lenora_rose: (Wheee!)
[personal profile] lenora_rose
We just got the professional pictures back (Along with copies of same on multiple CDs), and Mom brought me the candids from the cameras on the tables. So I still haven't started sorting through the trip pictures, but once I wade through all the stuff, I'll prbably start putting up a series of albums of the best bits on photobucket or flickr.

Anyhow. Let's finally start this whole report off. I'll begin by transcribing (With judicious editing and correcting) the stuff I wrote by hand at the start of the trip.

_____________________________


Poor sleep seems to temporarily be a large part of my life.

For one, the paper draft of this is made en route to Rome. It's currently 5:30 AM Winnipeg time. I've slept some, but not enough. It's not easy to doze in an upright plane seat, even if we are in the exit row and have lots of leg room.

At the dinner after the wedding rehearsal -- thankfully planned and provided by my (now) mother-in-law, albeit with numerous helpers -- Brenna offered to give me a henna tattoo. She ended up doing a pattern on my ankle and lower leg, of seashells linked together by swirls. Not traditional, but pretty. She also gave my maid of honour a small arm pattern of shells, flower and seahorse (Doing a design for Brannie that isn't either horse or bird related in some means seems pretty much out of character), and, later in the evening, even got my stepmother with another small arm pattern, this time simple flowers.

However, that, even more than the expected wedding jitters, caused me, already shorter fo sleep than i preferred, to wake up every time I turned over, aware that if I didn't mvoe carefully, I'd crack apart the henna paste, and make a mess of the bed and ruin the design.

I'm sure it sounds dumb. I did sleep somewhat, though -- more I think than I have before almost any other recent major event. Not that this is saying much; I got 2 hours of sleep before the only SCA event I've tried to run, and about 5 before the social.

The plane ride is like most plane rides, except longer, and thus I'm stiffer. The hostess sitting across from us has been entertaining, and talking about looking forward to getting back to Rome, and eating some real cherry tomatoes again.

The day really began when Colin, also poorly slept, drove me over to mom's for hair dressing and wedding prep. I reminded him very very firmly before I left him not to forget the candles, and definitely not the ring. He promised, rather sleepily.

At Mom's, I got to see my auntie Gwen for the first time in a good long while, though technically, she'd come in from Vancouver on Wednesday. Auntie Gwen being a woman who's always ready to brighten and cheer any occasion, it was really good to see her.

(For those in the SCA, auntie Gwen is not my namesake, though I certainly don't mind sharing the name.)

Our hairdresser had already arrived, along with another hairdresser working on auntie Gwen and Grandma. Shortly after, mom left the house to the rest of us, to go to her own hairdresser. So we all had a very girly getting-dolled-up time. T., my bridesmaid, arrives in good time to give me a get-up-and-walk-around break from my own styling while she got her own rather shorter hair put up in curlers. T is a very silly girl, who could walk around in a purple oufit just this side of pyjamas, hair in bright pink curlers, and still look stylish and photogenic.

We didn't other getting the earphones -- the in-flight movie was King Kong, which we've seen, and I was more interested in finishing Naomi Novik's His Majesty's Dragon, and looking out the window. Can I just say, though, that timing dinner to coincide witht he spider=-pit sequence is Just Wrong?

Brannie came on the scene at last, along with her boyfriend (Not in the wedding party and therfore declared exempt from the "Boys can't peek!" rule), as fast as she could after an emergency orthodontist appointment. She was still a tad numb, but ready to get her hair prettied up as soon as they finished with me.

Auntie Gwen and Grandma sensibly fled as soon as their hair was done, to finish getting ready soemwhere rather less chaotic than we were about to end up, and mom arrived, with pretty hair and a tray of sandwiches.

I was done lunch and applying make-up when the photographer arrived and the day kicked into a higher gear. Branwen was so close to finished that I hid myself away in the room with the dress to pile into as much, or as little, of my outfit as I could actually get into alone -- not much. (To be fair, I could, and had, dealt with the multitude of back hooks & eyes successfully alone. It only took three times as long or so.)

So far, Europe looks a great deal like a big fluffy cloud.

We put me together -- hair, make-up, jewellery and dress all in the same place at the same time for the first time ever, and the photographer pounced. PCitures of me alone, and mom, gave Brannie and T. just time enough to get themselves together, at which point, the flowers arrived, along with my dad and stepmother. Yay! More chaos, mroe pictures. The photographer (Who, by the way, has claimed he doesn't know how to make jokes) seemed to know how to get people lauging just enough to be good for the pictures.

