My Mother-in-Law just told me not to scrimp on food, and a cousin told me it's better to have assigned seating. Planning a wedding is like being pregnant, anyone and everyone feels it's perfectly OK to touch your belly and ask you personal questions or give you their advice. Everyone wants to help you; making gift bags, or making the chuppa. I even got my sister into the act. She just sent me a drawing of the tree in her courtyard on the Upper East side of Manhattan. She is an artist, a beautiful artist who now does mostly needlepoint. If you are getting a gift from my sister, chances are it's a needlepoint pillow. Every single piece of stuffed furniture in my house is graced by one or more of her pillows. But back to the black and white tree. My plan is to put the names of the couple's ancestors on either side of the tree, and fashion it into a fan with the wedding program on the other side. Great, right? People can try and figure out what side of the tree they fell from while they wait for the ceremony to begin.
It can be overwhelming at times, all this help. But it's important to remember that it's offered with the best of intentions. For instance, my dear cousin's son-in-law is a caterer. He's really a great chef and had his own restaurant for a while. He has a winning personality and lives just an hour away. My husband said we should consider this relative/chef; after all, he's a member of the family. Even the bride was interested. But then again, she wanted a soup place in town to cater the wedding because they use local ingredients. Whenever I'd mention this to anyone, they'd try to hide their displeasure. "Oh, the soup place caters, really...." I even spoke with the soup-nazi himself, and he said to call him when it gets closer to the wedding and we could talk. So that was the end of that. The gallery uses Harvest Moon, and I first thought dinner would be in the gallery, remember? But ooops. It is the first home football game, and a holiday weekend and sorry, but they are already booked. I was keeping our relative in my pocket, but I didn't want to hire him simply because I wanted him to enjoy the wedding, and if anything went wrong.....well, I didn't want to jeopardize our family's friendship. I can only hope he understands. So I got serious about food, and I called three vendors.
The first faxed me a menu that read like a party I'd been to twenty years ago. She was out. The second was extremely tall and only slightly intimidating. We met over little bon bons with her assistant taking notes. She told me they were all inclusive, and was the first to give me pause about feeding everyone on a terrace. "I'm not saying it couldn't be done...," that was the line that added another line to my forehead. And no, botox wasn't an option. She showed me a menu she had designed for a similar wedding at the same place. I learned about little lamb chops, and she told me we'd need 150 cupcakes if we were having 120 people since they would be different flavors. Smart! Her company has rave reviews and I really liked her by the time I left, and felt I'd be in good hands. Then I didn't hear from her again. The third caterer was the charm. It was the wife of the chef of a beautiful small restaurant by the train tracks. We met before lunch service, after she'd dropped her children at the sitter. I first heard of them on NPR, nobody else knew that they catered. They are very into local, sustainable farms, and organic everything and as it turns out, they are close to the university hospital. My husband has eaten there many times, for business, and I made him take me to "L'etoile" for our anniversary. The shrimp and grits were divine.
Menu:
Traditional French cheese plate (to include reblochon because she loves it and our dog Buddha does too)
Grilled asparagus and carrots
Apple chutney over baked brie
Grilled beef fillet
Artisan breads
Salad L'etoile
Shrimp and Grits
Fall garden vegetarian plate
Apple cider donuts
and at the rooftop terrace:
Caramel crepes
Carter mountain apple bourbon bread pudding
Maple sugar candies
Anita Gupta's cupcakes (all 150 to include lavender for the bride, carrot cake for the groom and a combo of Bailey's Irish Cream and Guinness stout chocolate to represent their dogs' names).
Can you tell the bride spent a semester in Paris? Did you know she was born in the Berkshire Mountains and always loved those maple candies? Can you smell the down home southern country style cooking? Do you think it's enough? I was thinking maybe some chicken?
