(Grab your crackers. There’s cheese ahead.)
Thirteen years ago, we were two crazy kids who were not quite 20 and just barely 23 who got married in Wisconsin in what we sometimes refer to as The Wedding That Would Make a Fantastic Reality Show. It was a comedy of errors, to say the least. It’s hard to pick the things that I wouldn’t do differently.
The band? The band. You guys, the band. Apparently, they were a lot more religious than we had anticipated and they brought their own GIANT FENCE to separate the men and the women and refused to play unless the fence was up and all women were on the women’s side and all men were on the men’s side. No. I am not kidding.
The photographer? Where to start. He took about 25 pictures the entire evening, including exactly TWO of the bride and groom together, and in one of them, the bride has her eyes closed. So, that means that there is exactly one professional photo of the bride and groom on what is supposed to be the most special day of their lives, and it’s kind of terrible shot. No. I am not kidding.
The chuppah? I was actually really excited about our wedding canopy. All white, I had requested. Plain, simple, beautiful. Instead of all white, what the wedding coordinators heard was “wrap it in white bedsheets and then decorate it in yellow and white polka dot ribbon and green shrubbery.” No. I am not kidding.
It was almost like everything that could go wrong, just, well, did. And then some more stuff went wrong. The food was bad, the flowers were weed-like, my dress required a last-minute sleeve addition.
I cried an awful lot on our wedding day.
But you know what?
There’s was only one way to go from there. UP.
And that’s exactly the way it’s gone.
Up.
Baby, thanks for lifting me up for the last 13 years. I can’t believe how far we’ve come. I can’t wait to see how far we get to go.
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