Took little Bobbers in to get that respiratory infection he couldn't kick taken care of. The vet was curious and suspicious as to why a normally healthy cat couldn't kick a regular infection, so he ran a test, and sure enough… Bob had contracted feline leukemia. Corey and I made the decision to put him down then and there, mostly because any money we can spare goes to treating my diseases, and he was just gonna be sick and miserable until he died. That's not fair to him. So, as much as it sucked, they euthanized him right then, with me holding him in my arms.

It was awful. Not because it wasn't quick and humane, but because I lost another child within 4 1/2 months. Bob's brother and litter-mate, Cortes, died on February 6th, and Bob wandered the house and property for weeks, crying for his brother, his favorite playmate and closest friend. That made it really hard for me to deal with Cortes's death, not to mention the incredible suddenness of it. He was fine that morning, he ate the antifreeze, two hours later he had been euthanized and was dead. Same with Bob. I had this horrible premonition when we took him in, but I kept trying to shake it off and chalk it up to worry, you know? But I knew there was something seriously wrong. I just knew. I know my cats. He cuddled up to me the night before, but I regret having been out of town all day and spending our last day together away from him. We had one last night together, though. Then the appointment, and within half an hour… boom. That was it. It was devastating.

Fortunately, Corey had the day off and was with me, so after I relinquished Bob's tiny, limp body he took me home and watched an episode of Cosmos with me while I ate cake I had bought the day before from my favorite bakery. I felt some better afterward, but my grief has stayed with me, and at that time worry was also gnawing at the edge of my consciousness as well, because we had to take the other two cats to be tested for feline leukemia, which apparently transmits incredibly easily via saliva. Bob and the other cats weren't very close, so there was little to no grooming going on, but all of the cats do share the same food and water dishes, which could totally pass the disease on to the others. I was going crazy with worry and fear and grief, making sure that I spent time with each of my kitties… in case it was the last time. I was really worried that Juneaux would be sick and I would lose him, because we've been together for so long, and been through so much… he's been the thing that has kept me alive/kept me from attempting suicide several times, and he is the thing that kept me going during my deepest and most miserable times of depression while beginning and trying to deal with the abuse and PTSD in Idaho. He is as near and dear to my heart as my family, and it would destroy me to lose him before he dies of old age.

Corey reminded me that I'm going to lose Juneaux someday anyway, but I told him that there is a huge difference between losing him to old age and losing him to tragedy. It's the same for people. It always tears you apart, but it's just… different.

Took the cats in late yesterday morning, and all of the employees and doctors were very kind and respectful, since they knew I had lost Bob just two days ago. Our regular vet was in that day, so she came back in after testing the two cats and asked me if I wanted the good news, or… the good news? I wasn't sure I heard her right the first time, so I was kind of silly and stunned, asking the same question a few times, but yes-- both Juneaux and Fancy have a clean bill of health. I made sure to get them both vaccinated against feline leukemia right then and there, though we still don't have enough money to cover the other vaccinations. I think they'll be okay. The vet said that one thing that worked in their favor is that they are adults, so their immune system is fully developed and stronger than Bob's was. Also, they don't get into fights regularly like Bob did, so less chance of catching it from other cats. I think that applies to rabies and distemper, as well.

I'm feeling better, emotionally, after having that relief of good news, though I am still grieving hard over Bob. Not constantly… and it's a little easier this time because there are no other kitties wandering around looking for him and crying, and also, Bob used to be out and about for large portions of the day, evening, and sometimes night, so it really just feels like he's out somewhere and he'll come back later. He wasn't constantly underfoot, so I'm not constantly reminded. That helps. I don't know if it'll be counterproductive in the long term to healing, but it feels better right now, and that's kind of all that I care about.