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A ticket to fun
Just got an email from Home Away, http://www.homeaway.com/. This happens to be a great site that lists homes and villas for rent all over the world. Listen up, all you honeymooners out there! Based on our previous travel info, and the time we, the Big Chill group, rented a Thanksgiving week house in Key West from them, I now receive periodic prompts to fuel my sense of wanderlust. "My ticket to Fourth of July fun," it read. So, first I must explain this Big Chill group; four couples we crashed onto the first tier of the wedding invitation list, even though they are not actually family but just as well might be. And then I'll proceed to explain why the word "fun" and the "Fourth" would never coexist in my world.
My husband and I met in high school, freshman year. His family migrated to NJ from the garment district in Brooklyn and mine came from the coal fields of Scranton, PA. It was friends at once and love by junior year; he was Nathan Detroit to my Adelaide. We did all the school plays and musical comedies; our little preppy clique was like Glee meets Revenge of the Nerds. Along with Nathan and Adelaide came: 1) Nicely Nicely (also known as Where in the World is Lyle); 2) Lt Brannigan, a sweetheart of a guy, we made a pact that if we weren't married by 40, we'd marry each other; 3) Rusty Charlie, my Junior Prom date, cause my cool future husband wasn't "into" proms; and then there is 4) the Hot Box MC, the guy who's big Italian family was adopted by my husband's mother (my MIL). All of these guys went to Woodstock together after high school. Not me.
We had broken up in college, besides I doubt I'd be allowed to go to Woodstock, period. I was living in Westchester County, and only married Nathan 31 years ago, after the very same MIL found me in town one day and physically brought me to him. "Here," she said, "please take him off my hands," or something like that. All the boys married southern girls, except for me - I'm the only original Yankee high school girl who happened to marry her sweetheart after 16 years! A person, could develop a cold!! Our little group, or gang, would meet every Thanksgiving for a week of frivolity. Each family was responsible for one night's meal and we all cooked on turkey day, dancing and carrying on way before the actual Big Chill movie ever premiered. After awhile, the children outnumbered the adults and we'd rent two beach houses on Holden Beach. So these kids are all pretty close, more like cousins. We are the last couple to marry off a child, and this year we welcomed our first communal grandchild! You can bet we have a blast at the Big Chill weddings. We always serenade the newlyweds.
My hubby, who if you recall happens to also be an ER doctor, always works in July. July is when all the newbie young doctors start working in the hospital; they cannot even write a prescription yet. Really. If you ever feel the need to be in an ER, try not to pick the month of July. We could never ever vacation in the summer, that would be like having no adult supervision in the hospital. This was fine with me. Because on the Fourth of July, 1949, when I was still in diapers and barely walking, my Mother was hit head on by a drunk driver outside of Wilkes Barre, PA. My Father had died a few months earlier from a brain tumor. Mother was seriously injured and hospitalized for months which is the reason I was sent to NJ to be raised by my parents' best friends, who became my foster parents. I can't remember the last time I knowingly got in a car on this holiday, not that I'm superstitious. Really, I'm not. I'm just 100% Irish and believe that luck can be a lady, or anything you make of it.
My husband and I met in high school, freshman year. His family migrated to NJ from the garment district in Brooklyn and mine came from the coal fields of Scranton, PA. It was friends at once and love by junior year; he was Nathan Detroit to my Adelaide. We did all the school plays and musical comedies; our little preppy clique was like Glee meets Revenge of the Nerds. Along with Nathan and Adelaide came: 1) Nicely Nicely (also known as Where in the World is Lyle); 2) Lt Brannigan, a sweetheart of a guy, we made a pact that if we weren't married by 40, we'd marry each other; 3) Rusty Charlie, my Junior Prom date, cause my cool future husband wasn't "into" proms; and then there is 4) the Hot Box MC, the guy who's big Italian family was adopted by my husband's mother (my MIL). All of these guys went to Woodstock together after high school. Not me.
