directly in front of me. Pearl grabbed it and tossed it back, and this time, Best Man reached for and caught it.

Now for the bouquet toss. All the Single Ladies began playing and several ladies came forward, my quite tipsy niece, Drop Dead Gorgeous front and center. She had previously told Ariel she fully intended on catching that bouquet, and she pushed and shoved her way to it when it fell on the floor.

All's fair in love and bouquet tosses.

I began clearing the buffet table, and Granny came over to help. After a short while, Miss Jane joined us and began the seemingly unending dishwashing and drying task. Cousin Pearl joined us some time later and set about putting all the chafing dishes back into their boxes. "Just be careful to match everything up with the pictures on the boxes," I told her, showing her how each dish's design was slightly different. She tried to be helpful, but, honestly, she put everything back wrong, and I spent the better part of an hour trying to locate missing parts of the ensembles. "It sho' is takin' a long time to clean up, ain't it?" she asked some time later. Nobody said anything for a long moment, then Granny spoke up. "Well, it wadn' takin' this long til you started helpin', Pearl," she said.

We all went out just once more, after Pearl disappeared for a while and came running back, yelling to Granny that Big Jethro was DANCING! "Nawwww, he ain't," Granny said, disbelievingly. "He is, too, I swear he is!" Pearl insisted, and then Fred came rushing up, confirming the news. Sure enough, Drop Dead had, for some inexplicable reason, pulled Granny's extremely introverted 30-year-old son up on the dance floor, and they were swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music. "I'm gone CRY!" Granny said, happily dabbing at her eyes.

So much to do; so many items to pack away and load back into the cars. So much sweeping and mopping and washing and folding and lifting and carrying...

If I EVER, EVER do anything like this again, I will hire a crew to serve and clean up. I don't care if it costs a thousand dollars, I will not miss out on the fun and exhaust myself like this again.

Cinderella had been ill with an upset stomach for well over a week and left early. (No, she's not pregnant; I asked. Twice.) But Charming, despite having to be up very early for band camp the next day, stayed until after midnight, helping with the clean up and heavy work. We had to be completely done and out of the building by one o'clock, in order to get our $500 deposit back, and we made it...with five minutes to spare.

Ariel and Eric, and Belle and The Beast left for their hotel. Fred, Miss Jane, and I eased our aching bodies into our car seats and made it home by two o'clock. We all immediately went to bed, but Fred and I were too exhilarated to sleep and stayed awake well into the night, going over the events of the day. Fred finally drifted off, but sleep was not in the cards for me. My mind whirled; I was too tired; I was too happy. The wedding we had planned for so many months was over and had been very nearly perfect. I hoped Ariel's and Eric's memories of the day would be as beautiful as my own.

Next: Sum Up

Ariel's Wedding, Part XV, On With the Wedding!

2009-07-31T04:24:00.000-07:00

(Some photos in this post courtesy of M. Price, D. Price, and T.J. Mahlon)

T minus five minutes and counting...

Ariel had requested that both Fred and I walk her down the aisle. A very sweet and thoughtful gesture. However, I had a problem with the logistics of it all. We would emerge from the French doors in the dining room, step onto the deck, and walk down the stairs. But those stairs weren't wide enough for all three of us. And who would close the door behind her train? And I don't go DOWN well at all. UP steps, UP slopes, I'm fine, if a bit winded sometimes. But DOWN is a different matter entirely, since I had knee surgery two years ago. DOWN is very painful and awkward. And now, not only did I have to contend with that knee, but also my swollen feet and ankles and my swollen and bruised broken toe. Not to mention that being on my feet for three days solid had flared up my sacroiliitis, and my hip was sending distress signals to the nerve center of my brain.

"Here's what we'll do," I'd told Ariel. "I'll go out the front door, around the side of the house, and wait for you and Daddy to come out. While you start down the stairs, Daddy can shut the door behind you, and we'll all meet on the aisle runner."

Believe it or not, I anguished over that simple plan for almost a week.

Obsessive? Who, me?

Where in the world was my Prozac?

I gave my daughter one last hug and kiss and beat a hasty retreat as tears flooded my eyes. Out the front door, through the little tunnel formed by the low overhanging branches of the tall Bradford Pears on the side of the house. It was cool and quiet and utterly peaceful in that tunnel. I vowed that I would find time in the next couple of days to come back to this spot and just breathe in the cool refreshing air. When I emerged on the other side, Belle was just stepping out of the door. I gave her a nod, and she came down the steps and began her walk down the aisle. A look of momentary panic struck her face as she began sliding in her new tall heels, but she quickly recovered and walked gracefully down the aisle, her long purple skirt shimmering in the sunlight. The Pianist began playing Hallelujah, the song Ariel had chosen in lieu of the Wedding March, and then Ariel stepped out. Holding her skirt up slightly with one hand, she descended the steps. Oh! My heart swelled with pride at her grace and beauty. My daughter was everything I had ever hoped she'd be, and I wanted to savor this moment, to freeze time and marvel at the spectacular vision that was coming toward me. Tears welled up again, and then Fred was beside us. He took her arm into the crook of his own and we began our stroll toward the smiling throng of family and friends under the old sycamores.

Now, I'd like to tell y'all here that my memory of our walk down the aisle is obscured by a haze of tears and a jumble of images of my baby through the years; that I floated on air, that the ground beneath my feet was a soft cloud, that we three moved in exquisite harmony and ecstasy of the moment. But, sadly, I cannot tell you that. No, with the very first step, my knee and hip protested going down the slight slope of the yard. My toe throbbed and the big red nodule on the side of my right foot pressed against the unfamiliar prison that was my good black dress shoe. My knee threatened to buckle, and the next hundred or so steps were agony. I limped, I waddled. I looked down at the ground in order to focus on each step. Pain consumed my mind. But we made it, and the next thing I knew, Fred was being asked, "Who presents this woman?"

This woman. Yes, she was a woman, and we must let her live her own life. I sat and watched the ceremony through misty eyes.

Everything was perfect. The skies were bright and sunny. The temperature was an unbelievable 82 degrees. The flowers had recovered so beautifully from the deer nibbling, and were full and vibrant. Eric stood tall and handsome in his black tuxedo, and neither of their voices faltered as they took their vows. Ariel's dress was brilliantly white in the sunlight, her red hair bright underneath the softly billowing veil, and...what was that? Wha...? A lightning bug was crawling up her dress. I saw it. Eric saw it. Belle saw it. When we conferred afterwards, we all expressed our desire to step forward and brush it off, but we controlled ourselves and let it crawl. It crawled into her veil and back down again. She eventually found it...during the reception.

We had forgotten to light the tiki torches. I also realized we had forgotten to trim the end of the aisle runner. Oops. Just a couple of small boo-boos.

I teared up once more, for only a moment or two. The emotional impact of my daughter standing before me, reciting the age old wedding vows, combined with the perfect beauty of the day, the pain in my foot and knee, and my sheer exhaustion suddenly hit me hard. I heard words, but didn't comprehend. My daughter was getting married.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant was saying. It was done. Eric bent down for the kiss, then they turned to face us, all smiles, and began walking back toward the house. The officiant told the crowd that they were welcome to move on to the reception in Clarksville, where hors d'oerves and drinks were awaiting. But people lingered. The unusually comfortable temperature and sunshine were welcoming, and guests chatted and laughed while the photographers got the family and wedding party together for photos.

Cali and Ashley, from Once Like a Spark Photography, were fantastic. They were professional, friendly, and unobtrusive, yet took hundreds of photos. I heard the slight click, click, clicks, of their camera throughout the ceremony. We invited them to the reception as guests, under absolutely no obligation to take more pictures, but they had another wedding in the area, and left after the formal shots. I haven't even seen the pictures yet, but I know I wouldn't hesitate to hire them again, based simply on their lovely personalities.

Fred hurriedly got the musical equipment back into the basement, while I went back into the house, turning off lights, and gathering the few things that had to go with us to the reception. People were still slathering strawberry butter on rolls. "Oh, oh my God," a male voice said. "These are the best things I've ever eaten." "They're a little cool now," I told the voice. "Put it in the microwave for about ten seconds." "You mean they get BETTER?" the voice said in amazement.

Belle went with Ariel into her old bedroom and bustled the wedding gown, for ease of walking and dancing. The guests slowly left, some going to the reception and some back to their hotel, where Ariel and Eric had a cab hired for the evening. Belle rode with Fred and me to the Cumberland Room, Fred keeping up a constant chatter with Belle in the backseat. I closed my eyes, savoring these relaxing minutes and reliving the wedding in flashes of color and sunshine: Ariel's smile, the sparkle of crystals on the white gown, a glimpse of bright red ballet shoe peeking from under the gown. I leaned back in the comfy cushion of my car seat and smiled, quite satisfied.

Ariel's Wedding, Part XIV, Hurry, Hurry, Hurry!

2009-07-29T13:37:00.000-07:00

I had been preparing for this day since February. Actually, since long before that. I mean, years ago, I planned and designed the graceful arch of the lattice underneath the deck at the back of the house just for this wedding. No, Ariel hadn't been engaged at the time. No, she hadn't even met Eric. But I knew the day would come when she would have a wedding, and I might as well start making the back yard lovely for that eventual event.

Fred, however, is not a planner, and waited until five hours before the wedding to decide that today we needed to upgrade the wiring in the basement. I shrank back from him and said incredulously, "You're kidding!" when he told me, on the way home, that he wanted to stop by Van's and get some parts to change out an electrical outlet. "You know how easily our electricity goes out in the basement," he began explaining. Oh yeah, I knew. Why, just two weeks earlier, I had gone down to get a Lean Cuisine spinach and mushroom pizza from the big freezer in the basement and found a trail of water across the floor and everything completely thawed in the freezer. Probably about $200 worth of food lost. But that didn't explain why NOW was the time to switch out an electrical plug. "You want the electricity to go out while the Pianist is playing, and Ariel is coming down the aisle?"

We stopped at Van's. "What color are the switch plates in the basement?" Fred asked me. "I have no idea," I replied shortly, deep in thought with my timeline and still quite miffed that he had waited until five hours before the ceremony to do this. "Are they white?" he asked. "I have no idea," I said again. His voice rose a bit. "Well, are they off-white? Or bone?" I looked at him and said seriously, "Fred. I. Don't. Know. It's the basement. Get whatever you want." He turned to go into the store, then said, "You think they might be white?" "I don't care! Get white!" "Geez!" I said to Jane, and she simply nodded in agreement.

He bought stainless steel.

I didn't care.

After we'd wolfed down sub sandwiches, Miss Jane went upstairs to make more tea, clean the hardwood floors, and do last minute spot cleaning. Ariel and Belle began making their bouquets with the smaller zinnias that Godsend Flower Lady had designated for that purpose, and corsages with the most diminutive of the colorful flowers. I directed Eric and the Beast in the back yard. "Move that grill off the deck." "Don't forget Spooky's little cat house." "Those chairs hafta come down here in the front row." "Do we need to move any of these tiki torches?" "Where do y'all want the arch?" Fred, finished with the installation of the new outlet, came out to supervise the placement of the aisle runner. "Why'd y'all put the arch over there?" he asked. "I thought you wanted it in front of the greenery." "The whole yard's green," I told him. "It looks great right there." He didn't think so. He fussed about the arch; he fussed about the aisle runner. He declared we didn't know what we were doing with it. "Gimme that thing," he said shortly, grabbing the hammer and long pins he'd gotten from Van's to hold the runner in place. We all backed away and let him do things his way.

We all show stress in different ways; mine shows in my waist and hips, my fingernails, and my harried expression; Fred's stress shows in...let's just call it...irritability.

Now for the flowers. I wheeled the hand truck around from its' little spot under Fred's workbench and told Eric and the Beast those largest pots were heavy. But these were manly men I was dealing with; they had no need of any sissified hand truck. They masterfully shouldered pot after pot and placed them per my directives. "Ummm..I think we want that one right here," I said. "That's not quite right...maybe turn it halfway around...there! Maybe...about four more inches...no, back just an inch...too much...there! Now you've got it!" "No, no, no...the other side has to show, the side that trails." "That's not quite centered...move it just a tad that way..." "That one's leaning; can we get something for a prop?" "No, you've got two yellows here; we need one yellow and two purples." I stood back and peered critically at the arrangements. "No, this one doesn't work. We'll have to move this one...over here...and this one...over here...and these two...can go here." "Oh! We forgot the rocks! For the rock garden," I sheepishly explained. I looked at their sweaty faces and relented. "We probably don't need the rock garden, do we?"

They made a quick getaway to the hotel in Clarksville.

I never knew I had drill sergeant blood flowing in my veins.

I set the deck table with a white tablecloth, tall floral arrangement, and the baskets of bird seed and fans. Perfect. The dining room table was set with my best white eyelet tablecloth, another tall vase of flowers, and laid with lilac cocktail napkins and the basket for the rolls. The Beast would whisk the silver wrapped giftcard box off the table and to the reception immediately following the ceremony.

I went out onto the front porch and took the last two flower arrangements: one small mason jar with leftover pale yellow sunflowers, which I put beside my new watering can fountain, and a vase of leftover mixed blossoms on the small table between the two white rocking chairs.

Everything looked lovely. The girls had retreated into Ariel's bedroom to get ready. Miss Jane was ready. The Pianist arrived and Fred, still wearing his faded, torn, paint-splattered work clothes, whisked him away upstairs to the music room, "to lay down a piano track on this new song I wrote," he explained. "Fred, it's already after 4:00!" I panicked. "This won't take ten minutes," he assured me.

He finally emerged, ready to shower and change, with less than twenty minutes til the ceremony.

I rushed around, brushng my hair, applying minimal makeup, and getting into my new dress. Ariel and Fred had agreed that the black and white polka dotted was their favorite, and, at the time, so did I. Now, looking at the photos and the video, I wish I'd gone with the black dressier outfit. It had long sleeves, which would have hidden my huge cellulite-y upper arms and elbows. Too late now.

Things started hopping. I set out the whipped butter and strawberry butter I'd made the day before. Pans of rolls went into the ovens and I filled the huge white cloth-draped basket with the big soft yeasty creations. The phone rang, and I, busy with the rolls, let the answering machine get it. "Uh, Fred and Ethel, this is Cousin Pearl. Uh, gimme a call." A moment later, my cell phone rang. Cousin Pearl. "Hi Pearl," I said quickly. "I'm sorry I didn't answer the house phone, but I was just too busy to talk." Now, any normal person would have taken this very broad hint and said, "Oh, of course, I'm so sorry. I'll see you shortly." But not Pearl. "Oh, reallllly?" she said, in a tone that clearly said she'd had no idea I wasn't just sitting in the recliner with my feet up. "I bet Ariel looks beauuuutiful, don't she? Don't she? Awwww, I bet everything's beauuuutiful, ain't it? Ain't it? Hey, you know what..." At this point, the doorbell rang, and I had to cut her off. "Pearl, I'm sorry, but people are arriving, and I'm gonna hafta go." "Oh, okay," she said. "Well, I just wanted to tell y'all that I made some ribbons at work for Ariel to give out as favors. They're purrrrty. Ya know? I put their names and the date on 'em, ya know, and there's a real purty poem on 'em. You'll see 'em." "Okay, thanks," I said, and hung up. Favors? You're calling me NOW to tell me you made some favors?

She and Fred certainly share the same last-minute gene.

I peeked in on Ariel and Belle as often as possible, and took a few pictures. The doorbell rang continuously. The photographers arrived and disappeared into Ariel's bedroom. Eric and the Beast returned and retreated into the basement with the officiant. The best man showed up. The Pianist consulted with me about the playlist. Bubba and Mrs. Bubba were the first guests. "Is there anything we can do?" Mrs. Bubba asked me. "Yes," I said, suddenly remembering that we hadn't tied the white tulle bows and the little stick figure bride and groom onto the arch. Thank goodness they took care of those details.

