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pameladeanAfter the couple Eric had met and Eric had reminded one another of where and how they had met, and caught up on one another's news, we admired their baby for a while. She was very pretty and cheerful and had an energetic lunge, like a fish trying to jump out of a tank; but her parents seemed to have a good intuition of when she was going to try to fling herself about.
Her mother was concerned that nobody else had brought a child, so that if this one made any unfortunate noises, everybody would know whom to blame.
The sun was extremely bright and strong, and Eric's acquaintances had spotted someone else they wanted to talk to, so we retreated to the shade of one of the hedges. We were joined by a very pleasant-looking man with a shaven head; he had taken a picture of us earlier, in our completely bewildered state. He said he thought we had the right idea. My impulse was to remark on his unprotected head, but it seemed a bit personal for someone one had not been introduced to, so I smiled foolishly.
The only wildlife to observe was human, though an occasional crow flew over and a few grackles called. In time I noticed other children, and hoped that the worried mother had noticed, too, that there would be Other Suspects should Untoward Sounds occur.
We moved back out into the sun after a bit, and the bride, trailed by a serious small girl in a white dress, came up and said hello to Eric, and was introduced. The groom had been wearing a nice blue suit. I don't know anything about fabric or dress, but there are stiff suits and then there are comfortable-looking ones, and his was the latter. That is, he looked like somebody who cared about the occasion, but not like somebody who worked for Wolfram and Hart. He looked pretty relaxed.
The bride was sparking with energy and at the same time seemed quite distracted, though I don't know whether this was caused by the occasion or was part of her natural personality. She was wearing a white sleeveless dress with a pattern of bright red and orange and black asterisks, with a kicky black net petticoat and high heels, and her hair up. It was a much less soft ensemble, but it suited her very well. She introduced the small girl as her little sister, and her little sister looked shy.
The bride darted off to say hello to some more people. The sun got stronger. The groom came to talk to us a bit more, and, unsurprisingly, still had in his head the weather forecast for this day from a few months ago and from a week ago, as well as the actual weather on this date in the past. As you might expect in Minnesota, these ranged from "snow" to "eighty degrees." We didn't get either this time; it was really a wonderful warm spring day. I wished I'd brought a bottle of water, though.
In time we were gently herded to stand facing a large imposing piece of sculpture like a set of half-submerged sails. An academic colleague or teacher, I'm not sure, of the bride's, made a short address. I have not really performed nor written so very many wedding ceremonies -- I don't need the fingers of one hand to count them -- but I do tend to consider them with a semi-professional eye. The address was amusing and moving and short. It dealt gracefully with the fact that the principals were not just now forming a new household but had been living together for years, and mentioned freeing a cat's stuck paw at three in the morning. I liked that.
Photographers in purple shirts kept popping out from behind the sculpture to take pictures; there was actually a nice symmetry to it, so while it was funny it was not out of place. A number of grackles appeared in the poplar trees outside the hedge and remained throughout the ceremony, all facing in one direction and looking very correct.
The officiant also said that marriage is not just a private matter, but deserves support from the community; and, as was new when I got married but now seems traditional, invited the guests to commit ourselves to supporting the marriage. I remembered my own wedding, fondly, as I always do on such occasions. I looked at Eric. We deserve support from the community, too, I thought, and put my arm around him.
The vows made me cry, and not only me. They included some "special bonus vows" meant to address the usual kinds of friction you get when you live with someone; the problems discussed were indeed some that David and I had had in our early years together.
There was some congratulatory milling around, and then the bride told everyone how to walk to the restaurant where the reception would be. Eric and I set off quite briskly, but most people must have driven, because the space allotted to the wedding party at Auriga was crowded with people drinking champagne when we got there.
I suffered a brief failure to cope. Eric got me to sit down and brought me a glass of water. He had noticed that one picked up one's name tag from a central table, and then looked at the back of it to see which table one should sit at. We were at table 7, and I sat down gratefully with my water. Eric made forays into the crowd -- he had a fancy to talk to the people with the lovely improbable hair colors, but they were standing near the doorway and he would have had to block it to talk to them.
The printed menus at each place told us that the appetizers included artichoke mousse on an olive oil cracker, foie gras spoons with potato flakes, smoked tuna loin with rampions on toasted bread, and crab with anise mayonnaise wrapped in nori.
One intrepid waiter did come all the way back to where I was sitting by the windows to give me olive oil crackers with artichoke mousse on them, but for the most part Eric had to make expeditions into the thick of the happy drinking talking crowd to get stuff before they ate it all. I admired their energy, to prefer standing around with glasses in hand, managing napkin and small sticky food items in the other hand, talking vigorously about politics.