We had broken up in college, besides I doubt I'd be allowed to go to Woodstock, period. I was living in Westchester County, and only married Nathan 31 years ago, after the very same MIL found me in town one day and physically brought me to him. "Here," she said, "please take him off my hands," or something like that. All the boys married southern girls, except for me - I'm the only original Yankee high school girl who happened to marry her sweetheart after 16 years! A person, could develop a cold!! Our little group, or gang, would meet every Thanksgiving for a week of frivolity. Each family was responsible for one night's meal and we all cooked on turkey day, dancing and carrying on way before the actual Big Chill movie ever premiered. After awhile, the children outnumbered the adults and we'd rent two beach houses on Holden Beach. So these kids are all pretty close, more like cousins. We are the last couple to marry off a child, and this year we welcomed our first communal grandchild! You can bet we have a blast at the Big Chill weddings. We always serenade the newlyweds.
My hubby, who if you recall happens to also be an ER doctor, always works in July. July is when all the newbie young doctors start working in the hospital; they cannot even write a prescription yet. Really. If you ever feel the need to be in an ER, try not to pick the month of July. We could never ever vacation in the summer, that would be like having no adult supervision in the hospital. This was fine with me. Because on the Fourth of July, 1949, when I was still in diapers and barely walking, my Mother was hit head on by a drunk driver outside of Wilkes Barre, PA. My Father had died a few months earlier from a brain tumor. Mother was seriously injured and hospitalized for months which is the reason I was sent to NJ to be raised by my parents' best friends, who became my foster parents. I can't remember the last time I knowingly got in a car on this holiday, not that I'm superstitious. Really, I'm not. I'm just 100% Irish and believe that luck can be a lady, or anything you make of it.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Back to Business
The bridal shower went very well, except for the lack of AC in the little French bistro. Ages 85 to 25 were glowing beautifully all afternoon in a heat index of 107 degrees. The bride managed to finesse a small fan at her back, and surprisingly said she liked the game! She got to give out a prize to the person with the right answer. A beautifully pink, five week old cherub, baby Emma, was dutifully passed around the tables. And as I watched three toddlers glued to a miniature TV screen in a corner, I thought about the coloring books and crayons I would tote around for my children, to keep them "busy" when dining out. This would not be the first time I'd felt grateful not to have cell phones and techno savvy toys when I was a young mother. One friend's daughter was recently bullied via text message from her classmate on another bus. I'd rather be face to face with my bully, and my children, any day!
The 565 mile trip to Nashville left my neck sore (from head banging to country music to keep myself awake) and my body ragged (from too much sodium infused restaurant fare and no exercise). Before leaving I had arranged for mini-buses to carry guests from the hotel to and from the orchard on the wedding day. This was an important feature of dinner on the mountain; we didn't want anyone driving down the mountain under the influence. I also received an estimate for the decor and flowers. I didn't want to show this estimate to the Father-of-the-Bride yet, because I wanted him to remain sane and competent while I was away at the shower. Now as anyone knows, the style of a wedding is set by the decor: down home country equals hay bales and tractors in the backyard, cowgirl boots; black-tie equals a ritzy hotel ballroom, Christian Laboutin heels etc. In between is a wide spectrum of wedding styles. We were starting out in a public place, an apple orchard, so we really have the freedom to make it into anything we want, although we are in an orchard, and we are very rustic elegant.
I started researching wedding budgets. Now I know this is a little late, since money is really an object as opposed to being "no object." Our daughter hates over the top, ostentatious weddings. She really abhors these spectacles that are more about the parents screaming opulence and going into debt just to prove that they can. The bride is already in debt. She would not allow us to pay for her medical school education and she thinks she can keep us from shelling out thousands of dollars on "One Day" by keeping track of the budget. "Along with their parents," is how the invitation is worded. The bride and groom are paying for the photographer, the honeymoon, and the invitations. The groom's parents are graciously doing a rehearsal dinner for a cast of a hundred at least. And we, the parents of the bride, will be responsible for the rest. This will include lots of extraneous things around the weekend, but mostly it will include "The Party," also known as the reception.
