My friend (Katie) Doyle got married yesterday. Technically, she is my sister's friend, but I've sort of been adopted over the years. The bride was beautiful, as was the maid of honor (Gretchen). The ceremony was pleasant and brief. They weather was sunny and warm. We threw rose petals at the smiling couple (which resulted in the bride fishing a number of petals out of her cleavage) and watched the brides little nephew run around picking up petals and throwing them in the air over and over, giggling.
The reception was fun. The food was good, the decorations pretty with a vaguley prom-like feel (helium balloons everywhere). I sat at a table full of people my age, all friend of the bride and my sister, and together we planned mild mischief. In Wisconsin, there is a tradition at wedding receptions during which the guest clink their glasses with silverware until the bride and groom kiss. It is sort of a dinner-table chivaree. Many people, however, find this irritating. It was requested that if we wanted the bride and groom to kiss, an entire table would have to stand and sing a song containing the word "love". Our table spent much of the dinner discussing what song to sing (once we were all sufficiently tipsy to do the task). The leading choices were "I Want You to Want Me" and that old play ground classic, "Katie and Jamie, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G...." It never happened though....every time we were ready to sing, the bride and the groom were either not together, or out of the room. Probably for the best, that.
We did get a bit of work done on the getting sufficiently tipsy. Besides an open bar for beer and wine, there was a champagne toast. One bottle was put at each table, and the guests poured their own glasses. After the toast, we started to notice that some bottle were sitting on abandoned tables, opened but still full. We couldn't let it go to waste, so we started rounding them up. I think we ended up with six bottles total. *Hic*
There was a DJ, there was dancing. The garter was thrown. The bouquet was thrown....I CAUGHT THE BOUQUET. It meant I had to dance with the big sweaty guy who caught the garter, but never-the-less, I caught the bouquet. There was hoky-pokying, chicken dancing, a conga line, and even "Sandstorm" to add a slightly ravey feel at the end of the night. (Did I mention that I caught the bouquet?)
A post-reception run to Perkins with a small group which included both my sibs completed the night. I think we looked like refugees from some strange Prom, but at Perkins at midnight, nothing is out of the ordinary. We were all tired as we ate our sandwiches and hash browns, but very happy.
Twas a good night indeed.
(And I caught the bouquet.)