Went to a farewell party for two friends who are moving across the country (stop moving away, mofos!), and it was nice. I enjoyed myself, though for a while it seemed like everyone was just kind of wandering around more or less bored… but V, one of the other women, she insisted that everyone start playing these games that she brought, and that totally made the tone of the party so much better. I fell asleep during the second game, which is kinda surprising because it was super loud and lively, but when I need a nap my body will just go for it, and I had been putting it off all afternoon because I'd been out and about and busy. The man of the moving couple didn't quite seem like himself, which was weird, but then I've never been around him when he's drunk more than one or two beers, so that could be it. It could also just be the stress and grief of moving, especially moving away from such good friends and such a tight community such as we have now. I hope they can find the same happiness where they go. I had a bag of gifts for them, and he texted me later and said that it was a very touching gift, and thank you immensely. That made my heart smile, even if it is heavy that they're leaving. I care about them a great deal, and they have made it clear that they really like Corey and I, so it really sucks that they're moving. It is hard to find a couple our age to hang out with that aren't ghetto assholes or druggies, or with an obviously unhealthy relationship dynamic, and that's just way more drama than we want to expose ourselves to. The moving couple had so many of the same interests, and they have a zero-drama-tolerance philosophy, like us.

So I'm grieving two things. Three, if you count the memory of Cortes's death that's now super fresh and in my face again. I ate some italian food that I probably shouldn't have on Friday when we went out to eat (I begged for Italian over sushi, and now I'm paying for it lol), and now my guts are in a huge uproar. Probably because I ate the leftovers last night when I returned. My intestines sound like water gurgling down a drain pipe. It's definitely a weird sensation. I just wish I could get off of the damn toilet! That's where I'm living today, apparently. I know that my sadness is a large amount of my gut problems. I always have gut problems when I'm stressed out by anything… and losing what to me was legitimately a child, albeit furry... I consider the cats to be like furry human toddlers. That's about the age and communication level we're at together. Also, being unable to carry or bear children of my own… they are truly my surrogate babies. And I've raised most of them from infancy, if not birth. Bob and Cortes were both babies I raised from birth, and Juneaux was only a few months old when I found him. I feel that I have a right to grieve as much as any mother grieves over her lost human child. So, that being said… I know why my guts are all jacked up. Death, loss, stress, grief, loss…. so much loss… I'm just so glad that Corey understands my grieving process and is there to back me up and comfort me when I need it. Love that man.

This was a little difficult to begin typing… not because I'm working up to a particularly emotional topic or anything, but because of THIS:

 

Yes, that's right. Fancy climbed up onto my keyboard to take a happy little nap and make me pet her. I moved her aside a little to being typing, but she just hung out in between the laptop and I, purring up a storm and demanding with body language to be scratched. And really… that's freakin' adorable, no? I am still sad at the events that brought her to us--the death of Cortes and my subsequent search for a new kitty--but she has truly been a bright spot in these past few months. Even now, as my legs are aching almost beyond tolerance, I have a smile on my face and I'm still laughing a bit at her antics.

Fancy loves Corey. When she hears his truck rumble into the driveway after work, she stops whatever she's doing (yes, even eating! I know, I know… shocker.) and runs to the door to meet him. When he walks in the door she starts purring and weaving around him for a pet, but he usually ignores her then, and so she runs outside to play for a bit. She is like the other cats we've had, in terms of her meows. It's pretty faint, kind of rusty sounding, and not loud. At all. Kind of like Juneaux, how he opens his mouth to meow and only air comes out with a bit of a squeak around the edges, but she actually comes up with a sound. It's just not loud… unlike her purr. You can hear her all the way across the house. Honest.

She's getting better at getting along with the other cats. It seems like she's been here so much longer, but it's only been a few months. We got her at the end of February/beginning of March, so… three and a half months? Ish? She follows me everywhere, like Cortes did and like Bob still does, and she will sleep near me whenever possible. If there are other cats already sleeping on or near me, she'll find the closest possible place that she can tolerate, which is shrinking rapidly throughout the months. She is willing to put herself in much closer proximity than she used to.

Anyway, I could keep going about Fancy, but I really need to get up and get ready for the munch tonight. It's at a local restaurant that has survived for years, which is uncommon in our community. I'm feeling particularly awful today, so it's gonna take me a while… but I know that Fancy will be by my side or under my feet every minute of it. Heh. I love that girl.

I'm watching "Dance Moms" right now (just for background noise), and I can't believe what I'm seeing. These little girls are regularly decked out in more makeup than most women wear on a normal basis, and it just doesn't look right. The cast and crew are just setting things up for drama after drama, and these girls are caught in the cross fire. I feel so sorry for them. And there is just so much grumping, grousing, picking apart, and negativity. I would absolutely wither in such an environment, no matter what the situation. Those little girls are damn good dancers, though. I envy them their strength and vitality.