I went immediately to http://costofwedding.com/where I was happy to learn that if we wanted to hold this event in her hometown of Rumson, NJ, it would cost at least $20,000 more than the average cost here in the Shenandoah Valley. I put in our current zip code and out popped our range in this sleepy Southern town, between $18,584 and $30,973. Sorry for the bold face, but that's the way I copied it right off the site. And according to my oracle of all things wedding, Martha Stewart, the reception should take up to 40-50% of the budget. That means we could budget anywhere from $6,000 to $15,000 for The Party! Really?? I remember one all inclusive caterer telling me it would cost about $100 to $150 per guest, and I must admit I almost choked; at 125 guests, she was in the ball park. I was left standing out in left field. Lately I've been asking people, "Do you know how much it costs to rent a tent?" My daughter thinks we should scatter apples on the tables and call that a decoration. I'm thinking she might be right.
But lucky me, I've found a wonderful designer, a florist and event planner who is very sympatico and understands our family dynamic. She grows organic flowers on her farm and has gorgeous farm tables for the tent. Our gallery/dessert space will be transformed by her lovely banquettes and torches. Shawn Cossette, of Beehive Events /www.beehiveevents.com/ has a beautiful eye and can be my "day of" wedding planner to coordinate everything on the Big Day. Now I can exhale. Anyway, the mini-buses are in and the limo is out.
The 565 mile trip to Nashville left my neck sore (from head banging to country music to keep myself awake) and my body ragged (from too much sodium infused restaurant fare and no exercise). Before leaving I had arranged for mini-buses to carry guests from the hotel to and from the orchard on the wedding day. This was an important feature of dinner on the mountain; we didn't want anyone driving down the mountain under the influence. I also received an estimate for the decor and flowers. I didn't want to show this estimate to the Father-of-the-Bride yet, because I wanted him to remain sane and competent while I was away at the shower. Now as anyone knows, the style of a wedding is set by the decor: down home country equals hay bales and tractors in the backyard, cowgirl boots; black-tie equals a ritzy hotel ballroom, Christian Laboutin heels etc. In between is a wide spectrum of wedding styles. We were starting out in a public place, an apple orchard, so we really have the freedom to make it into anything we want, although we are in an orchard, and we are very rustic elegant.
I started researching wedding budgets. Now I know this is a little late, since money is really an object as opposed to being "no object." Our daughter hates over the top, ostentatious weddings. She really abhors these spectacles that are more about the parents screaming opulence and going into debt just to prove that they can. The bride is already in debt. She would not allow us to pay for her medical school education and she thinks she can keep us from shelling out thousands of dollars on "One Day" by keeping track of the budget. "Along with their parents," is how the invitation is worded. The bride and groom are paying for the photographer, the honeymoon, and the invitations. The groom's parents are graciously doing a rehearsal dinner for a cast of a hundred at least. And we, the parents of the bride, will be responsible for the rest. This will include lots of extraneous things around the weekend, but mostly it will include "The Party," also known as the reception.
I went immediately to
But lucky me, I've found a wonderful designer, a florist and event planner who is very sympatico and understands our family dynamic. She grows organic flowers on her farm and has gorgeous farm tables for the tent. Our gallery/dessert space will be transformed by her lovely banquettes and torches. Shawn Cossette, of Beehive Events /www.beehiveevents.com/ has a beautiful eye and can be my "day of" wedding planner to coordinate everything on the Big Day. Now I can exhale. Anyway, the mini-buses are in and the limo is out.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
On the road again
The invitations are a big success! RSVPs are rolling in, but my first job of the day is laundry. I'll be leaving tomorrow for the Bridal Shower, driving the ten hours to Nashville where I'll meet up with the Maid of Honor, and my Mother-in-Law, and the Bride's future MIL, plus another friend to host a bridal brunch at a small French bistro called Marche on the East side of town. Now, had I known that this would also be the Country Music Awards weekend, we may have chosen a different date. Remember my son's band, The Parlor Mob, is pretty pure rock and roll. Not that I don't like country music, I just don't listen to it...unless it's the Dixie Chicks. So late in the game I found some hotel rooms in Brentwood, outside of Nashvegas; because between the flood and the CMAs, there was not a room to be had in the Music City.
