By request: Our wedding!

I got a request from a reader to write about my marriage to Tony. If anyone else has any suggestions let me know.

Ah, wuv, twoo wuv!

Tony and I dated for 4 years before we got engaged. Our relationship up to that point certainly was not perfect. We had already broken up twice. Each time was a dreadfully, emotionally taxing, tear-filled hour to hour and a half until we got back together. Both times for silly reasons because I have a trait that is purely unique compared to other women where I read too far into things and create problems where there were not any. *wink*

I suspected the “question” would be coming up shortly when I discovered some of my rings missing from my jewelry box and knew Tony had taken them for sizes to get just the right ring. I was excited and didn’t say anything to him because, even though I knew it was coming, I wanted to feel surprised. Tony has never been good at taking initiative on gifts and surprises, so I was very excited to see what he had planned for this memorable moment in our lives.

Finally, the fairy tale moment arrived. I came home one evening after classes and work to a house (trailer) filled with lit candles. It was beautiful and I was touched. Then, I saw Tony, standing over by the dining table waiting for me with dinner all set out and ready. He said he made me dinner and then we sat. Then we started to eat. Then he started some small talk. We continued to eat. It got a little awkward, surrounded by candles, huge sweeping romantic moment it was supposed to be and we just chewed chicken in silence with a few awkward words in between. Then, like infinity and 20 minutes later, he shuffled off his chair and got down on one knee and sputtered out some loving, adorable words, and finally, placed the ring on my finger. The ring he had been so careful preparing for and sizing and researching. He had swiped three of my size 7 rings, taken them with him in shopping, picked out a ring, then carefully placed the beautiful size 4.25 on my finger. It didn’t go past the first knuckle.

Let’s skip ahead 1.5 yrs when we finally got married. It was the summer after my first year in vet school. Tony was working as an OR nurse at UGA vet school in Athens and we were planning to get married at my dad’s house – the one I grew up in. We were trying to keep costs down in any way possible. The most money I spent on individual things was my dress – bought on clearance for <$500 – and the tent. We had the most amazing friends and family who contributed to the affair. My uncle (the absolute best cook of meats on the grill) cooked barbecued chicken and pulled pork. My cousin’s wife is a pastry chef and made my cakes. (Good cakes too – not covered in fondant – red velvet, chocolate with peanut butter icing, strawberry, and something else that was amazing I just can’t remember.) A friend of Tony’s family volunteered to be the photographer to build her portfolio. Tony’s youth minister was the preacher marrying us. Tony’s mom, a hair stylist, did all the wedding party’s hair. My cousin played the guitar for the ceremony on a rocking chair on the front porch of the house – he played “Time in a Bottle” when I walked down the aisle.

Uncle Ward – master griller
Kim – master baker, but helping with veil. Fabric like $13 at a craft store. Ring of flowers picked and braided that day by me.
Tony’s mom (in the middle) – master hair dresser. My mom on the left sewing my veil
Jeff – master musician

We used my MP3 player just plugged into the sound system that came with the tent for music during the reception, we went out and bought all the decorations including mostly fake flowers and peacock feathers, but we also went to the flower shop the morning of the wedding (which was also the day before Mother’s day) and bought up all of their flowers that were white or purple and made due. We borrowed tables and chairs from the church the youth pastor was from.

The ceremony started. It was a balmy evening with a romantic haze (okay, it was smoke from the Florida fires.) My cousin beautifully played acoustic guitar. The wedding party came down the aisle. Then the ring bearer (my niece from my sister); then the flower girl (my niece from my brother) who made about 3 circles around a tree before she was finally ushered onto the aisle. Then I came down and the preacher started talking. We had written our own vows and it was all going beautifully when the deep guttural sound of a choking dog pierced the serenity. People tried to ignore it, but there was my beloved childhood dog, Maybelle a lab/pointer thing (nowadays maybe called labrointer or a pointador, but back then, just a mutt) chewing on a deer leg – she was fine, but my mother was mortified.

Tony with ring bearer and me with flower girl

The preacher finally announced that we were married and told us we could kiss when I was attacked. Like it was going to fall off, Tony grabbed my head in both hands and kissed me so suddenly I was more stunned and embarrassed than flattered. (I’ve never been much for PDA anyway). I even tried to push him away a little. After that, we announced the reception would be in the back yard and would everyone please grab the chair they are sitting on and carry it to the reception – again, my mother was mortified.

Notice the fist in his abdomen – preacher thought it was funny

The reception was laid back and fun, we ate rich southern dishes such as barbecue, macaroni and cheese, lemonade, sweet tea, and red velvet cake. Our first dance song was “Dance, Dance, Dance” by the Steve Miller band. We had a dry reception on the surface for the benefit of my grandmother who was stringently against drinking alcohol, but we had a keg stored behind a flap of the tent. Unfortunately, the word didn’t get out that there was alcohol because of the fear that my grandmother would find out, so only a few people partook. By the end of the night, Tony and I left for our hotel where we were staying before we left for Greece the next morning. My dad’s side of the family, though, probably the only ones aware of the remaining keg, stayed. My siblings and cousins all stayed up past midnight drinking and jamming out to the music on one of their car stereos, which then died and had to be jumped off. Somebody passed out in the grass and got eaten up by fire ants. Somewhere around that time my dad awoke to them blasting and yelling out the lines to “Say It Ain’t So” by Weezer which he thought was appropriate for the situation.

Cake is so funny!
So graceful…
K, bye!!

Our trip to Greece was another fun adventure. Maybe another blog.