On February 6, we lost Cortes. I glanced outside just in time to see him looking up from lapping up a puddle of antifreeze that had leaked out of Corey's truck. I rushed him to the nearest vet that would take him, the first being too full and busy, but the second vet that took him in was amazing, so I'm glad we went there. They pumped his stomach and gave him charcoal, but the tests following that showed that he still had 3 times the fatal amount of antifreeze in his bloodstream, and what happens with antifreeze poisoning is that it mixes with the calcium in the cat's body and creates a kind of sticky, cloggy mess that clogs up their kidneys and induces kidney failure, which is a horribly painful and drawn out way to die. I couldn't let that happen to Cortes so I chose euthanasia, which was the right choice but horribly painful for me. I had time with him to hold him and say goodbye, I held him during the procedure, and then they gave me as much time as I needed afterward to hold him and just cry. I couldn't afford the cremation and urn and I didn't want his body to bring home and bury, so I opted for the "mass cremation" (cremated with whatever other animals and disposed of however they do it) and the clay plaque with an imprint of his forepaws with his name imprinted below the prints. They did a phenomenal job with the clay plaque, crimping the edges and making the prints and the words clear and legible. I was thrilled. I plan to paint it and hang it in the living room along with a favorite picture of Cortes in the frame given to me by a good friend specifically for that purpose. A week after Cortes's death, I received a card in the mail from the vet's office expressing their sympathy and signed by all the employees.

Corey and I are both bummed. Cortes was his favorite, and I, of course, love all of my animal babies fiercely. I don't have children, my womb refuses to house them, and the way things stand with my medications and diseases I won't bear children myself. This means that my maternal instinct is funneled into channels it might not otherwise be so present, and that means that my fur babies mean as much to me as anyone's human babies mean to me. Señor Drogo doesn't feel the same way that I do, but he cared for Cortes and misses him a lot.

About a week ago, we took in a new cat that needed a home. She's a calico, about 3 years old, such a love sponge and a purring machine. She will start purring, loudly, if I so much as start talking to her! I have a vet's appointment for her in a week because she has a really bad case of ear mites, one ear being entirely full of gross crusty brown stuff, the poor poor baby. Oh, her name is "Fancy". She was a pound kitty before the previous owners got her, and now she's in what appears to be her forever home. I have better pictures on my cell phone, but haven't been able to get them on the computer yet.

Things have calmed down, at least within me. I've had a lot of blows one after another for some time, but things seem to be slowing down and settling, at least temporarily. I have been beading more lately, trying to work up some sort of an inventory to start my Etsy store with. Just the prospect of doing something solid and with a purpose is exciting and fills me with giddiness. I miss that. Being in the house all day and frequently on the couch or in bed is really kind of dreary after a while. I want to go backpacking and antiquing and run errands and all the good old things I did before! I suppose I'll just have to think of ways to adapt them to my current physical abilities. Backpacking probably is out of the question, though, as I learned recently for a disability appeal form that I can only walk about 300 yards unassisted, and that's without carrying any weight at all. Hey, maybe someone will rig up a Bran and Hodor type situation and carry me on their back in a basket?! Hehehehe…

Besides beading, though, and being generally crafty, I'm working on another project to get my medical bills organized and keep track of how much I owe on each one. The idea is that I'll send in incremental amounts regularly rather than waiting until I have the whole amount at once, which will never happen. Ten dollars here, thirty bucks there… that much money can easily be spent on superfluous things, so why not put those bucks to good use? I'm going to use my old dry erase board calendar with the cork strip along the bottom to write out the company/office I owe money to, the balance owed, and at the bottom I'll pin the paper bills, to be discarded when the bill is paid off entirely. I think it's a good plan, one that will help me greatly. I'm more of a visual, touchy person and just having a stack of bills that I can't pay all at once has done me no good, and will continue to do me no good. (Guilty confession time: I've taken to throwing medical bills into a pile, unopened, because I just don't want to see the numbers that would simply ramp up my agitation. What I don't know can't hurt me… right? lol)

Oh yes, there's also the small matter of my oral surgery this Wednesday. I'll be put under and all three of my wisdom teeth will be removed at once because of serious impaction. (I am simply "missing" one wisdom tooth. Guess it never grew.) I'm going to have to eat nothing but soft, mushy foods for an unknown period of time, as I heal slower than the average person. The oral surgeon has seen many patients with chronic pain and autoimmune diseases, which is a relief to me, and he predicts that my healing time will probably be about double that of a normal person, which is to say three weeks to a month, possibly more. I wonder at what point I'll be able to switch from baby food type meals to a more solid diet? Well, if nothing else, at least I'll lose some more weight over this incident. I can almost guarantee it.