Now I've been pre-warned, by the Maid of Honor, that my daughter would throttle me should I try to play any games at this shower. There will no wrapping up of guests, mummy-like, in toilet paper; in other words, no fun. So I have to admit, I've been a reluctant guest at bridal and baby showers over the years. I drank the punch and munched on the sandwiches. I think of them as an archaic ritual, designed to keep us women giddy and in our place, with ridiculous looking ribbon and bow hats to boot. At worst, a shameless plea for gifts, at best, some harmless fun. But granted, these were cousins once removed, and friends' showers that were caught in a 1950's time warp. Once internet shopping happened, I became a happy shopper. I would not have to travel hundreds of miles for a shower, with the click of a button I could send a gift that the bride and groom had listed on the Knot or some other such spot, and voila. Happiness all around.
When my daughter was young, I went all out on her birthdays. She is a September baby, right after school started, so perfect timing for parties. They were always held at home, I devised games for the kids, including making a huge strawberry shortcake bean bag toss. Clowns would come to visit with balloons, or stuffed pandas. I cooked, but I bought the theme birthday cake. There would be no MacDonald birthday parties for us! Her bat mitzvah was unique, we celebrated on a boat in the shipping lanes of NY harbor. When she graduated from high school, I made all her favorite foods and we celebrated at her best friend's house (aka Maid of Honor) on the Navesink River. When she graduated from Duke, a tent went up in our backyard, and we had a clambake. I scattered lots of framed school pictures of her around the tables. People raved, they swooned. So now, of course, the pressure is on for the Bridal Shower, a prelude for The Big Day!
Strawberry mimosas will be served and flowers have been ordered for the table. This will mostly be a party for the residents who may not be able to come to the wedding because of their schedules. And right after I finish the laundry and packing, I'm going to run back up to my writing tower and devise a "How well do you know the bride and groom game." I'll ask questions like, "What type of uniform strikes fear in the bride's heart?" or "What is the groom's favorite dessert?" It will be multiple choice. I won't order the "Make your own action figure dolls" on that'smyface.com; I was thinking 2 doctors, one with long blond hair and the guy in glasses. I'll leave the toilet paper at home. I still might order some angel wings from Mother Pluckers. This bride should be counting her blessings!
Now I've been pre-warned, by the Maid of Honor, that my daughter would throttle me should I try to play any games at this shower. There will no wrapping up of guests, mummy-like, in toilet paper; in other words, no fun. So I have to admit, I've been a reluctant guest at bridal and baby showers over the years. I drank the punch and munched on the sandwiches. I think of them as an archaic ritual, designed to keep us women giddy and in our place, with ridiculous looking ribbon and bow hats to boot. At worst, a shameless plea for gifts, at best, some harmless fun. But granted, these were cousins once removed, and friends' showers that were caught in a 1950's time warp. Once internet shopping happened, I became a happy shopper. I would not have to travel hundreds of miles for a shower, with the click of a button I could send a gift that the bride and groom had listed on the Knot or some other such spot, and voila. Happiness all around.
When my daughter was young, I went all out on her birthdays. She is a September baby, right after school started, so perfect timing for parties. They were always held at home, I devised games for the kids, including making a huge strawberry shortcake bean bag toss. Clowns would come to visit with balloons, or stuffed pandas. I cooked, but I bought the theme birthday cake. There would be no MacDonald birthday parties for us! Her bat mitzvah was unique, we celebrated on a boat in the shipping lanes of NY harbor. When she graduated from high school, I made all her favorite foods and we celebrated at her best friend's house (aka Maid of Honor) on the Navesink River. When she graduated from Duke, a tent went up in our backyard, and we had a clambake. I scattered lots of framed school pictures of her around the tables. People raved, they swooned. So now, of course, the pressure is on for the Bridal Shower, a prelude for The Big Day!