Fred and I had put together a slideshow presentation of Ariel and Eric, from birth to present, complete with music, and had it playing continuously on the living room tv. Fred was the technical brain behind the project and I had creative control. The video was twelve minutes long, beginning with newborn photos, and had both touching and amusing moments. We started with the song, Baby Mine, from Dumbo, and ended with an old Beatles song, I Will, both sung by Alison Krause. Beautiful versions. In between, we segued into When You Wish Upon a Star and What a Wonderful World. I had set a box of Kleenex on the coffee table, as I had boohooed many times myself while creating it. It was a big hit with our guests.

Prince Charming and Cinderella arrived just in the nick of time and disappeared into his old bedroom to change from their work clothes. Charming had been teaching at band camp all day and Cindy had taken off early from her brand new job as a chemist. Eric's family came in and I was introduced to his younger (OHMYGODCUTE) brothers. Wendy had color coordinated her entire family's wardrobe, and they looked terrific. More guests arrived. Pearl, Granny, and Big Jethro came in, and Pearl immediately cornered me. "Here's them ribbons," she said, handing me a bundle of golden edged satin bookmarks. They were really very pretty, but I had no idea what to do with them at this late date. I told her I would give them to Ariel as soon as possible. "Hey, I brung some pitchers of my grandkids," she started, reaching into her purse and withdrawing a bulging album. It was at this point that Fred stepped out of our bedroom, and I called to him. "Fred, come here and look at these pictures Pearl's got!"

Whew. Close call.

The time was 4:53. I shooed everybody out into the back yard, where the Pianist was playing underneath the towering sycamores. We were ready.

Ariel's Wedding, Part XII, Final Preparations

2009-07-28T01:04:00.000-07:00

Really, now that I can breathe, sit back with my feet up, and relive that day, I marvel that it all came together. That everything was done on time, that we had no major mishaps, that it was an absolutely beautiful wedding.

And it was. In spite of my doubts about the bright multi-colored flowers, it was beautiful. In spite of my gaining weight, instead of losing; in spite of the dadgum deer; and in spite of Fred's meager budget, it was beautiful.

We got off to an early start on The Big Day. Fred had his usual sausage and biscuits and Diet Coke before we left, but I had intended to stop along the way and get something for Miss Jane and me. Forgot all about it. Forgot to eat. Can you believe it? My usual answer to stress is to grab the first edible whatever I see and shove it into my mouth as quickly as possible, followed by more edible whatevers being shoved into my mouth as quickly as possible. But I guess this time, the combination of stress and NO TIME TO THINK ABOUT EDIBLE WHATEVERS just washed away my need for excess calories.

We loaded my car and Fred's truck to the max. "Why are we gonna hafta take the truck?" Fred complained. I rolled my eyes and said, "Fred, LOOK at all this stuff!" I pointed to piles of chafing dishes, fuel, dinner and dessert plates, napkin rolls and cocktail napkins, favors and disposable cameras, framed photos, tablecloths, vases, white light strands, serving dishes and utensils, cold drinks and cups, boxes of champagne flutes, and all those flowers in huge buckets of water. "And we've still got all that food upstairs that's gotta go, too. There's no way it's gonna fit into my car!" He huffed and puffed and complained about every item that he placed in his truckbed. "You're gonna hafta come over here and tell me what goes!" he commanded. "EVERYTHING on the ping-pong table goes," I called from the back of my car, where I was loading buckets of flowers. "What about this?" I didn't look up. "Did it come from the ping-pong table?" I asked. It had. "EVERYTHING from the ping-pong table," I told him again. "What about this?" he asked a moment later. "EVERYTHING FROM THE PING-PONG TABLE," I said through clenched teeth. And, incredibly, a moment later, he asked yet again, "What about this?" I narrowed my eyes, took a deep breath, looked straight at him, and said very calmly, "Yes. It goes."

Sometimes I amaze myself.

We picked up the cheese tray, shrimp rings, and cole slaw from Walmart's deli. "Be careful with this lid," the lady at the counter told us, as she placed the tray in the bottom of the buggy. "It doesn't really fit this large tray very well." I reminded Fred of her words when he took the tray from me and tried to put it in the backseat of his truck. "I've got it," he said irritably. The tray went one way, the lid went the other way, and I picked grapes and little chunks of Colby and cheddar out of the floorboard of Fred's Toyota pickup for several minutes.

Miss Jane was designated cheese tray holder for the remainder of the journey.

Ariel and Eric had the music blaring and the tables already set up when we arrived at the Cumberland Room. We unloaded both our vehicles and Jane and I went into the kitchen, where I had only a moment to regret that I would not be fully utilizing this fabulous cooking facility. "What an idiot!" I was to remind myself later that night. By the time all the chairs had been set out, and Fred had hooked up the microphone and repeated his necessary, but annoying, "test, test, check one, check two, test, test, check, check, debit card, check," (Oh, what a clever man I married,) Belle and her husband had arrived with the cake.

This was the moment of truth. The moment when we would see the polka-dotted, striped, swirled purple cake, and see if all two hundred-some-odd dollars of it had survived the fifty-plus mile drive, up the steep ridge. I held my breath as Ariel lifted the lid. It had survived! And it was darling! "OH!" we females said in unison, while Fred made a face and declared it quite the ugliest cake he'd ever seen.

No one paid him any attention.

Miss Jane and I went back into the kitchen and put together huge bowls of tossed salad. Romaine lettuce, a little iceberg, and several different varieties of field greens, with grape tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, purple cabbage, and freshly sliced strawberries. We got the rolls together and set them out to rise on one end of the long stainless steel island. Ariel and Belle joined us after a while, and we put together the floral centerpieces. I hadn't worried myself over the zinnias; they were pretty, and I liked the idea of them for table arrangements; but those huge sunflowers...I must admit, I'd had my doubts. I was wrong, though. They looked great, and the tables and vases were large enough to accommodate their size.

When the kitchen work was finally done, Miss Jane and I ventured out into the ballroom. What an amazing site awaited us! The huge, cavernous room had been completely transformed. The white linen tablecloths hung to the floor on the seven round tables, set in a circle around the stone dance floor. Wide black satin ribbons ran the length of the tables and fell halfway to the floor on opposite sides. Each table had a vase of flowers, votive candles, a white disposable camera, and nine place settings: the clear plates, embossed with purple bride and groom, little tulle packs of personalized M&Ms, tied with lilac ribbon, and cutlery, folded inside black napkins and tied with silver-edged lilac ribbon. Even the plain black chairs seemed less utilitarian and somehow almost elegant now, perfectly coordinated with the ribbons and napkins. The banquet-styled head table was similarly dressed, but with empty vases, which would later hold the bride's and matron of honor's bouquets. White lights glowed softly from beneath the tablecloths around the buffet and cake tables. The men needed just a bit of assistance with the chafing dishes on the buffet tables; just a bit. After all, our men were learned in music, martial arts, and truck driving. They couldn't be expected to know how to assemble a chafing dish. But they didn't miss it by much.

The cake! As cute as it had been fresh out of the box, it was even more darling now. Ariel and Belle had placed the bride and groom cats on top and decorated the entire creation with bright silk flowers. This had been another area of much concern for me, and again, I had worried needlessly. It was adorable.

I do a lot of needless worrying.

I got to work on the gift tables. Ariel and Eric had set two tables in an "L," and had hung them with white tablecloths. Now I grabbed four empty boxes, set them upside down on the tables, and draped the two remaining tablecloths over the whole shebang. "What are you DOING?" Fred asked curiously. "I'm building plateaus," I told him. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doin'." I removed bubble wrapped framed photos from boxes and set them here and there among the folds and drapes of the tablecloths, surrounding the large sepia engagement photo I'd had done for Ariel and Eric at Hobby Lobby, as a wedding gift. I rearranged only a few of them, then curled wide purple and lilac ribbons in and out among them. It looked great. Even Fred complimented my creation.

We were done. I gave a list of instructions to Belle's husband, the Beast, who would hustle back immediately following the ceremony, in order to light candles, receive the catering order, and set out last minute items. I hesitate to refer to him as the Beast, as he is anything BUT beastly. Dear man, I don't know how we would have gotten through the day without him.

Ariel gave the light switch a slow turn, until she was satisfied with the diffused light in the room. I snapped a few pictures, gave everything a last approving glance, and we locked up. I had hoped we'd been done here by noon, and when we got in the car, I noted the time: 12:01. Right on schedule. Good thing, because we still had lots to do at home.

Ariel's Wedding, Part XII, Happy the Bride the Sun Shines On

2009-07-25T09:55:00.000-07:00

Today is the day. The big day. The day when my little Ariel becomes Mrs. Prince Eric. And I'm okay.

Okay, I'm still a little stressed. Two hours of sleep night before last and four hours last night have left me...a bit exhilarated, actually! I have a slight headache; a couple of Ibuprofen will take care of that nicely. My eyes are already all puffy and swollen with allergies, anyway. My toe is no longer throbbing, after breaking it on Saturday morning, but my feet are swollen, and my legs have the odd tiny red rash they get when I've been on my feet in the sun. I have no idea what that is. I stand all night long on a concrete floor at work, and my legs are fine; but let me stand or walk in the sunshine for fifteen minutes, and my legs look like they're on fire. No, it's not sunburn; I was wearing long jeans.

Whatever.

The announcement came out in the Ashland City Times. I toyed with the wording; thought about saying that the ceremony would be held on the lawn at the estate of the bride's parents, between the Olympic training grounds and the tennis courts.

I'm fairly certain I remember that, at one time, the young lady next door wanted to be an Olympic tumbler, or whatever they're called. And the tennis court is actually in the back yard of THEIR neighbor.

I wisely decided against the hoity-toity pretense.

Somehow, everything came together yesterday. I REALLY had my doubts. I had lists and lists and more lists. Lists telling me what list to consult. Miss Jane came up in the early afternoon and cleaned the house. Ariel and Eric followed soon afterwards with the flowers. WOW! This Flower Lady is a GODSEND! She handpicked hundreds of perfect flowers for the arrangements, corsages, and boutonnieres, DELIVERED them all sorted in buckets, along with asparagus fern for fillers, and even included corsage pins and floral tape. All for $60! Of course, we gave her more than that, but we still got a fantastic bargain.

Ariel, Eric, and I went to Clarksville and picked up the tablecloths and heart-shaped, ivy wrapped arch. Eric had to sit in the backseat of Ariel's car, wedged in between the posts of the disassembled arch, part of it sticking out the window. He did not look comfortable.

Ariel and I put together the floral arrangements that stay at the house, plus the corsages, and it looks like we'll have plenty of flowers left over.

Eric and Fred moved the gas grill and Spooky's little cat house off the deck and set the tiki torches out in the ceremony area. All day rain left the ground nice and soft. But, I am happy to report that today's forecast is PERFECT: 82 degrees and scattered clouds. My friend, Mutter said she sent Pixie Dust our way; that's really the only explanation, because Tennessee in July is normally sunny, hot and humid.

I got everything all boxed up in the basement, labeled, and ready to be loaded into my car and Fred's truck. The pans are set out for the rolls, which will rise all day and be ready to bake this afternoon. I have made the tea, which is steeping and cooling, and waiting to be funneled into emptied two-liter Diet Coke bottles.

I haven't heard yet today from Mama. I do so hope she's feeling better and will be able to come. Sunday, Daddy called and said Mama was so miserable, she would not be able to make it, but when we visited her on Monday, she was feeling better and her shingles rash was beginning to scab over. So, she was hopeful she'd feel like attending today.

Jane is asleep in Ariel's old bedroom. Fred is asleep in our bedroom. Spooky is asleep smack dab in the middle of Charming's old bed, the one I used practically a whole lint roller on yesterday. If Mama comes and stays overnight, I'll have to clean it again.

Everything is quiet and peaceful. Daylight is breaking outside, and the fog is already lifting. We've left the porch lights on the last several nights, to discourage the deer from one last pre-wedding feast on my flowers, and all that rain yesterday could only have done them good.

6:30. I must get up from this recliner, bathe and dress, wake my sleepyheads, pour the tea into the Diet Coke bottles, and make fresh batches for the pitchers to stay here at the house. Ariel and Eric will pick up the key to the Cumberland Room, and we'll stop by Walmart and get the trays I've ordered from the deli. Belle and The Beast will stop by Publix and bring the cake. We'll, hopefully, have everything ready at the reception site in a couple of hours and be back at the house to finish up here. Still have to set out the arch, the chairs, get tables set, bake rolls, make beds, and clean the floors. AND get all dolled up. Maybe we'll even have a few minutes to relax before guests begin arriving.

Fred just awoke and went into the laundry room, from where he hollered back at me, "Why'd you rearrange the laundry room?" Rearrange the laundry room? I was puzzled for only a moment, before I answered. "I didn't rearrange it, I just put the clothes away." I heard him sigh heavily. "Well, where's my underwear?"
"In your underwear drawer, of course," I replied. His voice rose a couple of octaves, as he shouted, "What in the world is it doing in there?"

Oh Fred.

Ariel's Wedding, Part XI, In Other Words...

2009-07-21T17:04:00.001-07:00

Enough of this sentimental stuff. On with the wedding planning!

Busy does not begin to describe this week. I am trying, really I am, to turn my schedule upside down and sleep at night, but I'm finding it frustratingly difficult. It took months to adjust to working nights, but adjust I certainly have. Here it is, almost midnight, and, in spite of knowing I have to be up by 7:00, I'm wide awake.

I really have no time to blog tonight, so the heart of this post is written by Ariel. She originally posted this on facebook, and asks me to tell you all that this is NOT her best writing.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Stress... Me (Ariel) Venting...Share
Fri at 3:56pm

Ugh...things I was afraid of about the wedding:
1. the officiant wouldn't show up
2. the cab driver wouldn't show up
3. the caterer wouldn't show up
4. the bartender wouldn't show up
5. it would rain
6. lots of guests wouldn't show up...or would come late
7. the photographer would forget about us
8. the cake will get messed up
9. the schedule just won't work
10. the flowers from WalMart would look just like flowers from WalMart
10. this list could go on and on and on

A lot of these fears have been eased. The caterer seems like a fairly competent guy and has talked with my mom extensively about the buffet and food. He is supposed to call some time this week to confirm everything. And we have his cell phone number in case he doesn't show up on time. But hey...reputable restaurant. Everything should be fine.

Eric will be calling the officiant on Tuesday to make sure everything is still a go. Surely he wouldn't leave us hanging.

The bartender seems to be a very trustworthy guy. And he looks like Santa Claus. And he works with Eric. So he definitely wouldn't want to mess anything up there. And if by some crazy chance, an emergency arises right before the wedding, we have a guest who likes to bartend too.

The photographer has made up a schedule and I'm not anticipating any problems now that I know we haven't been forgotten. She will be calling me this week, too, to confirm everything again.

Scattered storms are in the forecast for the "big day." That's alright though - currently, the rain chance stands at 30%, and if it starts to rain, well, we're in Tennessee...we'll just wait 15 minutes and start the ceremony then.

And I plan on mass-marketing my wedding date to facebook friends the day before, so they don't forget. So at least if Eric's entire family forgets to drive down from PA, and my whole family forgets that I'm getting married, at least my facebook friends will be there. ;)

I trust Publix for the cake. And I trust Belle's husband's driving...so, hopefully the cake will arrive in one piece. And if it doesn't, well, then it's precut for the cake cutting ceremony. Haha...

I found a woman at the Murfreesboro Farmer's Market who sells BEAUTIFUL zinnias, coneflowers, and sunflowers for $4 an arrangement! Wowie! I asked her about getting some stuff together for my wedding, and she is super excited to be doing all of the arrangements for me! Even the bouquets! And they are multi-colored ones, just like I wanted. She's actually going to pick them fresh for me Wednesday morning and deliver them to my house herself that day. And we're getting arrangements of about 3 dozen flowers for 7 different tables, 3 larger arrangements, 2 bouquets, and flowers for boutonnieres and corsages all for $60. And...if something falls through with this...which I don't think it will...this woman was really all but jumping in the air for joy over getting to make arrangements for my wedding...then I'll go with the original plan and stop by WalMart, Publix, and Kroger, and make my own arrangements the day before.