I'm reading The Swiss Family Robinson again, and I notice that every time I do my turns and phrases of speech alter slightly and become a little more old fashioned, as they are in the book. I'm still uncertain as to whether it's really a fictional account or true, but I don't have the heart to look it up because I'd liked to believe it's more of a survival manual than an interesting tale. Seriously, though, that family would break the bank if they played Jeopardy! It seems like they know every friggin' thing to do with nature or animals from all over the world. All. over. If I were stranded on a "desert" (I think they are using "desert" as an archaic term for "deserted", as it's really a subtropical island near the equator) I would rather have the father or the older brother with me than anyone else in the world because I believe that they would increase my chances of survival so greatly. Give the book a brief perusal; you'll see what I mean.

The next few days I intend to spend packing and preparing for a stay of a few days at my grandparent's home after my surgery, and I'd like to get some more beading done as well. I bought a bead/findings organizer last week and setting it up will be quite a chore but so worth it in the end. Lately it seems I've been doing nothing but sleeping or reading, sometimes crafting and all times petting and playing with the cats. It's not so bad of a life, what I've got going on, but still… it does get a bit monotonous and irritating after a while. I still don't know what to do with the fact that my pain is a life-long load I must bear, so for now I've tucked that thought away and out of sight. If I don't, it threatens to become overwhelming and drag me right back into the depression I have so recently escaped from.

For now though, it is, as my mom used to say, "bedtime for bonzos"! Or "Shadrach, Meshach, and Tobedwego!" (That's a joke based on the name of Daniel's companions in the Bible.)

I figure it's high time that I chronicled the events of my wedding day, and I have some spare time on my hands, so I may as well bite the figurative bullet and do it. Fact is, it's so much more pleasant to reminisce than to try to craft a meaningful narrative from my memories... but I know that I'm the kind of gal that needs some solid documentation to refer to in future times.

When my hard drive crashed recently, I lost a few recent photos and things that I hadn't yet backed up, but my greatest loss was the programs I had bought, such as iPhoto, GarageBand, Pages, Keynote, etc. I'm sure I still have the disks around somewhere, but they're hidden amongst my belongings that are now scattered to kingdom come from the move, which is frustrating. Fortunately, I uploaded all of the wedding and honeymoon photos to Facebook, in addition to having all of the wedding photos on a thumb drive. Whew!

Actually, I wrote up a summary of the day over on a bridal site that I frequent, so I'm just going to copy and paste that sucker, with the appropriate pictures interspersed. So much easier... and if I think of anything else, I'll just insert it in the appropriate place in the timeline. I'm a genius!

Without further ado...

*Long Post Warning and LOTS of pictures!*

"Well, I did it! Technically we did it, but I'm going to bask in the light of my accomplishment a little here, since there was a point during the rehearsal when I realized that holycrap holycrap holycrap we're actually going to get married to each other forever and ever! for realsies!, and I was not actually sure that I could go through with the wedding. (See picture for hilarious facial interpretation of internal feelings.)

This is the point during the rehearsal when I started getting nauseous and freaking out and wanting to call the whole thing off, or at least just elope. It's not that I didn't want to marry him, I was just fearful that getting married would ruin our relationship. Plus, I mean, a wedding is a Big Deal and a huge Life Change (for most), and I tend to panic in the face of such things.

However, I got over myself, and you know what? Our wedding was totally badass. I loved it. On the wedding day, I had no panic, no fears, no doubts, no hesitancies... Nothing but assurance within that I was making a damn fine choice and that I was going to be very happy.