The olive oil crackers were splendid, and while I prefer my fancy food to have more texture to it, the mousse made a pretty contrast both visually and on the tongue. I didn't try the foie gras spoons, and forgot myself so far as to refer to them as "tortured goose liver," but Eric didn't mind. The crab nori was absolutely wonderful; the anise bound the other flavors together in an amazing fashion. The tuna came out late and was very popular. Eric got one bit and scrupulously split it with me.
People came out bearing wine, and having eschewed the champagne I decided I could have one glass. I have no idea what it was; it tasted like a Rhiesling grape, but it wasn't very sweet. It was lovely.
A group of four people bore down on our table, and a young woman bent graciously to us and said, "I figured this would be the South Bend table; so what's your connection?" Eric told the story of how he had known the principals in California, and how they had ended up moving to Minneapolis two weeks before did, the bride to take up a job at the University of Minnesota and Eric to attend the same university, and how they had very kindly asked him to stay with them while he found an apartment.
The four people consisted of the young woman who had asked us our connection, another young woman, the latter's mother, and the competitor with Eric for fullest beard in the place. I'd have loved to talk to him, but he was at the opposite end of the table on the same side as I was. He was introduced as a Minnesotan after I said I was one. The two younger women had gone to grade school with the bride.
They continued their reminiscences, which were very entertaining. In time the two empty places across from Eric and me were filled, by the couple he had met before and the beautiful baby, now asleep in a sling on her father's chest.
The woman who had asked us our connection also, having read her menu for the first time, asked what the loin of a tuna was. Eric did his best with the question, locating it between particular sets of fins. She looked much impressed and said that that was the best answer she had ever gotten. I looked at her with interest at this point, since she seemed a fellow creature, if she cared about words.
The rest of the table tried very hard to take a polite interest in Eric and me, but they could not help returning to their reminiscences. I enjoyed listening to them. They were not malicious about their old friends or enemies, and the stories they told about the bride were endearing. The mother and daughter insulted one another from time to time, but it seemed fairly affectionate.
We were brought baskets of bread and butter, and the baby woke up and grabbed a piece of bread. There was a dark moist bread with raisins in it that I liked a lot; it was good even without butter.
At one point in the reminiscences the woman with the mother said to the woman who had asked our connection that she did not recall her much before junior high school. "I was a geek with a nervous stomach," the woman who had asked our connection told her. "I vomited frequently in school." Aha, I thought. Later on the reminiscences came almost within hailing distance of malice as people discussed what had become of "the geeks" in their class, and the connection woman said quickly, "But you know, it's often the geeks who get the most interesting jobs." Later on, when Eric and I disassembled our teapots to see how they worked and admire them, she was interested too.
There was nothing wrong with the other people at the table: they were intelligent and courteous and interesting. But I like best the people who want to take the teapot apart, and wonder what the loin of the tuna is.
Pamela
Her mother was concerned that nobody else had brought a child, so that if this one made any unfortunate noises, everybody would know whom to blame.
The sun was extremely bright and strong, and Eric's acquaintances had spotted someone else they wanted to talk to, so we retreated to the shade of one of the hedges. We were joined by a very pleasant-looking man with a shaven head; he had taken a picture of us earlier, in our completely bewildered state. He said he thought we had the right idea. My impulse was to remark on his unprotected head, but it seemed a bit personal for someone one had not been introduced to, so I smiled foolishly.
The only wildlife to observe was human, though an occasional crow flew over and a few grackles called. In time I noticed other children, and hoped that the worried mother had noticed, too, that there would be Other Suspects should Untoward Sounds occur.
We moved back out into the sun after a bit, and the bride, trailed by a serious small girl in a white dress, came up and said hello to Eric, and was introduced. The groom had been wearing a nice blue suit. I don't know anything about fabric or dress, but there are stiff suits and then there are comfortable-looking ones, and his was the latter. That is, he looked like somebody who cared about the occasion, but not like somebody who worked for Wolfram and Hart. He looked pretty relaxed.
The bride was sparking with energy and at the same time seemed quite distracted, though I don't know whether this was caused by the occasion or was part of her natural personality. She was wearing a white sleeveless dress with a pattern of bright red and orange and black asterisks, with a kicky black net petticoat and high heels, and her hair up. It was a much less soft ensemble, but it suited her very well. She introduced the small girl as her little sister, and her little sister looked shy.