Now, here's where the extra bit of stress is coming in. The cab driver. I had talked with a cab company in Clarksville and got a quote of just $45 an hour for someone to drive people back and forth between the hotel and the reception site. The "drunk bus," if you will. So we don't have, you know, inebriated guests driving around on twisty Clarksville roads in the middle of the night. So, I had planned on prepaying the cab boss lady this weekend. She told me just to give her a call and we could meet whenever I was in the area. The cost would be $225. Called her yesterday. No response. Left a message. No response. Called again today to tell her I could come pay her on Sunday. "Well, um...yeah, I talked to some of the drivers about that...and uh...they wanted to up the price a little bit to make sure they had gas money. I didn't realize how far out there that was. That's got to be, what...at least twenty miles or so." Uh...okay...price quote out the window. How much extra? "Just $15 an hour." $15 an hour!? What the...? That's an extra $75! That's $300! No deal. I told her that was a bit much and I didn't know about that...that the driver's expenses would be covered and that he would only end up taking about 6 or 7 round trips total...that we were planning on tipping him on site...and that he would get to spend most of the evening sitting around eating free food at the reception. So she asks, "So, who would be tipping him?" Uh...the guests and if they don't, we will tip him on site. "Oh, well, I'll talk to the drivers and see what we can negotiate. Just call me when you're in the area on Sunday. They want to make sure they have enough for gas and everything....it's expensive." Ugh...how irritating! You can't quote me a price and then up it by $75 when I go to pay! So perhaps it will still be $225. That's all I'm giving her. I'll tell her the rest will be made up in tips when he shows up and does his job if it's more. And he better show up...or I will be calling her on her cell phone and letting her know. And I will be getting the name of the driver and his cell phone number too. Ugh...you're a cab company! You're not supposed to give the bride undue stress on her wedding day!

So yeah...that's the stress. Not really much I can do about everything but call and remind people to show up and call the weatherman and tell him to keep that rain out of Pleasant View at least between 4 and 6. I'm so used to getting stuff done myself...even if everything runs smoothly, I'm going to worry because I'm not in charge. I'll be in a big white dress trying to relax and "enjoy my day." Although I think I'd enjoy it more if I could just make sure everyone was doing what they are supposed to. I would be much more comfortable if I could just call everyone to make sure they are where they are supposed to be and supervise setup at the reception venue...but alas, I'll be saying vows and stuff...so a cell phone call during the middle of that would probably be frowned upon. At least I'm pretty much finished with everything for my grad class. And I'm trying not to worry about school stuff until closer to August. And I've lost like 8 pounds since vacation so I won't have any trouble fitting into the wedding dress. That's nice.

By the way, I looked up the distance between the hotel and reception site - 12 1/2 miles...not 20.

_________________________________________________________________________________

My reply to Ariel's post:

These are a lot of my fears, too. I will add to that:
EVERYBODY who didn't RSVP shows up and we don't have enough food.
I don't fit into my new dress.
One or all of us trips walking down the aisle.
My allergy eyes are terrible that day and I rub all my make-up off, leaving me very pale and washed out.
My rolls don't rise.
The deer decide to break down my barricade and eat all the flowers the night before the wedding.
We don't finish cleaning by 1am and lose our deposit.
When the sun hits your white gown, everyone sees that it's covered in black Spooky hair.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Epilogue: The cab situation has been settled. Ariel met with and paid the original agreed amount, and says everything seems to be fine there.
Just in case, I have made up more silverware packets today. The favors and plates should hold out, and I added a bit more food to our catering order.
The deer have pretty much decimated one of my huge pots of impatiens out front, and even nibbled on one that IS ON THE PORCH! But the barricade seems to be working on the pots for the back yard. We just won't be able to set them out until the morning of the wedding.
Sonny is safely back in jail!
And the really great news is that rain has been taken completely out of the forecast! Scattered thunderstorms both the day before and after, but the wedding day is supposed to be mostly sunny and only 83 degrees! You can't get better than that in Tennessee in July.

I will talk with you all again after my daughter has a new name, and I have a new son.

Ariel's Wedding, Part X, Where Are You Going My Little One?

2009-07-16T14:36:00.000-07:00

T minus seven days and counting...

I've had a good long cry this morning. It started almost as soon as I got on I-24, coming home from work. It really should have started at Kroger, where I spent $122 on groceries. Most of it for appetizers for the ceremony and reception and brunch the following morning. And that's not including the trays I'll be ordering from Walmart's deli, or the Honeybaked Ham.

Oh well, how often does one's only daughter get married?

That's what started my tears flowing. The sudden import that my only daughter would next week be a married woman. The wedding is an exciting event, something we've been planning for months now, a big party, and parties are my forte. So many decisions to be made, the flowers, the color scheme, the foods, the guest list, the music, all the tiny little details have kept me happily occupied since February. But this morning, I realized that the party, the wedding, was merely the setting for a life-changing event. My daughter is getting married. MARRIED. That tiny little girl who changed my own life twenty six years ago, when she entered this world at five pounds, five ounces, is going to walk out the back door my little girl, and walk back in someone's wife. This can't be happening! She's not a woman! She's just a baby! Surely it was only yesterday that she was taking her first steps, that she was stumbling over the words in Hop on Pop, that I burst into tears when I left her on her first day of school. How many times have I held her in my arms, marveling at her perfect little fingers and toes, her soft pink skin, her tiny upturned nose, her lips that quivered in sleep? How many times did I cradle her in the old bentwood rocker, holding her late into the night, reluctant to lay her in the crib, just because I couldn't bear to take my arms from around her tiny body? How often did we read One Fish, Two Fish, and play 'school?'Color together, shop, tell stories, do homework? I've kissed her little boo-boos and settled squabbles with her brother and wiped the tears from her eyes oh! so many times. She can't be MARRYING somebody; she's no woman; she's just my little girl.

She's just my little girl.

I had a song stuck in my head that was making it even worse. Do you remember the old song called Turn Around? It became a big hit for Harry Belafonte, I think, after Kodak used it in a commercial in the 1960's.
"Where are you going, my little one, little one?
Where are you going, my baby, my own?
Turn around, and you're two, turn around, and you're four,
Turn around, and you're a young girl going out of the door."

I needed to get rid of that song. I needed some loud, raucous, Lynard Skynard something, or some twangy country tune, or even that annoying little ditty about FreeCreditReport.com. I turned on the radio, tuned to a country station, and there was Kenny Chesney singing There Goes My Life. It's a beautiful song, probably my favorite of his, but this was NOT what I needed right now. I replaced one song about a little girl growing up and leaving with another song about a little girl growing up and leaving. The tears flowed more freely.

I drove into the garage and stepped outside to have a word with my flowers. Now, don't look at me like I'm crazy; there's a school of thought that speaking in favorable tones helps your plants grow. I told them all how proud I was that they had recovered from all the dadgum deer nibbling, told them they were beautiful, and that show time was in only a week, and I choked up again. And as I turned to reenter the garage, I saw a horrifying sight. Barely two feet inside the garage, I had run over a frog. A big gray speckled frog, and I had crushed the entire lower half of his body. Blood was pooled in the floor around the poor thing, and spotted in tire treads leading to my parking spot. My hand went to my mouth, and I cried out through my fingers, "Oh! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" And then,...oh no! It moved! It was still alive and struggling to get up! It lifted its' head and tried pulling up on its' front legs, but it was no use. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." I quickly made one of the most difficult decisions I've ever had to make: I must kill this poor creature and put it out of its' misery. Swiftly scanning the garage, I didn't see anything heavy enough to be sure the job could be done in one blow. My car!...the only thing I could do was get back in the car, veer slightly to the left, and run it over again. Giving it one last pitiful glance, I started the engine and backed out and in again, the whole time mindlessly repeating "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," tears streaming down my face. I got out and made sure it was dead, and yes, thank goodness it was. I had taken the life of a poor helpless creature who meant me no harm, who meant no harm to my property, who had more than likely been trapped in the garage and was attempting escape.

Suddenly, there came to mind the black widow spider I had reluctantly killed years ago. She had been stretched across the inside door frame of our storage building in the back yard of the old house. When I had opened the double aluminum doors, she was exposed, and she had scuttled quickly across the length of her web and wrapped her body around her huge white egg sack. Protecting her babies. With tears in my eyes, I had sprayed her and her egg sack with an entire can of Raid. She was a mother, and obviously a good one, but I had babies of my own, and my babies must also be protected.

Standing in the garage with the hose washing away the remains of the frog, I cried in earnest. I cried for the spider. I cried for the frog. I cried for flies I had swatted, and bagworms I had dropped into buckets of kerosene, and those Japanese beetles I had pinched off my impatiens last week. I cried for the moles who were determined to dig up our entire back yard, until Fred and I had spent half an hour dropping little blue rat poison pellets into their tunnels. I cried for the dadgum deer, from whom I was denying their midnight snack. And I cried again for my baby, who was clearly no longer my baby, but a young woman in love and ready to marry her young man.

My heart ached. When the floor was finally clean, the frog unceremoniously tossed into the woods, and no more tears would come, I hauled my groceries upstairs, put them away, and then came back down into the basement to organize all those wedding supplies. Just because my hormones were raging out of control was no reason to allow my daughter a less than perfect wedding.

Someday, she'll probably have a daughter of her own, and she'll go through this, too. And I hope I'll be there to hold her, dry her tears, and tell her she'll get through this; she's a woman.

Ariel's Wedding, Part IX, Sentimentality

2009-07-08T05:24:00.000-07:00

Busy, busy, busy!

The wedding is just over two weeks away, and I have a to-do list a mile long. As is my tendency, I have put off everything until the last minute, and here it is, staring me in the face. Remember when I said I would buy my mother-of-the-bride dress no less than one month before the wedding?

HA!

Shopping for a dress, exactly the same size as I could have bought last month, (!) is but one of the many items on my list for tomorrow.

But I did take care of quite a few things by phone. Instead of making a two-plus hour trip tomorrow to pay for the cake, I was able to pay by phone. And instead of trekking to Clarksville to put in the final order for the linens, I took care of that over the phone, too.

We have decided we have as final a head count as we are likely to get. Cousin Pearl still hasn't decided whether she'll be bringing a guest, and there are a few people who didn't respond at all, even though we feel fairly certain they'll be there. My mother has come down with a terrible case of shingles, and is hoping to be well by the wedding date. Youngest sister Carolyn has a brand spanking new boyfriend and has moved in with him, so I have no idea if A) she's still coming, or B) she'll be bringing Brand Spanking New Boyfriend. Elly May responded that she would be bringing FOUR guests, for Heaven's sake, but I do have good news on that: Granny called tonight to report that Elly had gotten fed up with Sonny AGAIN and kicked him out today. Went to the police department and took out a restraining order against him. Which means he'll probably be back in jail by the wedding.

I...will resist commentary on that for just now.

(Pay no attention to the faint sounds of applause and hallelujahs you hear coming from your computer.)

I began a major project, which led to a second major project. I emailed Eric's mother and asked her for some photos of Eric through the years, which she sent. (Thank you so much, Wendy!) I then purchased quite a few frames in various sizes and styles and have put together a display of both Eric and Ariel, for the gift table. Major project number one. Number two came about as I was searching for pictures of Ariel, and realized my photos needing organizing. Eleven albums, two photo file boxes, plenty of Walmart envelopes full of photos, and lots of loose ones. What a mess! I worked on both projects simultaneously for two weeks, photos jumbled and sorted on the dining room table. Fred was not happy about having to eat supper in the living room every night. Finally, I decided this was just not the time to take on such a massive task, and I just shoved everything back in the closet. I got a lot of photos framed, but all those albums are gonna have to wait.

I have cried many a nostalgic tear while going through all those old photos. My babies are babies no more. I will never again see their pink cherubic cheeks through my camera lens, never again catch them in a moment of "playing house," never again smile at their laughing faces as they ride atop Fred's shoulders. So many memories: Ariel gingerly sticking her toes in the ocean for the first time; Charming, on top of the world, riding without his training wheels; the two of them asleep in my bed together. Baby Ariel asleep on Fred's chest, Baby Charming asleep in his high chair. Ariel, age six months, in her first Mickey Mouse ears, and Charming, age four, debonair but visibly impatient to get outside and hunt Easter eggs. School pictures, Disneyworld pictures, birthday parties, swimming pools, Christmas mornings.

I have no more words just now, only the sound of my heartstrings ripping through my breast. I invite you to share in a few of my memories.

My little Prince Charming

Darling Ariel

Oh! My babies!

Ariel's Wedding, Part VIII, Getting Crafty

2009-06-12T11:09:00.000-07:00

T minus six weeks and counting...

Wedding plans are coming along nicely. The invitations have been sent out. Ariel did a terrific job on them. They're really gorgeous; I never would have imagined Walmart would have such exquisite items.

The mailman has to make a trip down our driveway and up the sidewalk to the porch about once a week now, with wedding doo-dads trickling in. Ariel found a fantastic one-day-only deal on the Knot.com for pearly white disposable cameras - $3.70 each! We ordered eight, one for each table, and they came in a few days later. I saw right away why they were so cheap - June 2009 is the expiration date. I'm sure they'll be fine in July.

The big order from Oriental Trading came in; the white folding fans, lilac tulle drawstring bags, bride and groom toilet paper, and wedding bells trash can cover. I decided last weekend we'd have a family cookout and get started on some of the crafty things - tying the organza ribbons onto the fans and filling the drawstring bags with birdseed. We had a great time. After we'd eaten and cleared the table, Ariel and I brought up the fans and bags from the basement and all of us (except Fred, who sat in the living room and watched tv) fancied up the fans. Ariel had another of her typically wonderful ideas: she brought the purple bride and groom stick figure rubber stamp and ink pad up from the basement and stamped each fan. Now they're customized! Sure, a couple of the brides are a little sketchy, and a couple of the grooms are a bit lop-sided, but after all the alcohol at the reception, Eric is liable to be a bit lop-sided himself.

Warning: Oriental Tradings' white paintable fans are a terrific deal at only $5.99 a dozen, but they are of a very inferior quality. Hard to open, harder to close. We set up an assembly line: Eric pried the stubborn things open, Ariel stamped them, Charming cut ribbon lengths, Cinderella tied ribbons on, and I reclosed them and stacked them in their basket. There were a couple I just could not get closed, so I passed them over to Eric, who said curiously, "What did you DO to this thing?" He finally got them shut, though. Those two are the bottom of the basket.

We filled the drawstring bags with birdseed. Each bag had a white label almost a third the size of the bag inside, so Ariel and I took scissors and cut the tags out. Eric tried valiantly to close the first one. "This one's defective; I got a defective one," he said, in a tone reminiscent of Julia Roberts with her opera glasses, in Pretty Woman. Ariel took the bag wordlessly and tied it closed.

We gave Eric the job of funneling the birdseed into the bags.

That bride and groom toilet paper! Now, you'd think at $2.99 a roll, the roll would be a decent size, wouldn't you? WRONG! Look at this comparison with a double roll of Charmin:

Pitiful, jes' plain pitiful.

Ariel merely rolled her eyes at the plastic wedding bell trash can cover.

Quite a view RSVPs have already been returned, with all of them expected in about ten more days. Once we have a final head count, we will buy the plates and napkins, and have another fun crafty day stamping the bride and groom onto them and tying up the plasticware bundles in the black napkins. It'll most likely be just the three of us this time around, though, or maybe we can convince Cinderella to come without Charming. Charming, never one to sit idly, has taken a summer job, building fences for a company owned by the parent of one of his students. The first week, he worked 68 hours, then had gigs two nights in a row on Nashville's Second Avenue with his rock band, Ten56. I'm rather surprised Fred didn't mention me taking a night off work to go hear the band; not that I would have done it, but I am surprised he didn't suggest it. The music they play is what I call 'screaming rock,' not at all to my taste. Now, if they'd learn some old Beatles and Monkees songs...