The wedding that I spent six months crafting and envisioning sort of went to hell in a handbasket in  a few regards (what wedding doesn't?!), but the wedding that came out of it was even better than I could have imagined. To begin with, our venue for both the ceremony and the reception was a lovely little out of the way section of a local park that is surrounded by trees and flowers. It's called The Hummingbird Garden, because in spring it attracts hummingbirds by the droves. (Hummingbirds are also my favorite bird, and a very personal and spiritual sign of good luck for me, so seeing a bunch of hummingbirds whizzing about and hearing them chirp their happy little messages soothed me in an indescribable way.) I was hoping for cool weather, as a heat wave had hit us, and the projected temps for that day were the low 90's. Ugh. I felt sorry for the folks who had come from, well, anywhere else, as they are NOT used to these kinds of temperatures! It turned out to be very windy instead, and while that really threw a monkey wrench into some of our decorating plans it kept us all cool and comfortable. *Whew!* That was especially a concern as there was no shade to seat the guests in for the ceremony or reception. Several people showed up in the early morning to help us decorate and set up tables and chairs, and they did a fantastic job. (Side note: I got sunburnt that morning while "helping" to decorate the park! So all of the work that I'd done to get rid of my funny spaghetti-strap tan lines was for naught... and it totally didn't matter.) My husband and his brother did great work stringing long strands of beads through the branches of the paloverde tree we were to stand in front of, and even though they did it WAY differently than I had been imagining, it looked so much better their way; very romantic and fairytale-esque.

Fun fact: I've had this idea in my head for many, many years that I'd like to get married when the paloverdes are blooming. (I've also had the idea for a long time that I would marry outdoors.) To my disappointment, it didn't appear that the paloverdes would bloom in time for my wedding. However, two days before the wedding, every tree in town burst into riotous yellow bloom! So I did, indeed, get to be married while the paloverdes were blooming. That was really special to me. (See all the little yellow flowers?) By the way, for those who don't know, "paloverde" literally means "green tree" in Spanish. Can you hazard a guess as to why? :)

One thing I learned in force from the days leading up to the wedding, and the day of the wedding itself, was how to receive from others. I'm a "doer", and a giver. I like to help, and I especially like to do it myself if at all possible. I hate asking for help, because I have this terrible fear of imposing upon others, bolstered by large and unhealthy doses of guilt for stupid stuff. However, the stress of the impending nuptials really ignited my chronic illnesses the week before the wedding, and I was very sick and in a great deal of pain most of the time. My friends and family knew this, and they refused to let me do pretty much anything the entire time they were there. For instance, a friend of mine came over before my guests came into town and cleaned the apartment for me. When my guests got to town, they took over the decorations, spending the entire morning setting up, decorating and guarding the site of our wedding, the assembly of favors, the baking and frosting of special allergy-friendly cupcakes, cleaning my bathroom(?!)... everything they could. And I had to learn how to receive this outpouring of love and care with gratitude. It was difficult. Very difficult. But it also marks that period of time as a very special and intimate time, because I don't think I've ever been so cared for by so many people. I felt so precious and valuable; it was incredible. And I also saw that, while some people may not have felt that I was making the best choice in marrying an atheist, they still loved and supported us as a couple because of who we are as individuals and their connections to us. It was very telling that there was little to no familial or friend drama during our engagement or during the time immediately before the wedding, with the exception of some well-meaning warnings from more religious friends, which I took as a sign of their love, support, and care for my well-being. I saw in a big way what a difference surrounding oneself with healthy friendships and relationships makes when it really comes down to it.

We all showed up at the park at the ungodly hour of 8 a.m. (lol) to set up tables and chairs, decorate the ramada, and string beads from the tree that would serve as our backdrop. While I wasn't allowed to do much, I did end up doing a lot of shuttling and running around in my car. Some of the people that I was counting on showing up to help decorate were completely AWOL, but some people that I didn't expect to come help at all showed up and put in the bulk of the work, so it all evened out. As I mentioned before, my husband and his brother worked their magic on the paloverde tree with our long strands of beads, risking limb and life for beauty, because those things are loaded with some wicked thorns! My coordinator took care of everything, basically. I gave her the general idea that I had for the "look" of the scene, and she passed the vision on. Everyone kind of came together with their own artistic license, and it worked beautifully. There were some funny moments trying to deal with the stiff wind that was whipping through the park, and the men worked mightily to string up a bed sheet at one end of the ramada as a sunscreen for the cake later in the day. It kept coming loose, so one of the guys would climb back up the ladder, shout, "Twine me!", and go to work implementing another method of keeping the bed sheet tied to the rafters. It worked... eventually.