Strawberry mimosas will be served and flowers have been ordered for the table. This will mostly be a party for the residents who may not be able to come to the wedding because of their schedules. And right after I finish the laundry and packing, I'm going to run back up to my writing tower and devise a "How well do you know the bride and groom game." I'll ask questions like, "What type of uniform strikes fear in the bride's heart?" or "What is the groom's favorite dessert?" It will be multiple choice. I won't order the "Make your own action figure dolls" on that'smyface.com; I was thinking 2 doctors, one with long blond hair and the guy in glasses. I'll leave the toilet paper at home. I still might order some angel wings from Mother Pluckers. This bride should be counting her blessings!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The registry
It's gift giving time. This morning I tried to talk my Mother-in-Law into giving her Grand Daughter a standing Kitchen Aid mixer for the bridal shower. This gift is not on The Registry List, but the bride loves to bake. Dessert can never come soon enough in her opinion. Maybe this is because I didn't bake, or for that matter, buy baked goods? Well I did have my standard celebratory cake that we made as a mother daughter duo once, or twice a year - triple layer carrot cake with toasted coconut cream cheese icing. I would also bring this cake to funerals; it is an equal opportunity cake. My daughter's reward for grating carrots (no, we didn't have a Cuisinart) was to apply the icing and finish off the bowl. Icing, now that is her reason for baking. We used to kid that if medical school didn't work out, she could always move to Paris and become a pastry chef. But I was serious.
My Mother-in Law thought this was a splendid idea, because she loves to bake too. They have their history of people pancakes, rugelah (Jewish cookies), Buffalo cake, and Dolly Partons (a very delectable candy). So obviously, her sweet tooth comes from her Father's side of the family. When she was little, a typical outing with her Dad would involve a stop at Palmer's for candy. As we're talking long distance about baking, the call-waiting buzz happens and it's my daughter. At any time, day or night, the bride takes preference over every other call...always. She will call in the car, on her way to or from the hospital, and we always talk, every day. It was a very busy night shift in the ER, and one of her dogs is waiting at home wearing the "cone of shame," and we giggled and gossiped. But then I made the mistake of saying something about how nice it might be for her to have a standing industrial sized mixer, since I was this close to ordering on Amazon. "No," my Bride said, "I really don't have room in this kitchen and no time to bake." And just like that, I found myself back on The Registry talking with Grandma.
For some reason, Grandma didn't want to get her knives, a bar table, or anything else of significance that might cause bodily harm or contribute to drunkenness from the Registry. I told her that during the Nashville flood, they lost everything in the basement, including the vacuum; but that too was not on the Registry. However, I knew that she really wanted a Dyson Animal vacuum since they have two dogs! "Great," she said. And I'm not sure how, but then we decided that I should give her the vacuum and she would give her a check. You have to be careful speaking with octogenarians on the phone, they are much better at phone talk than we are with our emails and "facelifts." Grandma calls Facebook, facelift, for effect. Now the point of the bridal shower is that it's a kitchen theme, and I really wanted to get her the Dutch Oven, that is on the Registry, and give her my recipe for Irish stew, but what the heck. I'm just the Mother-of-the-Bride.
Meanwhile today I bought a tackle box and filled it with all the tools a beautiful young woman might need for moving into her Freshman dorm room at Dartmouth. My friend's daughter is Salutorian today! It's a high school graduation gift tradition in my house that goes right back to the bride, when she graduated from high school thirteen years ago and my best friend gave her this gift - complete with an electric screwdriver, the handiest tool in the world. She loved it and still uses it to this day! I like gifts like this - useful, unusual and absolutely needed. Like a vacuum.
ps If you have a daughter, like mine, who will not do the typical Registry routine of walking through shops and gunning down everything in sight, who in fact, did not even want to do a Registry, Amazon.com allows the bride and groom to choose gifts carefully from the comfort of their home. Anything that is not carried by Amazon, can also be ordered directly from the same list. There is also something called Honeyfund.com, where guests who might feel uncomfortable giving checks like Grandma, can contribute towards a honeymoon or any other worthwhile cause. A good friend of mine, whose son is getting married this summer, noticed something interesting about The Registry in general. After looking over a few more, she said you can tell a lot about the couple from their Registry. And she's right.