I was able to scrounge up thirty nine pots in various sizes for flowers for the ceremony. Walmart had outdoor spray paint at good prices, so I've painted those ugly old pots sand, beige, and terra cotta. They look terrific. There were only seventeen pots intially. Fred: "Seventeen?! Why in the world do you need SEVENTEEN pots of flowers?" You can imagine his chagrin at having to help me dump Miracle Grow potting soil into THIRTY NINE pots. Just the other day, as we were driving down I-24, I spotted a nice big sturdy nursery pot someone had tossed into the median. "Ooohh! Look!" I yelled excitedly. "What is it?" Fred said, braking in alarm. "A pot! Let's get that pot!"

He just kept driving.

I planted vincas in purple and white, impatiens in purple and pinkish lilac, verbena in white and several shades of purple, bright yellow marigolds, and something else (what was that?) with tiny fragile, soft lilac blooms. Everything is thriving, except for the largest pots of impatiens. I finally figured out what was ailing them: deer. Deer have been feeding on my tender purple impatiens at night! My lovely tiny babies are being violated in the middle of the night, and here I am, at the post office, unable to defend them! I did some research online and found that impatiens are like candy to Bambi and company. Well, that's great, just great. What to do now? I exhumed the worst of the pitiful remains of my blooms, and replanted vincas in their place. If that doesn't stop the midnight snacking, I'll try one or more of the other recommended methods: nylon stocking with human hair inside (I could use a haircut, anyway); hanging mirrors or tinfoil strips; human urine, predator urine or droppings ("Oh, Fre-ed! Would you come out and pee on my impatiens, please?"); deodorant soap (wonder if little bars of Quality Inn and Mickey Mouse soaps would work?); or dried blood bloodmeal in a cloth bag.

What in the world is dried blood bloodmeal?

Incidentally, I also found, on one website, that crushed impatiens leaves are a great natural remedy for everything from burns to mosquito bites to brown recluse spider bites! Who'da thunk it?

Well, obviously, the deer thunk it. Duh.

Looks like I'll have to be using some of the above methods. I came home early from work tonight and as I coasted down the driveway, my headlights caught three deer dispersing from the area where I am cultivating my wedding garden. "Noooooooo....!" I said aloud. Sure enough, they'd been at it again. My best pot, too! Now it has beautiful impatiens, already overflowing the pot, on one side, while the other side is a mass of gnawed stems. Dadgum deer.

I sure hope Fred has a full bladder this morning.

Ariel's Wedding, Part VII, The Great Pleasant View Yard Sale

2009-05-05T03:17:00.000-07:00

The Pleasant View yardsale is an event I eagerly anticipate every year. I've set my own junk out only twice; my preference is to be on the buying end of the sale. Bargains? Oh yes, I've found bargains: the huge gilded picture frame in Ariel's bedroom still had the original $260 tag on the back, and I got it for only $10. Of course, it had had a hideous 80's pastel abstract print in it then; I'd worked long and hard to remove all the staples and tiny nails that held it in place; but, once the artwork, such as it was, was freed and trashed, I had a beautiful, impressive frame. I took it and the Edmund Blair Leighton print I'd been storing to Joann Fabrics, where the lady behind the framing counter had it mounted and professionally backed in half an hour. For only $10. It looks fabulous. I always find plenty of children's books in great shape for Ariel's classroom; sometimes I can get Dr. Suess for a quarter each. The yard sale is where I found most of the baby toys upstairs and the tea cart that now graces my front porch. Can you believe it was only $1? All it needed was a little white spray paint. I found a coffee table for Charming's first college apartment, $5, in great shape, and a knick-knack shelf, $1, which comes in handy at Christmas time. And the baby clothes! I have a most difficult time resisting all the baby clothes. Well, let's face it: I DON'T resist. Ariel's old closet is testimony to that. In my defense, I assert that I WILL have grandchildren some day, and those grandchildren WILL need clothes, and why not go ahead and buy them now, especially when they're brand spanking new and often only fifty cents a piece. Ditto for the automatic swing - very gently used and only $5. No way was I gonna pass that up. The best towels in my house were found for fifty cents each, original price tags of $15 each still attached, and Fred always manages to find an old computer that needs some tender, loving care. The basement used to be full of those old castoffs. He tinkers with them a while, then either gives them away or stores them for who knows what.

I really can't say anything. Those yard sale Christmas dishes have been shoved underneath the basement shelves for over three years now.

I planned a month in advance for this year's sale, arranging to take the following night off work, so that I wouldn't have to sleep my Saturday away. I dug through my closet for my pink leather fanny pack and finally found it in the suitcase we had last used for Disneyworld. (Fanny packs make yardsaling a breeze: no purse to carry, easy access to phone, car keys, change, bills, and checkbook; sure, they're not exactly in vogue, but...hey, it's a yardsale.) I called Prince Charming and asked if he and Cinderella could join me. No, he said, he had a band competition that morning, and Cindy would be with him. Ariel wasn't sure about it; Eric would be working, and that was awfully early... She'd thing about it and call back. Fred asked Granny about coming up; she asked if we'd like to have breakfast first at BJs. Well, NO, I didn't want to have breakfast at BJs; BJs serves good old traditional breakfast food - you know, sausage and bacon and eggs and milk gravy and biscuits. All the stuff that I detest about breakfast. And besides, when I got home from work, I was gonna be ready to start yardsaling. I told Fred he and Granny could go to BJs and meet me later, but no, that wouldn't do. If I wasn't going, he wasn't going... Well, let's see: I don't like their food, I'll miss out on the best hour of yardsaling, and I'm dieting; no, absolutely no BJs for me. Granny decided she'd stay around her home and go yardsaling in Nashville. MamaCilla, my best friend, had said she would go to the yardsale with me, but forgot as the date drew near, and made other plans. But would I please look out for a crib in good condition for her new grandson?

It's okay. I didn't mind going alone.

Ariel called me at work Friday night and said that she had picked up her wedding gown at David's Bridal that afternoon and would be bringing it up the next day. Keeping it away from Eric's prying eyes. She and Belle would leave Murfreesboro about 7:00, which would put them in Pleasant View around 8:00. Great, I told her, just call me when you get here and I'll tell you where to find me. Now, THIS would be fun. The forecast called for a beautiful, sunny day, with a high temperature in the mid 80's. We would scour each sale for wedding items, for the flower pots I needed, for children's books, and for miscellaneous junk. We would go out for lunch and maybe see Earth, the new Disney Nature film. With eager expectations, I clocked out at 5:45, stopped by McDonalds for a quick breakfast, and raced home.

Fred was dressed in his painting clothes, awaiting his sausage biscuits and hashbrowns. "You're not going?" I asked. "No, I wanta get the deck finished while the weather's good." Great! Just us girls.

Yes, I'm still a girl. If you divide the world up into boys and girls, I'm still a girl.

I quickly changed clothes, hooked my fanny pack around my waist (I had to let it out a horrifying two inches! Kicking the diet into high gear NOW) and filled it with all my stuff, plus all the quarters in the loose change jar and all Fred's one dollar bills. I drove down our street slowly, eyeing everybody's odds and ends, out on display for all the world to see. Funny how we have no reticence about that. We willingly take the worst of our belongings, the hodge podge of our daily lives, and scatter it over our impeccable front lawns for the neighbors and strangers to paw through. Stuff that we've had in our homes, worn on our bodies, and are now willing to sell for mere pennies. Knowing that they know that if they don't cart the stuff away, we'll be GIVING it to Goodwill. I saw nothing I couldn't live without; I'd head on over to Town Pride, the upscale subdivision where I always found the good stuff. But...what in the world...? As I neared our house again, I noticed the open garage door of our neighbor's house; our neighbor's house which was up for sale and vacant at the moment. Why in the world was the garage door standing wide open? The most recent occupants had reneged on their agreement to buy the property, under their lease/purchase plan, and at long last had been evicted just days before. I wasn't sure if they had left the door open as revenge or mistake or perhaps had been there cleaning and just run out to the store. It worried me though; I'd best run on over to the realtor's house and report it.

As it turned out, Mr. Realtor was participating in the big yard sale, so I had a valid excuse for stopping by. We chatted for several minutes and he assured me he would run by the house very soon and make sure he left it locked up tight. Okay, FINALLY I was ready to do some shopping. I hit three houses in Town Pride and came up empty: no pots, no wedding stuff, not even any children's books. One crib, $125, with no mattress; seemed outrageously expensive to me, but it looked great; I'd keep it in mind and call MamaCilla later. I called Charming, the musician, about a snare drum in a case; he asked several questions, but decided he didn't want it. "Wait," I told him, "there's another sort of case here. Nice, big, hard case, maybe for a keyboard or something, four latches, shaped sorta like a half circle. It's well padded on the inside and has two strappy things, like for holding down a guitar neck or something." It was a curious case, but he determined its' purpose after only a few seconds: "Mom, I think it's for a bow and arrow." Oh. That explained the embossed mural of the deer and elk on the cover. "Thanks anyway," he said. I had the distinct impression he was rolling his eyes and laughing on the other end of the line.

At one house, I found some old tins from food products of long ago, lard and potato chips. I called Fred's friend, the antique collector, who thought the four cans were well worth the $6 price tag. "Go ahead and get 'em and I'll pay you back," he instructed. Into my trunk they went. The Suzy Homemaker kitchen toys from the 60's, the pint-sized oven, refrigerator, cupboard, washer and dryer, were calling my name, but, even though I stared longingly at them for several minutes, I resisted. Fred had been in fine, generous spirit lately, and I wasn't gonna do anything to push his benevolence. Suzy Homemaker could have very effectively pushed him right back into Tightwadville.

Fred called in crisis: he was running dangerously low on spray paint; would I please stop by Van's and pick up five cans? Sure, I told him, I'll be home in a few hours. No, he said, he needed the paint NOW. Oh, alright. I left Town Pride and drove on to Van's, where Van himself sold me the paint with Charming's employee discount, even though Charming hasn't worked there in over two years.

Van is a treasure. Pleasant View is lucky to have him.

Somebody had set up a yardsale in the parking lot of the pharmacy, adjacent to Van's. Oh, I'm RIGHT here, I might as well just take a peek, I thought. They had a terrific looking crib with a mattress for $100. I took pictures with my cell phone and tried to figure out how to send them to MamaCilla. They went somewhere, but she never got them. I imagine they're still floating around somewhere in cyberspace.

Incidentally, these were the first pictures I'd ever intentionally taken with my phone camera; the only ones I'd taken heretofore revealed nothing more than darkness, as they were all pictures of the inside of my pocket.

And no, I have no idea how to text. But, I do know how to set the alarm for a fifteen minute nap before I clock in at night.

I wonder if you can get any kind of government assistance for being technologically disadvantaged?

Oh, look, HG Hills was having a one day only sale. I remembered scanning the sale paper earlier in the week and seeing some good buys. It would only take a minute... I got all (5) of the 48 ounce bottles of Wesson Oil they had, at $2 each, chicken breasts for $1 a pound, Hunts Ketchup for seventy nine cents each, (had a coupon on that - they ended up costing me only twenty nine cents each!) and bananas at thirty nine cents a pound. Nice little haul.

Finally, I made my slow way back home, carefully navigating the narrow roads, forced by parked cars and pedestrians into one lane in most places. I delivered Fred's paint, put the groceries away, and waited about ten minutes for Ariel and Belle. They both came in the house carrying David's Bridal bags - Ariel with the dress and Belle with all the accoutrements. It's all hanging in Ariel's old closet now. Opening that closet is like lifting the lid on a time capsule of Ariel's life: in addition to all the new baby clothes I store, it also houses Ariel's old baby and little girl dresses I just couldn't bear to toss, her graduation cap and gown, and now the wedding dress and veil. I've found myself several times just standing in front of the open closet, feeling pleasantly sad and nostalgic for the irretrievable days of her childhood. (Confession: I borrowed and slightly paraphrased that line from Ira Levin. It's one of my favorites, along with Margaret Mitchell's "{Ashley} had never known such gallantry as the gallantry of Scarlett O’Hara going forth to conquer the world in her mother’s velvet curtains and the tail feathers of a rooster." Now, THAT'S good writing.)

It was almost 9:00 by the time Ariel, Belle, and I finally set out to yardsale in earnest. Ariel came prepared: she handed out handy canvas totes to each of us. We started on Church Street, parking at one end and walking through front yards to the other. (Ariel: "I wish I could whistle for my car and it'd come down here and pick us up.") The girls each found a few books, and I got a set of photo coasters, but I was bitterly disappointed with the lack of quality merchandise, and feeling quite guilty that I had encouraged them to make the long drive here for such a lackluster event. I half-heartedly browsed through a rack of women's clothing, hung on a shower rod between two ladders. Ten dollars for THIS? Seven for THAT? Appalling prices! Why, the last yardsale we had held...what...two years ago, maybe?...I had priced all clothing items at a quarter, and after lunchtime, had announced 'buy one, get FIVE free.' One lady had bought practically all of my plus-size clothes; wish I had them back, now. A word of advice: don't ever get rid of your fat clothes. I pawed through a stack of VHS tapes: Titanic, Top Gun, Sleepless in Seattle, Beethoven and all its' sequels, the Jesus tape I always find. Some well meaning Christian group had placed a copy of this tape on every Pleasant View citizen's porch several years ago. Like most that I have spotted in yardsales, this one had never been removed from its' cellophane wrapper, the words Complimentary - Not For Sale clearly visible on the front cover. And right next to those words, a neon pink twenty-five cent sticker. Tsk, tsk. Ooohh, there's a corn mug! I hurried toward it. Six dollars?! Was it Shawnee? Nope, Made in China was stamped on the bottom. You may get SOME sucker, I thought, but I KNOW my corn stuff.

Hmmm...there was a...no...I'm actually not sure what that was.

At last, there was a box of books! Shoot, they were all romance novels. Not interested. Another box down the street a ways. Mostly do-it-yourself magazines and a couple of books on knitting and crocheting. Where were all the children's books, I wondered aloud. A nearby lady told us she had just come from Harris Farms, a fairly new subdivision, where she had found lots of children's and adult books. Okay, thank you, we told her, we'd check it out. More stuff, a $100 red and yellow Coca Cola child's pedal car, a huge ceramic cookie jar, styled to resemble a fifties diner, cassette tapes and record albums, the obligatory assortment of coffee cups and bud vases. Nothing that interested me at all. I did, however, find a great crib. Bassett, solid oak, Shaker-style, with the mattress, sheet, bed skirt, and nursery rhymes bumper pad for $65. I called MamaCilla, explained to her that I was completely inept when it came to sending photos, but gave a good description. "Get it," she said. Done. I came back later in Fred's pick-up truck to retrieve it.

The morning was already hot, pollen was thick in the air, and my body responded with red watering eyes, sniffly nose, swollen throat, and red blotchy swollen skin. We made our way back up to where I thought we had parked. "Isn't that your car?" I asked, when Ariel passed by a silver vehicle. "No, Mom, we're a little farther on," she said indulgently. At the next makeshift parking lot, I questioned her again. "Is THAT your car?" Ariel chuckled audibly. "No, Mom, just a little farther." By the time we had finally made it back to her car, my poor swollen feet were screaming for release from the Reeboks in which they had been imprisoned for fourteen hours. What in the world had I been thinking, going yardsaling, after standing on concrete all night long? What in the world had I been thinking, traipsing off in the pollen-laden outdoors, without my allergy pill? What in the world had I been thinking, filling this fanny pack with all these heavy quarters? I was exhausted and the heat was making me so sleepy... "Y'all are gonna hafta drop me off at home," I said. "I'm gonna hafta get a little nap."