"Twine me!"

Since the only thing I was allowed to do was roll silverware up in napkins, I took off while my minions were still decorating the park in search of cute underwear to wear under my dress. It occurred to me that morning that I had nothing special and fancy to wear, and I wanted something different than the usual, so off to the mall I went. However, everything was closed but Wal-Mart, because it was Easter Sunday. I never knew that everything shuts down on Easter like it does on Christmas, but it is apparently so. I ended up grabbing several pairs of cute panties in different sizes, just in case, and... apparently my butt is huge, because none of them fit. Like, none of the 6 pairs. That was disappointing.

My mom, who was doing my hair and makeup, came over to our friend's house where us ladies were all getting ready, except that she was late, because that's my mom. She did a beautiful job with my hair and makeup, but because of her lateness and the length of time it took to get me ready, we ended up having to skip our pre-wedding portrait sessions that we had planned. Our photographers were very chill and continually reassured me that being late was no big deal. After all they wouldn't start without me. (Um, being late actually is a big deal. For me, anyway. And I SWORE that my wedding would start on time! Which it did ^_^) So we missed the picture session, but we got to the park with a half hour until the ceremony was supposed to start, so we had time for a first look (which was pretty cute!), and then we mingled with our guests who had already arrived. I suppose that this is a little unorthodox, as many people seemed surprised to see me wandering around in my wedding dress, but I didn't even think about it until later.

She's joking, really. It was a posed shot. Convincing though, no?

I had both of my parents walk me down the aisle, because while my step-dad has really stepped up to be a father to me when I had none, my mom has been my best friend my whole life, and raised me all by herself for most of my life. She and my step-dad only got married 6 years ago. I actually wore the very same dress she wore when she married him. My step-dad's mother was dying of cancer at the time, so to honor her my mom wore a necklace that my step-gramma gave her. When I married in my mother's dress, I wore a necklace made out of a kilt pin that my step-gramma had given to my mom, who then passed it on to me. We kind of made a little tradition there, with the dress and the jewelry from my step-gramma, which I thought was very neat.

When we got to the head of the aisle, my parents handed me off to my groom, and I picked up my walking stick from the officiant, which I had decorated that very afternoon while getting my hair and makeup done. It's the one C bought for me the weekend before at the Renaissance Festival (so I wouldn't have to use my walker as much). I had been hoping to do the deed without any walking aides at all, but I realized the morning of the wedding that I would definitely need some support up there, as well as help walking. I was already dealing with a minor flare, just due to the stress of the wedding and having an influx of people from out of town, but the day of the wedding I awoke in some pretty severe pain. My parents helped me walk down the aisle, and my stick helped me the rest of the time, plus I was downing the upper limits of my pain killers. The neat thing is that most people thought the stick was just for decoration and didn't realize that I actually needed it! That was cool.

The ceremony, which we wrote ourselves, was only about 15 minutes long, and it included a Wax Sealing Unity ceremony, instead of the unity candle or sand. (Our officiant was gaga over our ceremony, by the way. He forgot to do it, but he had wanted to print out copies of the ceremony and have them available at the reception for people to take home. He just so appreciated how meaningful and personal what we put together was, not to mention well-written... which I'll take the credit for. ^_^) I had printed out our vows and one of our readings on a piece of paper, and then we melted two colors of wax together at the bottom of the page and stamped it with our very own wax seal, the Celtic knot of eternity. I couldn't find an actual seal that I liked, so I bought a leatherworking stamp and C assembled a handle for it. During the ceremony there was a place where I maintained the whole time that I was going to read a poem, all the way through to the rehearsal. However, I surprised him by having my guitar handed to me and singing "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascal Flatts. (The only people in on the surprise were a few people that I told, my friend who was in charge of the guitar, and our officiant.)

Twine me! Oh, I mean-- Ring me!

Actually, the order of things was this: song to C, the vows and ring exchange, the wax sealing ceremony, then the piece de resistance. C's best man/brother D was charged with guarding the wooden ring box with his life, which he did, and then handing both rings over at the appropriate time in the ceremony. In all actuality, he pulled the drawer from the box that held the rings and handed C the drawer.