My Mother-in Law thought this was a splendid idea, because she loves to bake too. They have their history of people pancakes, rugelah (Jewish cookies), Buffalo cake, and Dolly Partons (a very delectable candy). So obviously, her sweet tooth comes from her Father's side of the family. When she was little, a typical outing with her Dad would involve a stop at Palmer's for candy. As we're talking long distance about baking, the call-waiting buzz happens and it's my daughter. At any time, day or night, the bride takes preference over every other call...always. She will call in the car, on her way to or from the hospital, and we always talk, every day. It was a very busy night shift in the ER, and one of her dogs is waiting at home wearing the "cone of shame," and we giggled and gossiped. But then I made the mistake of saying something about how nice it might be for her to have a standing industrial sized mixer, since I was this close to ordering on Amazon. "No," my Bride said, "I really don't have room in this kitchen and no time to bake." And just like that, I found myself back on The Registry talking with Grandma.
For some reason, Grandma didn't want to get her knives, a bar table, or anything else of significance that might cause bodily harm or contribute to drunkenness from the Registry. I told her that during the Nashville flood, they lost everything in the basement, including the vacuum; but that too was not on the Registry. However, I knew that she really wanted a Dyson Animal vacuum since they have two dogs! "Great," she said. And I'm not sure how, but then we decided that I should give her the vacuum and she would give her a check. You have to be careful speaking with octogenarians on the phone, they are much better at phone talk than we are with our emails and "facelifts." Grandma calls Facebook, facelift, for effect. Now the point of the bridal shower is that it's a kitchen theme, and I really wanted to get her the Dutch Oven, that is on the Registry, and give her my recipe for Irish stew, but what the heck. I'm just the Mother-of-the-Bride.
Meanwhile today I bought a tackle box and filled it with all the tools a beautiful young woman might need for moving into her Freshman dorm room at Dartmouth. My friend's daughter is Salutorian today! It's a high school graduation gift tradition in my house that goes right back to the bride, when she graduated from high school thirteen years ago and my best friend gave her this gift - complete with an electric screwdriver, the handiest tool in the world. She loved it and still uses it to this day! I like gifts like this - useful, unusual and absolutely needed. Like a vacuum.
ps If you have a daughter, like mine, who will not do the typical Registry routine of walking through shops and gunning down everything in sight, who in fact, did not even want to do a Registry, Amazon.com allows the bride and groom to choose gifts carefully from the comfort of their home. Anything that is not carried by Amazon, can also be ordered directly from the same list. There is also something called Honeyfund.com, where guests who might feel uncomfortable giving checks like Grandma, can contribute towards a honeymoon or any other worthwhile cause. A good friend of mine, whose son is getting married this summer, noticed something interesting about The Registry in general. After looking over a few more, she said you can tell a lot about the couple from their Registry. And she's right.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Happy Anniversary
Thirty one years ago, I was left at my Mother-in-Law's house waiting for my groom and his best man to come back with the rabbi. This was a time of no cell phones, no personal computers in every home, and no way to know I'd be sitting here writing a blog about my daughter's wedding in the future. In fact, the elderly rabbi was waiting at a different corner than my soon to be husband thought, and so I wondered for awhile if I was to be left at the altar, so to speak. I spent my time sweeping leaves from around the pool since it looked like rain and all the wedding guests had retreated inside. I thought maybe the Pope really didn't forgive me for converting to Judaism; you start to hallucinate just a little before an event of such magnitude. And then they drove up! And the sun came out! And my brother made an inappropriate toast! My foster mother, the woman who had raised me in Victory Gardens, had suddenly died a few months before, which made the day bittersweet. I imagine it is this way for most brides, a little sweetness mixed with tears.
The invitations are in the mail. It's now occurring to me that I should make a checklist - if I had one, I could put a Big Check next to that one. My daughter and I had sent a flurry of emails back and forth about online wedding stationers. She and her fiancee finally picked the one with a little tree on top that looked like an apple tree. There was the big question of attire. Is it necessary to tell your guests what they are expected to wear to your wedding? Some said "Yes" but my oracle of all things wedding, MarthaStewart.com, said it was not necessary unless it was a black tie event. Even then, you say "Black Tie Optional." My girl over the years had participated in over the top, NYC black tie weddings and left coast cut-off jeans weddings on a beach...and the broad spectrum of everything in-between. She somehow thought people need to be told what not to wear! What I didn't get is that the invitation, by its very nature, is the first clue about your wedding. Will this be a formal affair, traditional with engraved lettering? Semi-formal, where just a part of the invitation is engraved? Or casual, like ours, designed and sent from the heart via internet and letterpress. The operative style for this wedding was going to be "rustic elegance." There is a word in Japanese that captures this essence, it means rustic and refined all at once. The word is somewhere in that book, "The Elegance of the Hedgehog."