So much for my yardsaling.

After a couple of hours, during which I slept maybe twenty minutes, they had returned, with plenty of good finds. Belle, who is contemplating opening a used book store, bought 100 good quality books for only seventeen dollars. Darn. I sure missed out. We all piled into my car now and drove down to the Pleasant Dragon for lunch. Fred, of course, declined our invitation. Chinese? Yuck. He'd stay there, finish the painting, and eat a meatloaf sandwich. 'Village.' "We ate off the meager buffet and laughed at our fortunes, (I'm going to be wealthy,) then we gave Belle the 'scenic' drive through Pleasant View. We pointed out the grocery store, Van's Hardware, city hall (a small metal warehouse out in the middle of nowhere,) our one traffic light, the medical center, which houses the town's only elevator, and made a circle through the still-under-construction. "It's creepy," Ariel told Belle. "It is not creepy," I defended it, "it's charming." "Creepy, Stepford-ish creepy," Ariel maintained. Dear Belle was diplomatic: she conceded that it was charming, but being unfinished and set in the middle of nowhere (seems to be a recurring theme in Pleasant View,) it did exude a small creepiness factor.

We made one more stop, at the Coach House, where it seemed several families had united in the parking lot with their sale items. On my way to check out a guitar for Fred, ($450; no thank you,) I passed a full length mirror, leaning back on the open tailgate of a pickup truck. I was horrified at my image - how much weight had I gained? I decided right then and there that I was going to have to step on the dreaded scales this week; I'd put it off way too long. Of course, the only reason I don't step on them regularly is that THEY LIE. Deceitful, spiteful little white metal square, I detest the way it can't immediately make up its' mind - up a pound or two, no, down a pound or two, no up a pound or two...ah, there it is, up THREE pounds. Wretched little liar.

I finally found something for the wedding, two sets of clear Christmas lights on white wire. Got them for the bargain price of fifty cents; we'd use them, along with three strands I had stored with my Christmas stuff, draped icicle style, behind the tablecloths on the buffet and bar tables.

I was simply astounded that I had found no pots or plant containers of any sort.

Belle had to be home by 4:30, so the movie was out. We came back home, where I showed them the plain white folding fans I'd finally located on "Oriental Trading's website, $6 a dozen, as well as the lilac drawstring bags for the birdseed. This is also where I had found the bride and groom toilet paper. "Look, how 'bout this wedding bell trash can cover?" I asked Ariel. "No, I don't think we need anything like that," she said. "But it's only $3.29," I pointed out. "And it'll sure look a whole lot better than just a plain black trash can." She repeated that we didn't need the stretchy white cover. Uh, Ariel? Guess what? I ordered it anyway. You can thank me later.

I'm not holding my breath.

We ordered the personalized M&Ms (thank you, Andrew!) after going several rounds about the design. "Just take a look at the Disney ones," I implored Ariel. She rolled her eyes. "Look, they've got Cinderella and the Prince dancing in silhouette..." "No, Mom," "...or this one, with the wedding bells..." "No," "...or this one, Happily ever After..." "No, just our names on one and the date on the other." Shoot. If I ever renew my vows, I'm gonna get me some of those Disney M&Ms.

Ariel presented me a gift: a framed photo of herself and Eric. She showed me the invitations, which have small embossed 'frames' on the fronts; small wallet-sizes of this photo will be perfect for the invitations. The photos are good. Eric has a tendency to look "goofy" - Ariel's word, not mine - but these photos show no signs of goofiness whatsoever.

Ariel and Goofy. Those Disney M&Ms would have been perfect.

I refrained from hugging the girls goodbye, as I was beginning to feel that my extreme fatigue and other symptoms could be indicitive of something more than allergies. I took a four hour nap and awoke feeling worse. By the next day, my throat was sore enough that I wanted nothing but ice cream, (although I did manage to force down a large popcorn at the movies,) and I had developed chills and a low-grade fever. I called the annoying automated service for the Post Office to report that I would be taking sick leave. "What is the begin date of your leave?" the pleasant female voice questioned me. I gave it, then, "What is the end date of your leave? If you don't know, say 'I don't know.'" "I don't know," I obediently repeated. "I'm sorry," the voice said, "I THINK you said yes; if this is not correct, say 'go back.' "Go back." The voice repeated the question, I repeated "I don't know," and once again, the voice thought I said, 'yes.' I had to croak out my reply four times, before I finally just wised up and gave the voice some sorta date. How could I possibly know how long I would be sick? Stupid voice.

Fred says I have the new swine flu. I'm sure I don't, but I DID look up the symptoms online. Fever, cough, sore throat, headache, body aches, chills, extreme fatigue...yep, got 'em all. Why can't I get something that includes loss of appetite?

And why did it have to strike on the day of the yardsale?

Just wait til next year.

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

2009-04-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

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

Ariel's Wedding, Part V, Counting Pennies

2009-04-21T14:01:00.001-07:00

The dress was bought. The bridesmaid was chosen and had bought her dress. The caterer and menu were chosen and Ariel had finalized the details of the cakes. (Three square tiers, in varying shades of purple. And let us not forget the Ninja Turtle cake.) We had the date, the time, and the place of the wedding and the reception. The reception site was booked and paid, and we would use a variety of methods to ensure good weather for the back yard ceremony: hope and prayer, of course, but we would also keep our fingers crossed, hunker down in the grass in search of four-leaf clovers, pick up all the pennies we could find lying about and throw them into a wishing well, hang a horseshoe on a tree, wish upon falling stars and break apart chicken wishbones, and do an anti-rain dance. I did a Google search for good luck and found several lucky animals: I may import a few ladybugs, but I absolutely refuse to have pigs, tortoises, tigers, red bats, and elephants roaming the back yard during the ceremony. But if any of my guests see a rabbit hopping around on three feet...

No, no, of course I wouldn't really do that to my cute little bunnies.

But I think I know where I can BUY a lucky rabbit's foot cheap.

And if all that fails, we'll move the living and dining room furniture into the bedroom and have the ceremony indoors.

I stopped by Kroger on my way home from work one morning, just to get bread and chicken for supper. JUST BREAD AND CHICKEN. Got in there and remembered we were almost out of Tide and Bounce. Back to the front of the store for a buggy, where I glanced at the sale paper and saw that the fancy gourmet cat food Spooky likes was on sale. Decided I might as well stock up. Oooh, I had a coupon for $1.00 off, if I bought twelve cans. Twelve cans times eighty cents per can...yikes, that was $9.60...minus the dollar coupon...$8.60. OUCH. Oh, well, she loves the stuff. Loves? Actually, she's HOOKED on the stuff. Into the buggy went the twelve cans of turkey and greens in a savory broth, whitefish fillets in a delicate sauce, and plenty of tuna varieties in various sauces. I passed by the floral department and realized I had a coupon for a free bunch of alstroemeria that would expire soon. Picked a bunch of pink ones and grabbed a couple of packets of flower food. Hmmm...what kind of new wedding magazines did they have? Southern Bride had a feature on a bright, colorful wedding; might be some useful ideas in that. I glanced at the price and vowed that would be the very last wedding magazine I ever purchased. (Yeah, we'll see how THAT goes.) Oh, bananas, I needed bananas. And strawberries were on sale, too. I'd make some homemade shortcakes; did I have enough butter? I wasn't sure, so I went by dairy and got a pound of butter. Oh, yeah, we were almost out of buttermilk, and I wasn't sure when I had last checked the date on that white milk carton, shoved way in the back corner of the refrigerator. Into the buggy went the milk. And, if I was gonna make shortcakes, I'd need Cool Whip, too.

Going to Kroger can be hazardous to your health. And wallet.

Now for the point of this whole little saga: as I went by the paper goods aisle, I noticed that the strong clear plastic cups and cutlery we needed for the reception were on sale. And much cheaper than the ones at Party One Superstore. I had conceded a few days prior to this that, given the level of informality Ariel and Eric both insisted upon, real china and silver would regrettably be inappropriate; the NICE clear plastic stuff would actually be perfectly in keeping with the casual theme. I consulted with them, and bought 120 small cups, 200 large cups, 75 each of the spoons and knives, and 125 forks. Also a few really nice looking serving pieces that were on clearance sale for ninety cents a set. I'll probably use my good silver serving pieces in the chafing dishes at the wedding, but those plastic disposables will come in handy somewhere.

Forty minutes and $72 later, I pulled out of Kroger's parking lot. Without the chicken.

I'm getting old.

But, at least I saved quite a bit of money on the cups and silver...uh...plasticware. The plates, though, I haven't yet purchased. Party One sells a pack of forty 10" plates for $15 and eighty 7" plates for $10. I found the same brand on Amazon: the 10" plates were cheaper, the 7" more expensive. AND sold in different size packs. Go figure. I decided to wait til we're a little closer and have an exact head count. Ariel decided on thick black napkins; we'll wrap each set of cutlery in a napkin and tie it with a lavender bow.

It has just this moment occurred to me that we'll need several sets of salt and pepper shakers. Oh, I can hear Fred already: "You've got TONS of salt and pepper sets; go look on the top shelves of those cabinets!" To which I'll say, "Oh yeah? Which ones should we use? All those corn-themed ones? Or the Christmas sets? Or how 'bout Mayberry or Lucy or the Wizard of Oz? Or maybe the Sesame Street ones, or Jeannie and her bottle?"

Maybe I won't say that, after all. He's liable to actually pick some of those to use.

Ariel had a grand idea: she found and bought an adorable rubber stamp with a bride and groom stick figure couple, and a purple ink pad. "We can stamp the bottom side of each plate," she explained. "The bride and groom will show through; it's like the plates'll be personalized!" I liked it. The bride and groom stick couple became a theme: she would make her own guest book, using stick figures, and each guest would write a clever little something in one of those cartoon 'bubbles.' Ariel, the first grade teacher, is a master at arts and crafts. She also found, in one of the wedding magazines I had bought last year, bride and groom stick figures TOILET PAPER. "Now, THAT'S something people will remember about a wedding!" she laughed. I checked online and found that Oriental Trading seemed to be the cheapest place to get that toilet paper, and I wouldn't really call it cheap: $2.99 per roll, but, thank goodness, I found a code for $10 off the order. Oriental Trading also had brightly colored fans, but they weren't that pretty style that we wanted. Now that purple had emerged as the main color for the wedding, I had an inspiration: "How about the plain white fans that we saw at Michael's, with some of that lavender organza ribbon tied at the handle?" Yes! She finally liked one of my ideas! I found fifty of the white fans at Amazon.com for $39.95; with shipping, they would be 96 cents each. Michael's packages of 18 ran $20, $22 with tax, but if we used their frequent 40% off coupons, we could get them for just 77 cents each. We had a winner!

Wendy, Prince Eric's mom, relayed that she'd REALLY like to have a few professional photos. She even volunteered to pay for the photographer. "No," I told Ariel, "I'm not gonna let her pay for that. I'd like to have some nice pictures, too." It seemed such a shame to exclude that important element, especially since we'd spent Fred's entire original budget on the gown. AND since Eric had now decided that he'd wear a tuxedo! (Fred: "I am NOT wearing a tuxedo!" Ariel assured him it wasn't necessary; she wanted Eric to stand out. Boy, will he: I don't think I've ever even seen Eric in a suit.) So, it was settled: we'd hire a photographer, IF we could find a good one who was willing to do it inexpensively. We both did extensive searches, and Ariel made a great find: Once Like a Spark Photography, out of Georgia, did fabulous work, was willing to travel here for free, and would charge only $500 for a two hour session. That would give us getting-ready-for-the-wedding snapshots, as well as the ceremony itself, and some family photos afterwards. The photographer told Ariel we could negotiate for a lengthier package later, if desired. As of now, the plan is to go with white disposable cameras on each table for the reception photos. SURELY we can get a FEW good shots out of some of those. AND, I'll have my digital camera, as well as my $1000 worth of Minolta equipment that I haven't used in years.

Digital is just so easy. And cheap.

Wendy sent a check for half the photographer's fee. And Fred's not actually aware yet that I'm paying the other half. I'll let y'all know later how that one goes over.

"Did y'all know that in many states almost ANYONE can be sworn in to perform a wedding ceremony?" I read aloud to Ariel and Eric. "That's one way we could get your PopPop to come: ask him to do the service," I suggested. Ariel was suddenly enchanted by the thought of her retired newspaper editor grandfather conducting the ceremony. We went online and did a Google search: judges, justices of the peace, preachers, priests, rabbis, mayors, county clerks, county executives, tribal chiefs: no PopPops. "We could ask Governor Bredesen to do it," I wryly suggested. "Yeah, I'm sure he'll drop whatever he's doing and come right on over," Ariel replied. We did uncover some interesting facts, though. Did you know that in Tennessee, a judge cannot perform a wedding ceremony if he's been convicted of a felony? HUH? Did you know that the license cannot be issued if one or both parties appear to be drunk or an imbecile? Or that both parties must be present for the ceremony, unless one of them is incarcerated? (In that case, the remaining party may marry with a notarized statement; probably makes for a curious ring exchange and first kiss.) Are you aware that in Tennessee, if the couple receives four hours of marriage counseling, the license fee is only $35? But if either the counselor or county feels that they've 'failed' the session, they can still get married - except now it'll cost them $95. And did you know that Tennessee law forbids same sex marriage, but condones marriage between first cousins?

Well, THAT explains a lot.

I'd...better not get into that.

After much frustration, Eric finally found a court clerk who was willing to travel to Clarksville and perform the ceremony in the middle of the week. For $125.

The bubbles, I worried; those little bubble vials held soapy water; would bubbles that burst on Ariel's gown make tiny little soap spots? Eric put his two cents in: he'd rather have bird seed than bubbles. Perfect. I've got plenty of birdseed left over from winter. I found that Oriental Trading carries a wide variety of small sacks, at very reasonable prices. My good white eyelet tablecloth can go on the round patio table, and we'll outfit it with a casual floral arrangement, the white fans with lavender ribbons, and the tiny sacks of birdseed.

I cut a coupon out of the Sunday paper for 10% off an entire order of personalized M&M's. I LOVE those things! My sister-in-law presented me with the first ones I'd ever seen a couple of years ago at my CornFest. It was such a surprising and generous gift, and she did a great job on them: she had them colored to resemble corn kernels - yellow and orange, and personalized them with 'CornFest 07.' I still have an unopened bag down in the basement with all the other CornFest stuff; wonder how long M&M's will keep, anyway? Did you know that you can even put a PHOTO on an M&M?! Yes, it's true! Photos, logos, text. And oh my goodness, I'm in trouble now: they even have DISNEY M&M's! There's one that says 'Believe in Magic,' and another with Tinkerbell's face...

I need to stay away from the M&M's website.

We decided we'd get four bags of the personalized M&M's, and supplement them, if necessary, with plain M&M's. I bought two big bags of pastel colored ones at Kroger, marked down after Easter, WITH a coupon. Total cost: $2.00. I was so proud of myself. Looked at them yesterday and realized they all have bunnies, lambs, and baby chicks on them. Darn. Guess I'll just have to open 'em up and eat 'em.

And I just noticed tonight that my 10% off coupon for the personalized M&M's has expired. I guess I'd better get on the ball and order that stuff from Oriental Trading before THAT one expires.

OOOOHHHHH...I'm having so much FUN!

Next: Fred Gets Involved!

Ariel's Wedding, Part IV, Making the Most of Spring Break

2009-04-14T05:41:00.000-07:00

$1,032. One THOUSAND thirty two dollars. Everybody Fred talked to on the phone for the next week heard about that $1,032 wedding dress and about how he was going broke paying for this wedding. And we had only just begun.