Ah! The clouds cleared enough to give us some nice views of the Pointy Bits (OMT) of Europe (Aka the Alps), along with the towns etc. wedged into the valleys therein. Whee! says this flatlander. And time stretches, as I'm peeking, not writing.

As we get back to hilly stuff, it's all gone hazy again. But -- again, time satretched,a dn we've been out of the mountains a while -- we did pass a city, from the maps they keep flashing, probably Verona. Winnipeg time: 6:50 AM.

It's astonishing how many wasy the photographer has to folding and arranging people and things. I hope it all turns out nicely.

He whirled out of there, and things relaxed again, and I got to finish drawing the table numbers. I'd meant these to double as the table programs. Not sure how well they worked, as they were printed on a laser jet with ink jet card stock, so some of the text went fuzzy as they got worked on.

Cultivation pretty much all the way back to the mountains and all the way forth until you hit the Venetian industrial zone near their airport. It's one thing to know Europe has been tended to within an inch, and the bits that aren't are mainly the bits that can't be. Very different to see it's so.It's also recognizeably different from Manitoba farmaland and the like, and not just by the fact that the ground under the fields rolls and ripples. More towns, more houses per each piece of farmland, smaller fields. The industrial parks could ahve been anywhere (okay, uuntil the canals and waterways popped up) but the towns and farms gave me an impression that told me this was Europe as much or more than our actual flight itinerary.

The thing that invariably happens when I have an even vaguely arty drawing project is this: I get fussy. It's not enough to use some basic supplies and come up with soemthing pleasant and uniform; each one has to be recognizeably different (104 little clay hearts, anyone?) Thus, my lateness with the table cards. There I was in dress (Albeit covered with a cloth, just in case) and manicure and make-up, doodling wiht markers that inevitably did turn my hands green. (Most of it washed off, and I don't think anyone but me noticed the remnants through the day).

I didn't write any more during the stopover in Venice, though I didn't sleep, either. Now that we're crossing back over italy itself, the cloud has broken up, and the cultivation, too, because of the lower moutnains and hills that run down Italy's spine, leaving wild looking mostly woods in the midst of suspiciously square wood-like areas that are probably orchards, and amid towns and fields. The view is finally justifying the window seat. Winnipeg time, around 9:00AM.

About the time I finished doodling the last card, Mom and my bridesmaids packed away most of my clohtes and dropped them in mom's car. At first I said to leave the bag here, then decided I'd want the jeans in the morning for the flight, and it was easier to take now than later. It sounds like an innocuous decision, and probably boring, but that choice transformed one major crisis into a much more minor one, so there you go.

(End of plane ride. The rest of my handwritten notes are essay fragments on the culture clash in my fictional world, and attempts to write the bloody novel.)


______________________________


The photographer stopped us again right in the course of getting out of the car, so dad could pose as helping me out, or at least being a part of it. He snapped a few more shots of me and bridesmaids on our way in, then we were hustled into the back nursery, the room from which we could see but nothing much could be seem except our eyes and faces peeking through the blinds, to see who'd made it, and who we were waiting for -- mom called it, and the Aunt and Uncle she'd predicted were indeed the ones just late enough to wait for without feeling like we could or should start without them.

The first fun was that since both of my parents were supposed to be walking up the aisle - the aisle was too narrow, at least when two of those people are large women with big hips, and one of them is in a rather long dress with a full skirt and crinolines. So I nudged mom ahead, which apparantly blocked some peoples' first view of my dress. Oh, well.

We got to the front of the church and I faced Colin, who was smiling ear to ear, and quite clearly liked my spiffy new dress. Loraine, our minister, started the service. [livejournal.com profile] abacchus and [livejournal.com profile] _aura_ did a very nice rendition of Les Barker's Turn of the Road, for which I am greatly thankful. ([livejournal.com profile] abacchus has already commented that he seems to keep getting heavily involved in all the weddings coming up. Considering the first was his own, serves him right for starting the trend.)

Then Loraine started her address to the couple. I was, of course, supposed to be paying attention, but I'd been looking at Colin, grinning hugely, and his best man behind him... and that's when I thought of the ring.

