Bring on the nuptials!Katie C. and Beth got married this weekend and everything was just lovely.
From the salty margarita's to the weepy parents. The flash bulb photography to the extensive (and, in Beth's case very Portuguese) families that doted, and fawned, and hugged each other constantly to the old college friends I got the chance to reconnect with, everything was just spectacular.
We chatted, we ate.
The restaurant was not air conditioned and things got a little stuffy but everyone was too busy sipping and schmoozing and laughing at one another's stories to really pay attention to the temperature.
Matt and I sat with Blair, one of Beth's former roommates who, as it turns out, is way taller than I remembered. Also, funnier. He told us stories about moving, about Lancome (I think he works for Lancome, or Loreal. Some company like that.) and most hilariously about a roommate they had once-upon-a-time who smelled like wet garbage all the time and was absolutely atrocious.
"I remember him!" I say. "Katie and I were came stumbling home one night from a Red Sox game and we walked around the house in the dark like ninja's whispering 'Sweaty balls! Smells like sweaty balls!' cracking ourselves up."
"It was so bad." said Blair. "I saw him walking home from the T one night, so I offered him a ride. It's only about 300 yards to our front door but I swear to god, in the time it took me to drive home the stench got so bad in my car that I couldn't breathe, I had to crack the windows. It was January for chrissakes! Take a shower!"
"Oh no," moaned Matthew.
"Oh yes! It was like that episode of Seinfeld where they have to return the car because they can't get that smell out, remember? I was afraid I would have to do that."
****
Matt, looking rather butch waiting for a glass of waterJoyce and Warren were as lively and involved as they have ever been. Matronly. Proud. Positively gushing. You couldn't have a conversation without hearing, just off in the background, the rolling laughter of Warren. A hand on your shoulder. Somebody's toddler at your knee.
Speaking of which, I was adopted by little Davis. Beth's 2 year old nephew who they tell me is skeptical of strangers (most kids are at that age) but who, upon setting eyes on me, came right over and clung on to me for probably a solid half hour.
I pet his head and he would, occasionally, look up at me with the softest brown eyes and this puppy-dog look that just melted my heart. It was love, love, love.
His mother wanted to know how much I charge for babysitting.
Matthew laughed, "Believe me, you can't afford her!"
Nick, Beth's brother and Davis' dad, countered with "After three screaming days I'll be the judge of what I can afford." He winked. "Call me."
I met Big Al, Beth's gruff dad. I was hoping to have a conversation with him but it just didn't work out that way. There were just so many people.
Beth's grandfather swore up and down that I had to be Katie's sister. Or a cousin. A very close cousin, he said. I took this as proof that we are in fact actually family. Katie then pointed out he is 88 and had I noticed he was drinking whiskey?
***
The brides both wore blue.
Katie had little white flowers in her hair.
Beth made me First Officer in Charge of Not Losing Her Clutch, a designation I earned when I happened to be the closest person to her in the arrival kerfuffle where everybody wanted to hug and kiss and chat immediately and she needed both hands free for all that hello-ing.
It was quite amusing to see me wandering around the restaurant clutch purse in one hand, margarita in the other. You don't even have to know me that well to be thinking, 'Tana? With a clutch purse?'
It was amazing.
***
And after we all headed to a bar called the Good Life downtown.
Matt and I gave the brides a lift to their hotel a few blocks from the bar in my un-air conditioned Jeep (Sorry, Ladies. I do what I can!).
The cellar-style bar room was cool and dark and intimate all things considered. I moved on to my Redbull and pear vodka's, Matt seemed to get friendly with Beth's mom (a possible love connection? Beth would really become family!) and I saw even more friendly faces from days past. Old college buddies, friends of Katie's I have been hearing stories about for years and years but had never actually met, significant others and even some of Beth's P.T. patients who turned out to be very cool.
I snapped pictures for other people, could not stop hugging Katie's dad (He kind of resembles a beardless Santa Claus) and talked an awful lot about my relay race this past May.
The night ended with in a haze with sober Matthew chauffeuring my pleasantly inebriated ass home.
To Katie and Beth!
May a lifetime of love and joy be yours to share, forever.
xoxo
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