Death By Formalwear... Remembering My Wedding

Fifteen years ago today I married my wonderful husband.   Anybody who knows the two of us will tell you: he definitely got the short end of that stick. Even my own parents would tell you that. Especially my own parents.  And they’d be right.

I don’t remember too much about my wedding day. I got married in Savannah, GA in May in an old church. Which was great and beautiful and atmospheric... until the air conditioning broke in the church on the morning of my wedding. So there I was in my long-sleeve wedding gown, sweating profusely, in front of a couple hundred of our closest friends and family.

About 10 minutes into the ceremony, my maid of honor handed me a handkerchief so I could mop the sweat dripping down my face dot my brow.  Upon seeing me bring a handkerchief to my eyes, the preacher, who had known me since I was a baby, thought I was crying, so he started crying. He could barely get through the rest of the service he was so overwhelmed with emotion.  Everybody thought it was sweet and wonderful.

Except me, who was too busy praying that God would intervene with a freak May blizzard or something.

A good friend – the one who introduced hubby and I – played guitar and sang during the lighting of the candles in the middle of our wedding.  People came up to me during the reception and said they loved how Kevin and I were saying words of love to one another as our mothers lit the candles.  In truth, our conversation was more like this:

“I think I might die, I’m so hot.”

“Me too. Just hang on a bit longer and we’ll get out of here.”

Maybe not true romance, but still true love.

Ends up almost no one else in the church even noticed it was hot. Of course, nobody else was wearing 18 layers of whatever-that-material-is-called under a wedding gown.  Or a three-piece suit, like poor hubby. 

But we made it. And we’re still making it. Although we haven’t faced anything as treacherous as death-by-formalwear-in-a-smoldering-church in quite a while.

And if I look a little shimmery in my wedding photos, that’s bridal glow, not dried sweat.

Game Over, Man, Game Over! - And Other Marriage Advice

My baby-brother is getting married this weekend! Evidently in Georgia they allow 14-year-olds to get married.  What's that you say? My brother is 36? When the heck did that happen?

Oh, I guess about the time I turned 39...  Eeck.

We all had our doubts about whether QJ would ever take the plunge. Our confirmed bachelor, he is. Er... was. But then he found a gal who stole his heart and a mere five years later... poof: a wedding. (We tried to tell them to take it slowly, but young love... what can you do?)

My brother said an unmarried friend of his future father-in-law explained marriage like this:

All the unmarried guys are sitting on their tropical islands, sipping their umbrella drinks, having lots of fun, and looking out at the ocean...

Where all the married men are on a sinking ship, just trying not to drown. And the married men call to the single men and say, "Come join us! This is a great cruise!"

And the single men... well, the smart single men... just shake their heads and go back to their umbrella drinks.

But not my brother. He has put down his drink, and is swimming out to that sinking ship... er, wonderful institution, that is called marriage.

So, in light of the upcoming nuptials on Saturday, I thought I would post a few items to provide my brother with some advice regarding marriage.

That they totally crack me up is just a bonus. 

Best wishes, baby brother. May your marriage be full of blessings and laughter. May love and kindness always guide your actions. May you always love each other more tomorrow than you do today.

Game over, man. Game over.