Which had been in the bag we stuffed all my clothes into.

I sidled back to Branwen a bit, and asked if she had it.

She didn't. I told her where it was, more and mroe grateful i'd decided I wanted jeans for the plane flight. But after that, I turned back to Loraine, and stayed that way, apparantly listening. I was, just not to her: I heard the clink as mom passed the car keys, the whisper that said she did so to my brother ([livejournal.com profile] jeffheikkinen) and he slipped out of the pew. I'd missed almost all of Loraine's speech to us, though I caught almsot all of the address to the rest of the guests. She looked a little besmused, but hardly offended, and she nodded in understanding when, just before we had to start doing the vows and serious parts, my brother snuck back in and slipped the box into Branwen's hand. Colin's grin had slipepd in the bit of confusion, but he was trying hard to suppress a laugh at my expense.

We made the rest of the ceremony without a hitch - except that i came near crying whle trying to speak my vows. Oddly enough, considering that the reason for wanting to cry was the person I was facing, it was the fact that I was hanging onto his hands for dear life that kept me from breaking down. He just looked deeply happy that it was happening, the whole time.

Mom surprised herself, and me, for not getting as weepy as she anticipated. I'm guessing because she'd spent it along the way, helping get the whole thing set up, fretting about money and seeing me in the dress several times over. Some people did get weepy, in fact, soem of whom were grateful for waterproof mascara, some of whom never wear the stuff -- they know who they are.

And we tumbled out of the church after a handful more of set-up shots, and ended up in my enighbour's yard for photos.

To explain, we have almost no garden, and corners of the yard taken up by piles of wood and insulation from the basement, and the TARDIS roof.

Our neighbour across the alley (Also, as it happens, our massage therapist), on the other hand, has a handsome porch in front, a nice new gazebo in back, and the kind of garden that gets into magazines, particularly as he co-ordinates with the lady next door to him so they match year to year. The tulips were out in force. He'd agreed to it in advance, and according to him, it was a hoot to watch, especially when he popped out to note that we could, and possibly should, move the big, empty, old fridge on his deck so it wouldn't be in the shots.

This was the FUN part of the photography - family pictures, yes, but also odd poses and arrangements, some of which were more backbreaking than they looked. Colin and I got to snuggle a lot, for which i can't see a downside. And the sun came out just at the end, to help out.

Off to the hall: Everyone probably knows what a reception line is like; everyone present pretty much gets to come up to you and hug you (At least if you're like me and willing to hug absolutely everyone who came). So that's almost a hundred different hugs and greetings. It's good to be the bride. It's also really good that my sandals lived up to expectations, and stayed comfy. That bit of advice was definitely totally sound, [livejournal.com profile] zandoria.

The food turned out well and yummy, and to identify her to the waiters as the one with the nut allergy (And because it was silly and therefore appropriate), [livejournal.com profile] sun_in_her_hair was given a rubber ducky -- which seemed to please her even more when she learned it was in fact hers to keep. The Best Man did a great job of MCing, making the right number of jokes and tongue in cheek remarks, doing very well from sparse notes and a great deal of off the cuff.

He also made sure the tables had to sing songs to get us to kiss, which only a few of the tables seemed willing to do. Whichw as fine - according to the photographer, it was almsort harder to keep us from doing so while we were supposed to be doing poses.

But as dinner turned to dessert, I'd started noticing that the music man had not yet begun to set up. So I asked mom to call. Soon after, my brother came back to me and asked me if I had any phone number for the guy other than what was in the phone book.

At which time I said no, realizing that while I'd had to call to confirm the fax went through at all, I hadn't received any other response to the fax.

Still. I had a stack of 5 CDs with songs for various parts of the night, includign the first dance. So we confirmed that the hall had their own sound system, which they kind of did. they had a 3-CD player, with speakers set up to cover the dance floor and the nearest tables, if not as loudly or with as good a sound as a real system. It meant the songs wouldn't blend together or cue as they should, but we could produce songs.

The Best Man/MC rather calmly announced that we'd be playing a sort of a wedding game in the next while, and if anyone had CDs in their cars, could they bring them to him?