Fred and I met Ariel and Belle on Monday at Calypso Cafe, near downtown Nashville, for lunch and a taste test. It's a tiny little establishment, within walking distance of Nashville's faithful replica of the Parthenon, and perfectly reflects my preconceived image: very artsy, almost bohemian, and crowded with lots of college kids and a fair sprinkling of hurried business folk. Our waiter brought us a platter with a sampling of their sides, and we each ordered a different entree: salads for the girls, rotisserie chicken for me, and a burger and fries for Fred. (That should come as no surprise whatsoever to any of you who've grown to know us. Fred almost always get a hamburger, and I almost always get chicken. Honestly, I think I could go vegetarian...if they'd reclassify chicken as a vegetable.) The food was good for the most part; the St. Lucian rice and the spiced sweet potatoes with coconut were terrific, but the Martinique Callaloo, mustard greens cooked with tomatoes and onions, was WEIRD. Just plain weird, I'm telling you. Maybe that's the way they eat their greens in the Caribbean, but I'm a good ole Southern girl, and here in the South, we eat our greens with plenty of pot likker flavored with pork neck bones, and we soak up that pot likker with wedges of buttermilk cornbread, not the coconut cornbread muffins they have at Calypso. But, all in all, pretty good. And the price is definitely right.

Ariel already had an idea of what she wanted to serve at the reception, and the taste test confirmed the menu with very little change: rotisserie chicken, tossed salad, cole slaw, black beans, the St. Lucian rice, those weird mustard greens, the delicious sweet potatoes, and the coconut cornbread muffins.

We're Southerners. We eat.

"Honey, this is just good generic cole slaw," I told her. "We can pick up two or three big tubs of it somewhere else and save a lot of money. And I can make a huge salad for a little bit of nuthin' with a few of those big containers of salad greens from Sam's." "Okay," Ariel agreed, "but I think we should stick with Calypso for the other sides." "Sure," I said, nodding, "but the chicken; we can get rotisserie chickens a lot cheaper than this at Sam's." She considered it quickly, then reasoned that we should let Calypso handle the chicken - no time for running across town to Sam's and cutting up hot chickens at the last minute. Of course, I said, she was absolutely right. And we discovered that Calypso would also supply plates and cutlery! What kind...? I wondered. Turned out it was Chinet paper plates and white plastic cutlery. No thanks, not for a wedding. We'd supply our own. Ditto for the chafing dishes: I have one of my own, and I could borrow several more from my best friend.

We left Nashville and headed for Clarksville. Our first stop was Party One Superstore, where I had bought some great clear plastic plates three years ago for Charming's senior recital reception. They were strong, sturdy, nice looking, and reasonably priced. We agreed that we needed the ten inch plates for dinner and seven inch for dessert. Said Fred: "I thought Calypso Cafe was supplying the plates." "They're Chinet," I said briefly, feeling that was enough of an explanation. "So?" he asked, "What's wrong with Chinet?" I would try later to impress on him the importance of something with just a tad bit more class. "Whad'ya think of these forks?" I asked Ariel, showing her some clear heavy duty plastic. "Ummm...yeah, those are fine," she said, and I scribbled down the price, sure that I could beat it at Kroger. Belle called from farther down the aisle, where she had found some looks-like-silver plastic cutlery. It amazingly really does look like real silverware. This gave me an idea... Hmmm... Wonder what the price of renting real silver would be? Party One has a wedding rental service, everything from linens to china and silver to arches and even tuxedos. The friendly manager dropped what he was doing and talked with us extensively. Linens? He could get us the round and banquet tablecloths in white or black for $12 each, but ivory would be $18. Cutlery and china...? No, Ariel and Fred both said; we don't want to be washing dishes halfway into the morning. Oh, alriiiiight, I conceded. (I'll work on that later.) I noted prices of everything in the folder I had brought along. What a great idea, to take my handy dandy folder along everywhere we went, keeping track of all possibilities and expenditures and making numerous notations any time I had a brainstorm. Alas, that folder has gone by the wayside: I somehow just couldn't buoy enough enthusiasm for that plain seventeen-cent black folder; it has since been replaced by one of those fancy Wilton wedding planner albums, with tabbed dividers and helpful hints and preprinted pages for notes and a sweet blue satin ribbon to bind the whole business together. It's perfect; so perfect, in fact, that I hate to mess it up with my sloppy scrawl and the little nonsensical doodles that are the hallmark of my idea pages. So what did I do? I pried open the steel rings that hold the thing together and added pages of notebook paper to each section. That way I can keep my abstract notes and ideas in the notebook, but off the flawless preprinted pages. I stored all my brochures in the pockets for each corresponding section, where they now fall to the side and sometimes to the floor every time I open it. There are zippered clear plastic pouches in the back section, in which I keep all the receipts and contracts, but not enough of those pouches. And it's far too big and cumbersome to lug around with us to all these places of business. My assessment of the wedding planner album? Pert near a total waste of money.

On to Walmart, Michael's, and Hobby Lobby, where we checked out and noted prices of aisle runners, bubbles, favor holders, favors, tulle, and ribbon. We had previously discussed personalized M&M's for favors; yes, these tulle circlets, tied with curled ribbon, will be great for them. Walmart's price was about a third of Oriental Trading's, so we went ahead and got the circlets. The organza ribbon, in all colors of the rainbow, was on half-price sale at Hobby Lobby. Ariel and Belle found a gorgeous shade of lavender, (Belle: "I like purple; I can get a dress in purple.") and we bought plenty of wide (for casual curling on the buffet tables) and thin (for tying those tulle circlets.) Michael's had the folding paper hand fans that Ariel wanted for the outdoor ceremony, but only in white and sandalwood: she wanted bright colored ones, like the ones I had purchased from Oriental Trading several years ago for CornFest. "I haven't been able to find any just like that," I told her. "Oriental Trading doesn't carry this style in the bright colors anymore, and the one place I did find them was WAY too expensive." I'd keep looking.

I was relieved to find that none of the tiaras in any of those stores, though much less expensive than the one we had already bought at David's Bridal, could match its' simple beauty.

Now, a curious thing happened during this little outing: Fred grew quieter and actually began to get involved. "Ethel," he'd call to me, "come look at this." The first time he requested my presence, down at the end of the ribbon aisle, I turned and gave Ariel and Belle a wide-eyed "whaaaaaat?" look, before joining him. By the end of the day, I was accustomed to his open minded inquisitiveness, and he had some genuinely good concepts. In spite of one little setback, where I awoke one day to find a new strict budget scrawled across the back of the phone bill, he has continued to show support for the whole wedding project, and has even come up with some ideas of his own THAT ARE GOING TO COST ADDITIONAL MONEY. Dear ole Fred.

We drove down Wilma Rudolph Boulevard to the office for the Cumberland Room, where we signed the contract, got copies for Ariel and myself, and paid the $492 ($450 for the rental, plus Tennessee's ridiculously high sales tax,) as well as the $500 damage deposit. Woo-hoo!...that's $2000 on my credit card in two days...I'm racking up those points toward my Disneyworld vacation! I expected a phone call from the credit card company later that day. They're really good about keeping an eye out for unusual expenditures on personal accounts.

Now all we had time to do was go to the nearby park that Fred and I had previously found. Fairgrounds Park, on the bank of the Cumberland River, and only four miles from the aptly named Cumberland Room. Of course, the trees were still bare, and the grass was only faintly green, but by July, everything would be in full, delightful, HOT summer glory. We scouted several sites, and Ariel and Belle walked along the river bank a ways. We took pictures, noted that the shelters all had picnic tables bolted to the concrete floors, and observed all the joggers, ballplayers, and unsupervised children running about. Hmmm...maybe, just maybe, Ariel said, our backyard would work, after all. For the ceremony only. Fred was absolutely tickled, of course. If she had the ceremony in the backyard, he promised, he'd rent that fancy white wrought iron heart-shaped arch from Hobby Lobby AND spring for the greenery and ribbon adornments. Oh my goodness. That's $50. And he WANTED to do it. What had happened to my penny-pinching old goat? I guessed that his daughter's happiness was infectious, and that's what really mattered, after all.

Ariel and Belle stopped by our house and we walked the backyard, looking at it from a totally new perspective. This grove of trees, right here, would be perfect for the ceremony. Fred walked it off and found that we would need every inch of that 120 foot long runner from Walmart. I looked up from my position under the trees toward the deck and saw for a moment my daughter, in her new white David's Bridal wedding gown, opening the French doors, stepping out onto the deck, its' white rails draped with tulle and flowers. She paused for a just a moment, then stepped carefully down the staircase, taking Fred's outstretched arm at the last step, and began walking toward me, smiling, glowing. "This grill, though," Ariel questioned, breaking me from my reverie, "what are we gonna do about this?" It's a heavy black cast iron grill that Fred had paid a friend to build shortly after we moved into the house; it's way too far from the back door to be useful, and a hive of wasps claimed it as their home years ago. Unfortunately, it's sunk deep into the ground in a foot of concrete. "Well," I mused, "I guess we could just get rid of it; we hardly ever use it; we always use the gas grill on the deck." Fred set up an immediate protest. We were NOT getting rid of his grill, he said. It was a great grill, he said. He didn't know why we didn't use it more often, he said. We could throw a sheet over it, if we wanted to, but we were NOT getting rid of that grill. "Don't worry, we'll disguise it somehow," I promised Ariel.

Fred was anxious for Ariel to hear some of the musical selections he had been pouring over for the reception. The Chicken Dance, yes that was great. The Hokey Pokey would be fun. Tea For Two was cute. Cotton-Eyed Joe and the Hootchie Kootchie Dance were good, but Ariel didn't care much for Elton John's Dixie Lily. He played snippets of songs I'd never heard, and a fair sprinkling of some I knew. Fred continues to add to the list, and Ariel made her own list on Facebook. She decided Daughters, by John Mayer, would be the perfect father/daughter dance tune. She couldn't have made a better choice: it's one of Fred's favorite songs.

Fred is trying harder to avoid his dance than I did at Charming's wedding. "Wonder if she'd want me to play Daughters on my guitar?" he asked me. "How can you play it AND dance it?" I questioned. Nice try.

Would she like him to call The Pianist, Fred asked Ariel. The Pianist is a former college buddy of Charming's and had played at his wedding. He is highly sought after and has won all kinds of prestigious awards and honors. Sure, Ariel said, that'd be fine, or we could just have a guitar player for the ceremony. Fred called The Pianist, who said no problem, he'd do it. His payment? A meal of my steak and biscuits. Well, for Heaven's sake. OF COURSE, I'll fix him some steak and biscuits; I'll serve them for lunch and send him a couple of dozen home in a freezer chest.

Now, if we could pay for everything associated with the wedding in a like manner, we'd be able to stick by Fred's budget.

It was back to work for me the next night, so our shopping together time was over. Ariel and Belle continued to shop and plan; I continued to plan and browse online; Fred made out that new budget and implored me to stick by it. I glanced at his list -$100 for decorations? Does that include the arch?...no, look, here's the arch down here, he said...and the runner?...no, right here's the runner...and the favors?...yes, of course, that includes the favors...and the flowers?...well, of course, he said; don't tell me you're gonna spend a HUNDRED dollars on flowers. Oh, Lord.

I also saw no mention on there of the plates, cups, cutlery, napkins, soft drinks and tea, appetizers at the ceremony, cake, and tips that we will invariably have to pay.

Belle found a long dress in shades of purple and bought it. Ariel says it's perfect. They found some polka-dotted ballet flats for the bride.

It's okay; they won't show under the dress.

I emailed Ariel so many pictures of incredible wedding cakes; cute cakes, funky cakes, simple cakes, and funny cakes. Nothing traditional; Ariel appreciates a traditionally beautiful cake, but it's just not her style. Thankfully, neither was her style the Hostess Twinkie, Cupcake, and Snowball wedding cake: simply a pile of those cheap treats, removed from their cellophane wrappers, stuck together with God-knows-what, and topped by...was that Elvis and Priscilla? Oh, my.

Wedding cake designers have taken the art to new levels: did you know that you can get a life-sized cake that looks exactly like the bride? I'm not kidding. Or a life-sized COW? Who in the world would want a life-sized COW cake? I checked the website for Michelle Sugar Art Cakes, the company that made that thing, and yep, it was made for a wedding.

I...am totally at a loss for words here.

Ariel found a reasonable facsimile of the cake she envisioned on the Publix website. It's nontraditional, alright, but FUN! The current plan calls for three tiers, square and round, with polka dots, stripes, and some little swirlies. (She pointed out to me that her biggest challenge may be keeping it colorful, while resisting any Suess-ish appearance.) It has a few brightly colored flowers scattered here and there and will be topped by a bride and groom CAT couple. No, you didn't misread that - CAT couple. Like I said, nontraditional.

And, of course, the cake is a little over the budgeted amount. Ariel's budgeted amount, that is. Fred didn't even include the cake in his budget.

There were still so many decisions to be made, so many items to be purchased, so many fine points to examine. We had made a good start, but it was far from over.

Next: Counting Pennies

Ariel's Wedding, Part III, Busting the Budget with the Wedding Gown

2009-04-13T19:49:00.001-07:00

Spring break has always been an eagerly anticipated time in my family. When Ariel and Charming were in school, it meant a week of sleeping in and lazing about; no rigid schedule to follow; Disneyworld! I loved having them home with me on my days off: it was an abbreviated preview of the good times to follow, come summer vacation. We went shopping, and to movies, and out to eat: places like Olive Garden and Fazoli's and Buddy's Chop House and other restaurants where Fred would NEVER go, because (A) they were "too expensive" and (B) they "didn't have nuthin' good to eat." Yes, there was a time when we really couldn't afford places like that, but after I began working for the post office, I realized that we could afford nicer places than the Krystal and Dairy Queen. It was a LOOOONG time, though, before Fred came to that realization. One day, Fred actually FORBADE us going to Buddy's Chop House. Buddy's was WAY too expensive, he said. There was no need for us to spend that much money, he said. And besides, Buddy's didn't have nuthin' good to eat. "Do NOT go to Buddy's," he commanded. I was silent. "Do NOT go to Buddy's," he repeated. "I mean it: do NOT go to Buddy's." He walked out the door, secure in the assumption that I would heed his imperial order; I closed the door behind him, looked at Ariel and Charming, and said, "Put your shoes on; we're goin' to Buddy's."

Fred has since come to realize that the king is not the only one on the throne with Power: think queen bee, black widow spider, praying mantis. Now, THOSE ladies know how to handle their men.

During spring break this year, Ariel and I had bigger plans than Buddy's. We needed to shop for wedding favors and decorations, pick out invitations and the cake, do a taste test at Calypso Cafe, look into the flowers and linen rentals, make the final decision on the reception site, and most importantly, shop for the wedding gown.

Fred called Ariel and told her he didn't want to influence her: she was to choose the site she really wanted; it was her wedding, after all; the Cumberland Room wasn't that much more expensive than the Pleasant View Wedding Chapel, anyway. She and Eric mulled it over for a few days, and ultimately decided to go with the Cumberland Room: it was bigger, had that game room, that magnificent kitchen, the PA system and DJ booth, and it had both round and banquet tables, whereas the Wedding Chapel had only banquet tables. Fred called Lady Owner and told her no thanks, but he and I might consider her place for our summer Corn Fest. It really would be great for that party, except that my kitchen at home is so much better...if only we could combine the kitchen at the Cumberland Room with the grounds at the Wedding Chapel...

Ariel and I made plans: we would shop together on my days off, Sunday and Monday. (My ACTUAL days off are Monday and Tuesday, but working nights puts a whole different perspective on everything, including the days of the week.) "Sunday AND Monday?" Fred said. "Why in the world do you think it's gonna take TWO days to do that stuff?" "Well, we've got a lot of places to go," I told him. "We've gotta go to Walmart..." "You know what Walmart's got," Fred interrupted. "...and Calypso Cafe..." "Ariel already knows what she wants from there, and I ain't gonna like it. I don't see no need o' goin' there." "...and it's gonna take AT LEAST a full day to shop for the dress..." "A FULL DAY?! To get ONE dress?! No. You go in, you try on a couple of dresses, you pick one, and you're done! That is NOT gonna take all day!"