I think I shocked my daughter when I told her that she and her betrothed could actually do the invitations. Somewhere I had read that this could be a bonding experience for the couple and give them shared ownership of the whole megilla; or the gansa megilla, which in Yiddish means the whole big fuss. There was a pregnant pause on the phone after I made my suggestion, I could hear her brain working over this idea through our wireless connection. "OK," she said very graciously. I told her all about the shelter animal stamps we could use that would benefit the ASPCA, and I even sent her the stamps. But, I later regretted this decision just a little, because when it came time to address the envelopes she was doing a rotation in the Pediatric ICU. This is the most intensely, emotionally hard field of medicine anyone ever invented. This is when you work for hours on a dying child, or you try and save a baby from SIDS; every day is a disaster with a young family that she would have to talk with about the possible outcome of their child's accident. But now the sun is shining, her PedsICU call shifts are over, and my invitation just might arrive today! On our wedding anniversary, a day I like to say we're still crazy about each other after all these years.
What is the secret to a happy marriage? Being available, listening, knowing that anything you say will be heard and has meaning to the other. But most of all, a sense of humor with some love thrown in. Marriage, it's not a bell curve, it's more like an EKG.
The invitations are in the mail. It's now occurring to me that I should make a checklist - if I had one, I could put a Big Check next to that one. My daughter and I had sent a flurry of emails back and forth about online wedding stationers. She and her fiancee finally picked the one with a little tree on top that looked like an apple tree. There was the big question of attire. Is it necessary to tell your guests what they are expected to wear to your wedding? Some said "Yes" but my oracle of all things wedding, MarthaStewart.com, said it was not necessary unless it was a black tie event. Even then, you say "Black Tie Optional." My girl over the years had participated in over the top, NYC black tie weddings and left coast cut-off jeans weddings on a beach...and the broad spectrum of everything in-between. She somehow thought people need to be told what not to wear! What I didn't get is that the invitation, by its very nature, is the first clue about your wedding. Will this be a formal affair, traditional with engraved lettering? Semi-formal, where just a part of the invitation is engraved? Or casual, like ours, designed and sent from the heart via internet and letterpress. The operative style for this wedding was going to be "rustic elegance." There is a word in Japanese that captures this essence, it means rustic and refined all at once. The word is somewhere in that book, "The Elegance of the Hedgehog."
I think I shocked my daughter when I told her that she and her betrothed could actually do the invitations. Somewhere I had read that this could be a bonding experience for the couple and give them shared ownership of the whole megilla; or the gansa megilla, which in Yiddish means the whole big fuss. There was a pregnant pause on the phone after I made my suggestion, I could hear her brain working over this idea through our wireless connection. "OK," she said very graciously. I told her all about the shelter animal stamps we could use that would benefit the ASPCA, and I even sent her the stamps. But, I later regretted this decision just a little, because when it came time to address the envelopes she was doing a rotation in the Pediatric ICU. This is the most intensely, emotionally hard field of medicine anyone ever invented. This is when you work for hours on a dying child, or you try and save a baby from SIDS; every day is a disaster with a young family that she would have to talk with about the possible outcome of their child's accident. But now the sun is shining, her PedsICU call shifts are over, and my invitation just might arrive today! On our wedding anniversary, a day I like to say we're still crazy about each other after all these years.
What is the secret to a happy marriage? Being available, listening, knowing that anything you say will be heard and has meaning to the other. But most of all, a sense of humor with some love thrown in. Marriage, it's not a bell curve, it's more like an EKG.
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