The photographer (I'm betting the way I'm describing this makes him sound an utter pain - quite the opposite, actually, he did his job well and fast, was friendly and good at getting us to co-oridnate as we needed to for him, and the pictures are indeed pretty. I told him in all seriousness that I'd recommend him to anyone.) had begun to fret, as he had to leave soon, and we hand't done any of the reception standards except a mock cake-cutting. So while my brother had snuck off to our house to collect CDs of his and ours, we agreed to do the first slow dances, go back to our seats for the toasts, then later resume with whatever music people had come up with meantime.

We did so, and it was nice to dance with Colin, then with Dad. Of course, I was singing the words to the first song. I remember an astonishing number of them for a tune in a language I don't speak.

Jeff came back in just as the best man was announcing the toasts, and almost wilted with relief when Colin's dad was called up first. Originally, the first speech would have been my brother and Branwen together, btu we did figure on giving him some time.

Colin's dad spoke well, and said good things - then my brother and Branwen made me cry. Jeff did most of the writing, but they both performed well, turning it into a bantering sort of conversation, poking fun at old stories, like the number of people who mistake Brannie for my blood sister (she told me it happened apparently a half dozen times or so in the reception line), and did so even when she was dating Jeff...

Silly people. Hmph.

Once the MC duties were done, the Best Man, not much for dancing, pretty much took over the CD player, and the CDs handed out (another friend who lived less than two minutes' walk away brought a whole case of them, too, including all the Oysterband I hadn't), and played whatever seemed interesting and danceable to him. This actually worked out pretty well for music choices, though for some reason, the system refused to co-operate and play the CD when Branwen double-dared me to play the Flash Girls' "Yeti".

A few people may have suffered for not having their own musical tastes represented (My cousins seemed particularly to be left off the dance floor more often than on, and I'm sorry about that) but everyone looked to be having fun one way or t'other anyhow.

And, of course, I got to totally rock out to Blood Wedding, though mostly with the sheer joy that it didn't represent our actual wedding in any way (Although I do agree that I want this to be my only wedding as well as my first...) It wouldn't have been right if that song hadn't been played.

I only fell over twice in the course of the night due to the immesity fo skirts I was trying to dance in, and the fact that even bustled, the back of the skirt ended up under my heel a lot. Though I got the biggest reaction when Branwen stepped on my skirt in the course of the rapid fire Canuck-Celtic "Home for a Rest", and tore out the bustle -- and I just grabbed the hand-loop in one hand, the rest of the skirt in the other, and kept going. :) Heck, i could ahve kept going, mishaps and all, for a while yet.

But Colin was deeply sleepy, and had been for over an hour, so we did pack up and creep out eventually. I got to show him what I was wearing underneath the dress and make him regret a little being sleepy enough to keel over - but I preferred to shower, as dancing full force in a dress of about 4 layers is not exactly conducive to staying sexy.

(Number of bobby pins in the final version fo the hairstyle - 65).

Would that shower and sleep were the proper end to the night, as they had been meant to be. No such luck. See, my cat, Elise, had not appeared all night, and Irina didn't seem quite as complacent this time as she sometimes has to this fact. And we'd had so many people in and out of the house between the ceremony and the reception that it seemed quite possible she'd slipped out again.

So after checking out all of the house that had any reasonable chance of having a cat in it, including unlikely to have been disturbed doors like the basement, my brother and I ended up wandering around outside, he pointing the flashlight into dark corners, me calling her. For at least 20 minutes. Including som re-checking aorund the house.

By 3:30 AM, I decide I was tired enough I could just wait until it was time to feed them, as she'd almost certainly make her way back home by then. But I was annoyed and saddened that she wouldn't get to cuddle me on the night I was about to leave her for two weeks.

At food time, of course, I was awakened just beofre the 7:00 AM Alarm because of Irina, scratching and fussing at the outside of a linen closet which is almost never opened, and some much milder answering scratchign from within. I let Elise out, fed them, and mentioned it to Colin when I got back upstairs. He said that when we'd come home form the reception, he'd been very surprised to see the door open, and closed it after a quick glance to see if there were any cats therein.

No comment on the rather eclectic nature of my husband's observation skills.

Anyhow, we managed to get ourselves up and out of the house by 9 AM, for the trip to Toronto, and i even had a few minutes' cuddle with her. But we left short of sleep, and rambled around Downtown Toronto for a while for food and curiosity, then took off on our flight for Rome, where we failed to fall asleep for more than a couple of hourse, and some spot-naps here and there.

And the trip is recorded above, and I'll continue with Rome itself tomorrow. I think.
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