Good grief.

We decided we'd meet on Sunday at noon at David's Bridal. If Ariel couldn't find anything she liked there, we'd go to a couple of other, more exclusive shops. Fred: "I don't see why we need to go with her to get a dress, anyway. Looks like she'd know what she wants." I fixed him with a steely eye, and told him I was her mother, and I was going with her, and that was that. But if HE didn't want to go, he was perfectly welcome to stay home.

Do you even have to ask? Of course, he went. Far be it that we should make a decision without the benefit of his expertise.

I so looked forward to shopping for the gown. This was to be truly a once-in-a-lifetime event for me. Ariel is my only daughter, and I never got to shop for a wedding dress of my own: my 'gown' was an unbleached muslin summer peasant dress that I bought at KMart for $14.95. It was pretty...for a summer dress. But shopping for a real wedding gown...! Ariel and I hadn't been clothes shopping together in such a long time. Little girls willingly wear the frilly outfits their mothers choose for them, but there comes a time when those little girls become big girls and want to wear oversized t shirts and jeans with holes at the knees, and all those pink lacy dresses get shoved to the back of the closet, where they collect dust across their little puffed shoulders, and their full skirts cultivate permanent wrinkles. I knew that I was living vicariously through Ariel when I was dressing her in her younger, more pliable years: I'd always been what you might call a 'girly girl;' I loved pastel colors and lace and full skirts and bows and frills galore; but, alas, I was also a 'chubby girl,' and it was drilled into me at an early age that chubby little girls don't wear frills and light colors and full skirts. No, chubby little girls must wear dark blues and browns and black, and straight skirts, and must be free of extravagant ornamentation. I remember like it was yesterday the shopping trip forty-some-odd years ago for new dresses for my uncle's wedding. Mama took my sister and me into the city, where I picked out a pink and white fluffy concoction with puffed sleeves and white lacy caps, a wide white sash encircling the waist and tied in a huge bow at the back, and infinitesimal tucks, making the skirt as full as one of Scarlett O'Hara's ballgowns. I wanted that dress, that dress and a full petticoat, and the matching pink patent leather purse and white lace gloves. What I got was a dark blue severely tailored two piece suit, with a plain old white slip, no purse, and plain white cotton gloves. My sister, Free Spirit, who was never bound by 'rules for chubby girls,' got the same outfit; I don't remember whether she actually liked it, or just had to wear whatever would also be acceptable on her chubby sister. Free Spirit, if you hated that outfit as much as I did, I apologize.

So this trip to David's Bridal was eagerly anticipated. As we pulled into the parking lot, we both spied Ariel crossing to enter the store. And a second later, we both realized it wasn't Ariel, but, my goodness, didn't that girl look like her, I asked Fred. When we entered the shop, there was Ariel, sitting at the reception desk, already deeply immersed in the David's Bridal book of gowns, and there was that look alike stranger sitting next to her. It was almost eerie: same size, same haircut, identical sunglasses on top of their heads, even almost identical clothing. Turned out this stranger was Belle, Ariel's best friend, who was to be the lone bridesmaid. I immediately took to her: not only was she my daughter's confidante, she was also Southern through and through, and spoke with a familiar drawl that I knew must drive Ariel crazy, as my own Southern accent does. Everywhere we went for the next two days, people thought Belle was my 'other' daughter.

Ariel was assigned a bridal consultant, and we all trooped over to a dressing area, while the consultant fetched the gowns. She brought an armload, some that Ariel had marked in the book and a couple that the consultant thought might be good, as well. I liked this shop. I know that David's Bridal is Big Business, and some of the bridal books do not recommend them at all, but dadgumit, I liked it. The salon is spacious as all get out, and mirrored just everywhere you look, and has roomy dressing and waiting areas and generous round pedestals for the bride to stand on while her family and friends admire her from every angle. It probably gets crazy busy sometimes, but this seemed to be a slow, relaxed day, and the consultant successfully conveyed the impression that her only goal in life was to find the perfect gown for my daughter. We later learned that she was new, and that Ariel had, in fact, been her very first bride; if she's as caring with all her brides as she was with Ariel, she's got one heck of a career ahead of her. She helped Ariel into the special undergarments that one must wear under a wedding dress and had her try on the first gown, which was...less than impressive. Pretty gown, yes, but just so very not-Ariel. The skirt was bustled all over; I think those bustles are called 'pick-ups' in bridal lingo: just way too fru fru for Ariel. Out of that one and into the next. And the next. And the next. Some were beautiful; some were nice, but not her style; none were hideous. I was thinking about a tiara..." Ariel said. The consultant brought over a sparkling coronet of tiny crystals and placed it on her head. Perfect. No, no veil, Ariel said to my question. "Try one on, just for me," I urged her. Ohhh...! She was radiant! We all, INCLUDING the reluctant Ariel, loved the effect with the veil. Yes, the veil was a must-have.

We walked around the store, looking at other gowns. "Why don't you try this one?" I asked her, pointing out an exquisite Oleg Cassini creation.It had a heavily beaded bodice and full ballgown skirt, with layers upon layers of tulle. Ariel simply rolled her eyes. Okay, so she's not the fairytale type bride; but this dress would have been MY choice, if I were shopping for my own gown. I wanted to take it over to where Fred sat morosely by the dressing room door, but I couldn't even lift the heavy thing off the rack. Good thing, I guess: I stole a glimpse at the price tag: $1,050. Yikes.

Ariel picked out another gown, and then wandered over with Belle to look at bridesmaid dresses. "I'll wear anything except orange," Belle generously told us. She tried on dresses in burgundy, pale lime green, and one in what she called 'puke' green. I noted that her brown socks put an exquisite finishing touch to that one.

Ariel emerged from the dressing room once again. This was IT. This was the gown. It had the little off-the-shoulder sleeves that she wanted, a sweetheart neckline, an asymmetrical skirt, and enough beadwork and crystals to satisfy me. It was perfect. She stood on the pedestal, then walked the length of the store, stunning cloned Ariels walking along with her in the floor to ceiling mirrors. Even Fred rose from the chair where he had sat dejectedly for so long, and told her how beautiful she was. "How much is it?" he asked. It was on sale for $350. Fred realized that we were going to have to help her pay for this, as it was over the $200 she had budgeted for her gown. Ariel thought that maybe she could cut the price somewhat in other ways: she tried the dress without the fancy longline bridal bra. No good; we'd hafta have that bra. She didn't like the way the slip felt underneath, but the skirt and the train flowed so much better with the slip; we needed the slip. Fred: "I don't like it with that skirt." "Slip," I corrected him, "and it needs it." The tiara...was there a cheaper one? We looked at several, but the one Ariel had been wearing for hours really was perfect. I knew that we could get a cheaper one at Walmart, but I also knew it wouldn't be this pretty... "We'll just go ahead and get this one," I said. Was there a less expensive veil? Yes, there was, but this one was ideal, with these tiny crystals sprinkled here and there... The others were just so...plain. This was a once-in-a-lifetime affair, I reasoned: "Get the veil," I said. But the shoes, now that was one place we could save a few bucks. The David's Bridal shoes were stunning, but Ariel wanted something comfy and non-traditional on her feet; we were both thinking of the lace-covered tennis shoes that Steve Martin's daughter had worn in Father of the Bride. Ariel would get some funky little slippers somewhere else.

The seamstress appeared like magic and hustled Ariel into her alterations room in the back of the shop. The sleeves would have to be taken up just a bit, and a couple of tucks in the neckline would make it fit perfectly. The hem seemed to be fine, thank goodness, and she'd just sew a few bustles into the back, to keep the train from dragging the floor after the ceremony. Every time she marked that dress, Fred heard a little cash register: ka-ching, ka-ching. "Can't she just hold it up while she's dancing?" he asked. "No, the train's too long," I said. "I don't think we need that skirt," he tried again. "Slip," I said patiently, "and we DO need it."

Well, I guess it could have been worse. We bought a David's Bridal gown instead of the fabulous Oleg Cassini, and the gown was on sale, too. We got a 10% discount on the accessories. Ariel was buying her shoes at a plain old shoe store somewhere, so that would certainly save some money. I put the $1,032 on my credit card; Ariel would pay me back when the bill came in, I told Fred, but I want those reward points on my card. "That's fine, that's fine," he said, "but just how much is she gonna pay? Coz we've already gone way over $1500. Is she gonna pay half? I think she should pay at least half. Is she gonna pay half?"

Oh, Fred.

Wedding gown shopping had taken the better part of the day. We would meet again the next day at Calypso Cafe for lunch and our taste-testing. There was still SO much to do...

Next: Making the Most of Spring Break

Ariel's Wedding, Part II, Looking for a Wedding Site

2009-04-05T23:09:00.001-07:00

When I was a dreamy eyed little girl, planning my wedding to my faceless nameless prince, I gave little thought to WHERE that wedding would take place. It was beautiful, always beautiful, with me gracefully picking my way down a rose strewn aisle in my sparkling fairytale white gown, cathedral length train and veil trailing me, and my attendants lovely, but considerate enough to leave the bridal glowing to me. The details of the PLACE, however, were...fuzzy. White and gauzy and filled with ribbon and flowers. LOTS of flowers. But...was it a church? Or a cathedral? Or a little country chapel? Hmmm...I'm not actually sure. Maybe it was on a beach; no, I'm sure I pictured myself descending a wide, sweeping staircase, something in line with the staircase at Ashley Wilkes' Twelve Oaks. Perhaps in a mansion somewhere... Or a castle. Like Cinderella's castle. Well, as I said, the details were fuzzy. Maybe that's because it's nigh on impossible to find the perfect wedding site.

Now, I'm sure that if one has unlimited funds, finding a venue is not that difficult. But, on the budget laid down by Fred, it is one doozy of a challenge.

Our plan was to find a site that had a nice scenic outdoor area for the wedding ceremony and a more comfortable, AIR-CONDITIONED interior for the reception. After all, this wedding was to take place in late July. Fred, wedding consultant extraordinaire, immediately had the plan: the wedding would be in our backyard, and the reception would be at the Coach House, a newish event center just a mile or so away. We had been to a live country music show there last year, and I knew it to be very nice, but also very traditionally decorated, if Spartan, and not at all to Ariel's taste. I described it to her and she pretty much ignored Fred's suggestion. But I had an idea: there had been an ad running for several weeks in our local newspaper, a new wedding chapel which was unbelievably inexpensive, right here in Pleasant View. Fred glimpsed at the ad, then did a second take: that $299 price tag was shouting his name. Oh yes, forget about the Coach House, he said, here's where we need to have the wedding; nothing would do but that Ariel call about it. Nobody answered.

In the meantime, Eric reported that, even with employee pricing, the wedding at his hotel would be outrageous. Ditto for other hotels, which all had varying stringent requirements regarding in-house catering and alcohol purchases. Churches and chapels were out - the type of 'spirit' Ariel and Eric had in mind would probably be frowned upon in a house of worship. Ariel checked into several historic mansions and other possible sites: bed and breakfast inns, country clubs, golf clubs, an old historic village, even the Moose Lodge. She thought she had found the perfect place in the Vine, an event venue/dance studio/art center. She e-mailed pictures to me, and it looked great. Alas, the alcohol fee proved too expensive. I searched online and made phone calls. $1500 includes tables and chairs at this one, but no outside caterers; $3000 includes linens and china here, but no alcohol allowed; $10,000 will get you the whole enchilada here, but, sorry, we're booked for that week. That's okay: Fred would drop dead if we booked a place for $10,000. "What's wrong with our backyard?" he asked again. One more time, we went over the whole too-hot-and-we'd-have-to-rent-a-tent-in-case-of-rain thing. Not to mention that we wouldn't want inebriated wedding partiers celebrating on our suburban lawn late into the night.

At last, a great place presented itself: The Cumberland Room, a brand new event center in Clarksville. But...Clarksville? Clarksville is convenient for Fred and me, but is over eighty miles from Murfreesboro, and Eric could work out a discount on rooms for all the out-of-town guests at his hotel in Murfreesboro. No, no, Ariel assured me, he can get that discount at almost ANY of their numerous properties, including quite a few in Clarksville. The Cumberland Room looked great in the online photos, would allow outside catering, outside alcohol, had plenty of onsite parking, was available for all day rental, and the best part - was only $450 for the entire day. Wow. Of course, now, that was a weekday; weekends were still out of our budget, Ariel said, but she was fine with a weekday wedding. She arranged for a meeting and look-see, and we all drove up after school one day.

The torrential rains which had been falling all day turned to snow in Clarksville, and Mrs. Manager called to cancel, citing the slick roads; but Ariel, already almost there, has mastered the art of tactful assertiveness and arranged a self-guided tour. She could sure give me a lesson or two.

The Cumberland Room really is a great value, as wedding venues run. It's sorta Plain Jane on the outside, not bad, just nothing memorable. But inside is a whole nuther story. The front doors open into a large, high ceilinged reception room with the most hideous carpet; Eric pointed out that it was so busy, it'd hide most any stain. The next room is the huge stone floored ballroom, complete with a disco ball, DJ station and equipment, nice sound system, and rotating colored lights. All the chandeliers and wall sconces are uber contemporary and on dimmer switches. A game room houses two pool tables, an air hockey table, fun neon lights, and television. The kitchen is AMAZING. Over 700 square feet, as big as my sister-in-law's entire house, with miles of counter space, plenty of ovens, range top, deep stainless sink, ice machine, rolling cart, some piece of equipment I could not identify, and the island to beat all islands. That kitchen sold the place for me. The 'landscaped courtyard' is a bit of a let-down, though: really just a concrete patio with a high privacy wall, lanterns, hum-drum picnic tables, and a few tiny evergreens with Christmas lights. But the kitchen...oh, yeah...that kitchen makes up for everything. And the tables and chairs are included in the $450 rental fee.

Fred forgot we had a backyard as soon as he saw those pool tables and the PA system.

Ariel called Mrs. Manager on the spot and told her we wanted it. We'd need to come to the office during business hours to secure the reservation and sign the contract. I told Ariel that Fred and I would do that on Monday. The only problem with this place was that courtyard; it just wasn't the idyllic outdoor setting Ariel had envisioned for the ceremony. How about a park? There should be a nearby park that would have trees and flowers and scenic vistas. We could have the short ceremony there and then move everybody to the Cumberland Room for the reception. It was too dark and snowy to start looking then, but the following day, Ariel and I did some online research and came up with a few possibilities. The plan was for Fred and me to go to the Cumberland Room's office on Monday morning, sign the contract, then scout out those parks for good sites. But come Monday, Fred had other ideas. That Pleasant View Wedding Chapel just sounded so good...(note: good = cheap.) Ariel said no, she had made up her mind about the Cumberland Room.

Fred, never one to be easily discouraged, called the Pleasant View Wedding Chapel anyway, and arranged a tour for the two of us that morning.

Pleasant View Wedding Chapel. Can't you just see it? A quaint white wooden country church, tucked away in the woods, with a small steeple, wide double doors with rose wreaths, symmetrical arched stained glass windows, tulle draped railings on the diminutive porch, and a lovely little white gazebo sitting smack dab in the middle of a picket fence surrounded rose garden.