The bride darted off to say hello to some more people. The sun got stronger. The groom came to talk to us a bit more, and, unsurprisingly, still had in his head the weather forecast for this day from a few months ago and from a week ago, as well as the actual weather on this date in the past. As you might expect in Minnesota, these ranged from "snow" to "eighty degrees." We didn't get either this time; it was really a wonderful warm spring day. I wished I'd brought a bottle of water, though.
In time we were gently herded to stand facing a large imposing piece of sculpture like a set of half-submerged sails. An academic colleague or teacher, I'm not sure, of the bride's, made a short address. I have not really performed nor written so very many wedding ceremonies -- I don't need the fingers of one hand to count them -- but I do tend to consider them with a semi-professional eye. The address was amusing and moving and short. It dealt gracefully with the fact that the principals were not just now forming a new household but had been living together for years, and mentioned freeing a cat's stuck paw at three in the morning. I liked that.
Photographers in purple shirts kept popping out from behind the sculpture to take pictures; there was actually a nice symmetry to it, so while it was funny it was not out of place. A number of grackles appeared in the poplar trees outside the hedge and remained throughout the ceremony, all facing in one direction and looking very correct.
The officiant also said that marriage is not just a private matter, but deserves support from the community; and, as was new when I got married but now seems traditional, invited the guests to commit ourselves to supporting the marriage. I remembered my own wedding, fondly, as I always do on such occasions. I looked at Eric. We deserve support from the community, too, I thought, and put my arm around him.
The vows made me cry, and not only me. They included some "special bonus vows" meant to address the usual kinds of friction you get when you live with someone; the problems discussed were indeed some that David and I had had in our early years together.
There was some congratulatory milling around, and then the bride told everyone how to walk to the restaurant where the reception would be. Eric and I set off quite briskly, but most people must have driven, because the space allotted to the wedding party at Auriga was crowded with people drinking champagne when we got there.
I suffered a brief failure to cope. Eric got me to sit down and brought me a glass of water. He had noticed that one picked up one's name tag from a central table, and then looked at the back of it to see which table one should sit at. We were at table 7, and I sat down gratefully with my water. Eric made forays into the crowd -- he had a fancy to talk to the people with the lovely improbable hair colors, but they were standing near the doorway and he would have had to block it to talk to them.
The printed menus at each place told us that the appetizers included artichoke mousse on an olive oil cracker, foie gras spoons with potato flakes, smoked tuna loin with rampions on toasted bread, and crab with anise mayonnaise wrapped in nori.
One intrepid waiter did come all the way back to where I was sitting by the windows to give me olive oil crackers with artichoke mousse on them, but for the most part Eric had to make expeditions into the thick of the happy drinking talking crowd to get stuff before they ate it all. I admired their energy, to prefer standing around with glasses in hand, managing napkin and small sticky food items in the other hand, talking vigorously about politics.
The olive oil crackers were splendid, and while I prefer my fancy food to have more texture to it, the mousse made a pretty contrast both visually and on the tongue. I didn't try the foie gras spoons, and forgot myself so far as to refer to them as "tortured goose liver," but Eric didn't mind. The crab nori was absolutely wonderful; the anise bound the other flavors together in an amazing fashion. The tuna came out late and was very popular. Eric got one bit and scrupulously split it with me.
People came out bearing wine, and having eschewed the champagne I decided I could have one glass. I have no idea what it was; it tasted like a Rhiesling grape, but it wasn't very sweet. It was lovely.
A group of four people bore down on our table, and a young woman bent graciously to us and said, "I figured this would be the South Bend table; so what's your connection?" Eric told the story of how he had known the principals in California, and how they had ended up moving to Minneapolis two weeks before did, the bride to take up a job at the University of Minnesota and Eric to attend the same university, and how they had very kindly asked him to stay with them while he found an apartment.
The four people consisted of the young woman who had asked us our connection, another young woman, the latter's mother, and the competitor with Eric for fullest beard in the place. I'd have loved to talk to him, but he was at the opposite end of the table on the same side as I was. He was introduced as a Minnesotan after I said I was one. The two younger women had gone to grade school with the bride.
They continued their reminiscences, which were very entertaining. In time the two empty places across from Eric and me were filled, by the couple he had met before and the beautiful baby, now asleep in a sling on her father's chest.
The woman who had asked us our connection also, having read her menu for the first time, asked what the loin of a tuna was. Eric did his best with the question, locating it between particular sets of fins. She looked much impressed and said that that was the best answer she had ever gotten. I looked at her with interest at this point, since she seemed a fellow creature, if she cared about words.