That's the image I had. WRONG! The 'chapel' is at the end of a dead end road, set back in the woods a bit, but is nothing more than a large concrete block structure with a wooden two story addition tacked on one end. It has a huge covered porch that wraps around the left side and a large gazebo out back, but is neighbored by a metal warehouse of some sort and a day care center. Out back, in view of the gazebo, is the big ugly propane tank that supplies heating fuel for the building. I took one look and said,"Oh, Ariel's not even gonna consider this." Fred nodded; he didn't need to say anything - I could see the disappointment in his eyes. However, he had arranged for a tour, and we were obligated to wait for the owner. While we waited, I walked around. You know, I told him, this porch IS nice, and it's got these arches and all these little globe lights... if we could get rid of this conglomeration of furniture and maybe dress up those pews and the arches, and hide that big ole Gatorade barrel... and that gazebo's not picture perfect, but it's not bad, and it's BIG...why, with a bit of tulle and ribbons and maybe some flowers... And I bet these woods are really pretty in the summer, with everything all leafed out... The owner pulled up, apologized for her tardiness, (she wasn't; we were just early,) and led us inside. What a surprise! This place was great! No, it wasn't as big as the Cumberland Room, but it was still quite roomy and had a great tiled floor. There was a fine groom's suite and she told us the bridal suite upstairs was still under construction, but would include a jacuzzi tub! The bathrooms are FABULOUS, absolutely FABULOUS. Turns out these people own a flooring business, and they really do know what they're doing. Lady Owner showed us photos of a wedding from last summer - the gazebo and porch were decorated, the four acres was covered in wildflowers, and the big room inside was filled with long banquet tables, included in the price. Tablecloths and heavy damask chair covers are included, too. And the rental period is longer than the Cumberland Room's: we would have until 8:00 the next morning to clean up. The kitchen, though, is on the small side; but that really didn't matter, since the meal would be catered, and I'd only be doing appetizers and salad. Fred, who can talk the hind leg off a donkey, had met his match in Lady Owner: we learned her entire life history in the half hour we were there. She made no apologies for her loquacity, and I found myself liking her. I wandered around while she and Fred chatted, took loads of pictures, and e-mailed them to Ariel.

Spring break was coming up and Ariel and I wanted to get so many things settled during that short week. She and Eric would make a decision about the wedding site any day now...

Next: Busting the Budget with the Wedding Gown

Ariel's Wedding, Part I, Planning a Super Low Budget Wedding

2009-03-31T17:50:00.000-07:00

Well, Fred has finally gotten used to the fact that his little girl is getting married. He has sought no more appeals for delaying the wedding by a year or more, has abandoned the notion of a go-to-the-justice-of-the-peace wedding, and has even surrendered himself to the fact that Ariel is not marrying a rich doctor. But he sure is having trouble adjusting to the reality that this wedding is gonna cost him over a thousand dollars.

Immediately after Ariel had announced her engagement, she and I began making wedding plans. Ariel has long had very simple ideas about her wedding. She loved her cousin's simple mountaintop ceremony and pot luck reception a couple of years ago in New Hampshire. It was stunningly beautiful, held at the Rocks Estate, a natural reserve and Christmas Tree farm, with the couple taking their vows against a backdrop of the surrounding White Mountains. The banquet tables, inside a big barn-like structure, were lush with the bounty of family and friends. A live bluegrass band provided music well into the night, and a serve yourself drink station was set up in a small wood-shingled outbuilding. Mason jars and borrowed vases in all shapes and sizes held flowers from roadsides and the backyards of friends. The bride and her mother baked the wedding cakes themselves, and Ariel and I decorated them with fresh flowers and strawberries. And, uh, the topper: a wooden mannequin, dressed in a Cinderella blue sparkling gown and tiara, and a Transformer. Yeah, you read that right: a Transformer. The mannequin bride towered over her Transformer groom, an amusing paradox, given that the actual bride is such a tiny, fragile thing: she probably wears about a size ZERO.

Don't cha just HATE that? A ZERO. Life is so unfair.

Well, neither Ariel nor I are a size zero, and I am definitely on a big-time diet. I have no intention of going through that whole 'Extra Firm Control' girdle debacle again. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

We decided that we needed a meeting, in order to set some parameters and toss around ideas. The six of us, Fred and I, Ariel and Eric, and Prince Charming and Cinderella, met for lunch one day about a month ago. Fred was on guard from the get-go. "Who's gonna pay for this lunch?" he asked me.

See what I'm up against?

We ran over some ideas for the date, the place, the food, and the decorations. Ariel is so organized: she already had a notebook full of ideas and an estimated guest list of about sixty people, and had printed out a catering menu from Calypso Cafe. She outlined the foods she'd like to serve, and the estimate came to $722. I thought that was a great price, but Fred looked at it as 3/4 of his entire budget. Ariel knew she wanted a simple white or ivory gown, probably no more than $200, she said, quickly adding that she intended on paying for that herself. For the cake, she wanted Publix to bake a very non-traditional three layered affair; we were probably looking at another $200 for that and the groom's cake: Eric had given Ariel creative control of the wedding, but he had to have a Ninja Turtle cake.

What is it with men and Transformers and Ninja Turtles?

"Now, I don't intend for you guys to spend any money on the dress or the rings or the liquor, since you don't drink at all," Ariel said. Whew. I knew that would be a relief to Fred. "And, I figure we can get some alstroemeria and daisies and a few other cheap flowers from Kroger and Walmart and make our own bouquets and centerpieces," she added. Cinderella volunteered that she had plenty of the very chic glass block vases she had bought for her reception; Ariel was free to borrow them. She also had plenty of tulle, her toasting goblets, and maybe some more stuff...she'd check with her mother. "What are you thinking about for your colors?" I asked. "Multi colors! Bright colors!" Ariel said enthusiastically. Bright, multi colors for a wedding? O..kay... maybe it would work. Sure, that wedding on the mountaintop had bright multi colors. But that had been wildflowers. Hmmm... I wasn't quite picturing this yet.

"And how many attendants will you have?" I wanted to know. She wasn't sure; one, or maybe none, she said. No attendants? No bridesmaids? How about a flower girl or two? Her little second cousins would be divine in ankle length pastel billowing gowns, strewing rose petals ahead of the path for the bride. "No, I don't think we should have children," Ariel pronounced.

Oh no, not again! How was I going to explain another no-children wedding to our families? I urged her to think it over. She had valid reasons: she teaches first grade, and knows the children in her class so much better than her own little second and third cousins; if she were to have children, she'd want her class to be included, which would mean their parents would be included, which, in turn, would mean more people, ergo more money... And she really didn't want them to see their very responsible teacher drinking a bit and dancing and cutting loose. Oh, I GUESS I could see that... And, we really didn't want children around where there was going to be drinking, anyway, did we? Oh, I GUESS not,...but wasn't there SOME way we could include...? I left it like that. After all, it's Ariel's wedding, not mine. I'd just have to build up my nerve to tell our family members that their little darlings would have to stay home with a sitter.

"And, we don't have to hire a professional photographer," Ariel was saying, "We'll just have some disposable cameras on each table and I'm sure we'll get some great pictures that way." I knew that would make Fred happy, but a few professional shots would have been so nice...

Eric was hopeful that he would be able to snag a great deal on a ballroom for the ceremony and reception at the upscale hotel where he worked. They had already looked into having the entire affair at a park, but alcohol presented a problem, and you always had to consider rain... "I thought you were gonna have it in our backyard," Fred interjected. Ariel explained about the cost of renting a tent, in case of that rain. I confirmed that a tent would be way over our budget, and there was just no way we could have a sit down dinner for sixty people in our living and dining rooms. Thank goodness, Fred didn't even mention utilizing the basement. (He HAD suggested that as overflow seating for Charming's rehearsal dinner - our concrete block walled, concrete floored, open-to-the-garage-and-water-heater basement. That's my Fred.)

How about the date? Already the wedding had gone from late summer to fall to Memorial Day weekend to early July. Now it had changed to late July. Ariel would be in grad school by then, but would be between teaching semesters. Eric's brother, in Pennsylvania, had already asked what the weather would be like in Tennessee in late July. Eric had told him, in a word: HOT.

We discussed a few other details: favors, drinks, china (china = nice plastic disposables) and linens, (Fred: CHINA and LINENS?!) and invitations. Ariel was certain she could get nice invitations at Walmart and print them herself.

Major details hashed out, Ariel did some quick figuring and came up with a figure just over $1500. I didn't dare look at Fred. He wasn't saying A WORD. "I ain't payin' no thousand dollars" had just grown to over $1500. It was on the way home that he SHOCKED me, SHOCKED ME, I say, by conceding that $1500 didn't sound too bad. Whoa. Was that really Fred? MY Fred?

Little did he know that was only the beginning.

Next: Finding a reception site.

Ariel's Surprise

2009-03-31T17:36:00.000-07:00

Fred and I received a surprise visit from Ariel yesterday. She calls every other day or so, usually on her way home from work, but we don't get to see her that often. She's busy, we're busy, we live more than an hour from each other...I actually hadn't seen her since her brother's wedding almost six weeks ago. Wow, has it really been six weeks? Yes, it has. I've been in a fog since that night; empty nest syndrome is real and debilitating. But yesterday was good for me. In spite of the groundhog's dire prediction of six more wintry weeks, we reached 70 degrees for the second time in a few days. I forced myself away from the computer long enough to go to HG Hills for pork cutlets and turnip greens, did three loads of laundry, stripped beds, dusted and Windexed, got the greens washed and cooking with some pork neck bones, and then retreated into the basement, where I began an attempt to create order out of the Christmas chaos Fred had left for me. What a mess! I tried to start with the ornaments, but quickly realized I first needed to get the large pieces out of the way. Trees in boxes: done. Large Santas and snowmen stowed inside JC Penney and Disney Store bags: done. Snowglobes back in styrofoam protected original containers: done. Hallmark animated snowmen and various stuffed gingerbread men, penguins, Santas and Mrs. Clauses, and red-scarved kitties and ducks (yes, ducks) in large Rubbermaid totes: done. I was working on this last when Ariel called, suggesting she might come over for the evening. "What's up?" I immediately said. "Oh, nothing, really," she replied. "Eric's working late and all my friends are busy, and I haven't seen you guys in a while, so I just thought it'd be a good time to visit." (Note: Ariel uses phrases like 'you guys,' instead of her native 'y'all;' she refuses to associate herself with the likes of Southern hicks and has even taken on an accent that can best be described as 'American Proper Generic:' definitely American, but indistinguishable as to discern any particular area of the country.) "Great!" I told her. Fred was just getting home, and we were both thrilled with the promise of her imminent visit. "We'll have to go out somewhere for supper, though," I told Fred. "I'm cooking turnip greens and neck bones and pork cutlets; I'll have to put that back and we'll have it tomorrow." (Ariel is a strict vegetarian.) Fred was immediately outraged: "Don't you have anything else you can fix? We need to be saving money; I wanta pay off this house." This has become Fred's mantra: I wanta pay off this house. Years ago, when I started paying extra every month on the mortgage, he thought it a wasted effort; now, he looks at our balance and sees it as something we will be able to pay off possibly this year. And, of course, NOW it was HIS idea all along to send in extra on the payment every month.

Fred.

I quickly assured him dinner would cost us nothing. I had two gift cards to Chili's, and I knew Ariel loved Chili's. Fred and I had never been. You may recall that Fred is not one who appreciates anything remotely resembling fine dining - fine dining being a category above Golden Corral - and he and I have clashed more than once over his...thriftiness. These Chili's gift cards had been given to me for my birthday, months ago, and this would be the perfect opportunity to use them. I reached a stopping point in the basement and got cleaned up and dressed just before Ariel arrived.

We made conversation for a few minutes about her first grade class; she had posted a comment on her Facebook page about one of her cute little girls, and I wanted further details. Facebook is something I have just gotten into, and I am already regretting it: another addictive website. Ariel thinks it kinda creepy that her mom is one of her Facebook Friends. She had also posted a 'status report' about the UNFORGETTABLE Sunday she had spent at the zoo. "What made your zoo day so unforgettable?" I asked, casually. "Well," she said, "the weather was perfect. We went backwards, ending with the elephants, instead of starting with them. And when we got to the elephants, [The elephants are Ariel's favorites,] Eric kinda pulled me away, because there were a LOT of kids around, and he held out his hand, and this was in it." She held out her own hand, and there it was: an engagement ring! A white gold, quarter carat, sparkling, diamond engagement ring! "OHMYGOD!" I said, giving her a quick hug and kiss. "OHMYGOD!! Details, details!" She proceeded to tell me about how the zoo had been the place of their first date, and how romantic it had been for Eric to take her back there for the proposal; about how Eric had apparently been making more money than she had thought; about how he had been paying on this ring since November; (He went to Jareds!); about how she didn't want me to find out on Facebook, thus the impromptu visit.

Fred, in the meantime, had grown very uncharacteristically quiet.

I asked Ariel about wedding details. Nothing yet. Well, we have to start planning soon, I told her. She had previously talked about something very casual: maybe backyard, or beach, absolutely nothing overblown; her entire wedding and reception probably wouldn't cost $2000. Which is a good thing, because Fred is...thrifty, remember? I recall about three or four years ago, when Fred and I had attended the wedding of a friend of Charming and Ariel who had become like one of our own children; as we had waited in the church for the ceremony to begin, he had complained about the formality of the whole event, and I had told him that we would be facing this with our own children in the not-too-distant future; he had better get used to it. "They just need to go to the justice of the peace; they don't need anything like this," he had said. I had told him that Ariel, in particular, would WANT a real wedding, and it would be our responsibility, as the parents of the bride, to pay for it. "I ain't payin' no thousand dollars for a weddin'!" Fred had exclaimed.

A thousand dollars? Poor, poor Fred. He just has no idea...

We discussed a few possibilities. Outdoors would be Ariel's preference, but tents, in case of rain, were so expensive. She had thought about a park, but Eric and his family would want an open bar, and she wasn't sure about alcohol in a public park. Uh, oh, I thought, open bar? That sounds expensive. Flowers? Of course, LOTS of flowers; she talked about an idea she had seen on a wedding tv show for hot pink rose arrangements. Summer was so hot; maybe fall would be good. But there's a good chance of rain in the fall. And she would like to have Calypso Cafe cater the reception. Catering? I stole a glance at Fred. He was not looking happy. The first words he spoke in several minutes were, "You don't need to get married this year; I wanta pay off this house." He then proceeded to give her the spiel about going to the justice of the peace. "Don't you need to go shower and get dressed to go out to eat?" I asked him pseudo-sweetly.

Chili's was good, but I filled up on the chips and salsa and had to bring almost all of my steak and potatoes home. Fred tried a different strategy once there: didn't she think, since she was doomed to a teacher's salary forever, that she needed to marry a rich man? Like maybe that nice doctor she had seen at the Minute Clinic last week? "I met him for five minutes; I thought he was nice and knowledgeable," she told him. "I don't want to MARRY him." "Well, there are plenty more doctors out there," Fred tried. "It's generally considered courteous to marry the man who gave you the ring," I told Fred, with a look that said shut-up-and-let-her-have-this-moment. He refused to heed my implied warning. "It's not that I don't like Eric - I do," he said. "But, dud'n it just make more sense that if you're gonna put up with a man, you put up with one who makes a lot of money?" I had to remind Fred that if I had thought along those lines years ago, he and I would have never married.

Fortunately, we got Fred started in a different direction: doctor talk led to House talk. House is Fred's favorite tv show. Ariel recommended it to us a couple of years ago; she told Fred that Dr. House reminded her of him. After viewing it a couple of times and LOVING it, he asked her why she thought House was so much like him - was it because he's so smart? No. Was it because he's always right? No. Was it because he has a good sense of humor? Not exactly. Well, what was it? Hmmm...she somehow just couldn't QUITE put her finger on it. He apparently was satisfied with his own presumptions. Now, he never misses an episode of House, and, if he can work House into a conversation, well, you can just forget about whatever else you were talking about, coz it's gonna be ALL HOUSE from that point on.

So, we rode home, halfway listening to Fred talk about his favorite episodes of House. Ariel had to leave as soon as we got home; she had a drive of more than an hour to get back to her house, and school the next day. I told her again how happy I was for her, and Fred told her again that she needed to think about a rich doctor.

Fred.

Congratulations, my darling daughter.