The rest of the table tried very hard to take a polite interest in Eric and me, but they could not help returning to their reminiscences. I enjoyed listening to them. They were not malicious about their old friends or enemies, and the stories they told about the bride were endearing. The mother and daughter insulted one another from time to time, but it seemed fairly affectionate.
We were brought baskets of bread and butter, and the baby woke up and grabbed a piece of bread. There was a dark moist bread with raisins in it that I liked a lot; it was good even without butter.
At one point in the reminiscences the woman with the mother said to the woman who had asked our connection that she did not recall her much before junior high school. "I was a geek with a nervous stomach," the woman who had asked our connection told her. "I vomited frequently in school." Aha, I thought. Later on the reminiscences came almost within hailing distance of malice as people discussed what had become of "the geeks" in their class, and the connection woman said quickly, "But you know, it's often the geeks who get the most interesting jobs." Later on, when Eric and I disassembled our teapots to see how they worked and admire them, she was interested too.
There was nothing wrong with the other people at the table: they were intelligent and courteous and interesting. But I like best the people who want to take the teapot apart, and wonder what the loin of the tuna is.
Pamela
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 01:06 pm (UTC)I keep getting wedding envy, but must remind myself that our low-key plans are probably for the best, and I can always throw huge dinner parties later if I regret it. ( http://www.sharedwing.net/wedding/ if you're ever terribly bored)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 01:58 pm (UTC)Even a comparatively low-key wedding can be very stressful. I still remember the spat we had over when to get the witnesses to sign the certificate. Perfectly silly.
I like your pages a lot.
Pamela
no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 04:18 pm (UTC)What were they.
My favorite from my wedding was a promise to be each other’s accomplice. We’ve done pretty well at that, actually.
B
no subject
Date: 2003-05-06 07:33 pm (UTC)Basically, the one who didn't mind being hungry promised to cook at least one meal a week for both of them, and the one more willing to wear dirty clothes agreed to do one load of laundry a week for both of them.
Pamela
no subject
Date: 2003-05-07 12:34 pm (UTC)B
no subject
Date: 2003-05-13 03:46 pm (UTC)I liked that they had deliberately introduced a bit of humor into their ceremony. (This was the second time they'd married one another, after all, without having divorced in the interim.)
--
arkuat
People
Date: 2003-05-06 10:02 pm (UTC)Introduction
Date: 2003-05-12 03:05 am (UTC)I thought it was about time I introduced myself, since I've been lurking for a while. I found your journal because my sister read Tam Lin, and liked it a lot, and mentioned that you had a journal. I immediately put the book on hold at the library, but it's s-l-o-w in arriving. After reading so much about your writing process, I'm looking forward to reading one of your actual books.
In the meantime, I quite enjoy your journal, and through you I have also discovered and been thoroughly charmed by, Sharon as well. I've been trying to meet new LJ friends so as to make my journal less of a diary and more of a dialogue. I've been following the trail of people who love words and it just keeps leading me to more interesting people, which is great.
So far, from your journal I have intuited that you're poly (duh) and that you've been married, it seems for quite a few years, and also have a boyfriend and from all appearances, this arrangement seems to be working well for all involved. I've just recently come out of my first poly relationship, and all in all I would call it a good experience, but it still ended after a little over a year and I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to experience a long term (which for me at this point would be more than 2 years) relationship, and why, if I'm so emotionally healthy (according to my friends) do I keep picking people with particular patterns that aren't really conducive to longevity. As someone coming from the vantage point of the so-called, greener side of the fence, I'd love to pick your brain sometime about the trials, tribs and lessons you've learned along the way. I guess you could say I'm in research mode...and since most of my friends are my age, and in the same boat, I don't have many people with real life experience to talk to.
Well that's quite enough for now I suppose. If you're interested in talking more, I'd love your thoughts on this post (http://www.livejournal.com/users/ephany/43136.html#cutid1) in particular. Thanks for the words.
Ephany
Re: Introduction
Date: 2003-05-13 09:11 pm (UTC)You are very welcome to my journal. I'm sorry that my books are so hard to find.
David and I have been married for 20 years. Raphael and I have been together for eight. David and his sweetie, Lydia, who have also been together for eight years, and Raphael and I, all live together. Eric is my other sweetie, and our relationship is, um, fifteen months old right now. I had a girlfriend, whom I also did not live with, for six years or so, but I messed that relationship up royally. We are very amiable together, however.
I'll look at your post as soon as I can, in the next few days; I don't feel very wise, but I might have some perspective.
Pamela