After the pronunciation and the kiss, we scampered off to my husband's truck for a few minutes to ourselves, where quilts and pillows were set up in the bed of the truck for me to rest on. He had bought a celebratory can of Arizona Green Tea for us to split (our favorite beverage, hands down!), and that's what we ended up using for our toast. We drank out of a drinking horn that we purchased the weekend before at the same Renaissance Festival where I got my stick, but I did it wrong and accidentally splashed tea down the front of my dress. (The dress was fine.) Before the cake cutting or drinking horn toast, my grampa said a blessing for the food and for us as a couple, as I had asked him to, and it was very special for me. I wanted to include him somehow, since he has been my father figure for most of my life, and is basically just a very, very good man. I wanted to honor his role in my life, and I think that having him give the blessing captured that well. It meant a lot to him as well.

Catch sight of the ramen box in the background that the favors never got taken out of? LOL

The cake cutting was kind of funny, because C didn't realize that the ribbon around the cake layers was actual ribbon, so he was a little stymied at first while making the cut. He sawed through that sucker, though, and I fed him a bite of the "normal" cake while he fed me a bite of the "special" cupcakes that J had baked. (The "safe" frosting that I had picked up had been refrigerated as per label instructions for the week before the wedding, after I opened it for the cupcake test run. However, even after letting it sit out overnight it was still very stiff and congealed... so the girls used it as a sculpture opportunity and turned my cupcakes into full blooming roses! How cool is that?) Also, Mom outdid herself in creating TWO cake toppers for our confectionary needs. The first one, the one on the big cake, is one that I designed (sorta), but the second was a surprise to me that she brought with her. She used one of our engagement pictures, and believe it or not used the same heart-knot design around the border that I chose for our cake! And that without communicating about it in any way. Great minds think alike :) (Honestly, I wasn't happy with how they looked on our cake... Sloppy, I thought... but hey, I didn't pay for it, so I don't really care! It was a gift from C's dad and his lady.)

Karateeeee CHOP! (Seriously. That's what I was doing.)

While everyone ate, we had a giant inflatable 20-sided die for people to play with, and some rules to go with it. If you rolled an 11 or higher, the bride and groom would kiss. If you rolled a 10 or below, you had to go kiss someone else! Our good friend was supposed to do a fire breathing show during dinner, but it was too windy for him to perform. He did finally consent to do a little show right before we packed up to leave, but the photographers were already gone, so we only got video. It was pretty awesome, though.

My mom and my husband's brother read toasts from our absentee matron of honor and best man, a married couple, since the best man had joined the military and gotten shipped out the weekend before the wedding. That resulted in his wife and son (matron of honor and flower boy) moving to Texas two weeks before the wedding, which we were all sad about. Fortunately for us, my sister and my husband's brother were willing to stand up there with us as our wedding party. (We had a lot of issues with dearly beloved people not being able to come due to finances, health, school, or all three.) After the reception wound down, my husband and I and our families stepped aside to do those wedding portraits we had missed earlier. While we were doing that, all of our friends pitched in and packed up the decorations and tables and other miscellaneous items we had set up in the park, so that by the time the pictures were done, everything was more or less cleaned up. We were out of there by sunset, headed home to change and pack for our night in the fancy hotel room that I reserved with part of our budget. We stopped on the way home to get some sushi, still in our wedding clothes, and the employee manning the register freaked out. It was hilarious! He took a picture of us on his phone, and the owner (who we've gotten to know through our consistent patronage) asked if he could put us up on the restaurant's Fb page. We said sure. :)

I'm really glad that I have the pictures to look back on. While the day did go by fast, it wasn't a blur, but there were so many things that I just didn't see happen. For instance, while we were trying to light the wick on our wax during the sealing ceremony (during our very windy day, remember?), our officiant stood behind us and spread out his robe in an attempt to block the wind for us. I had no idea until someone told me about it, and then I saw it in pictures later! And the pictures spark memories and stories that might otherwise get covered in dust and forgotten.

Sneak attacked! :)

It was a really, really great day. So many things were different from what I had so carefully planned, and I'm grateful for that. It showed me that even when I "lose control" of a situation or hand the reins over to someone else... it doesn't mean that the world will end, or even that it won't get done well. In fact, so many things were done better than I could have done them myself. It was a valuable set of lessons for me, and it was wonderful to be so showered in love and good wishes from those that came together to make the day possible. It really was a group effort; even though I planned it, they accomplished it. I just got to sit back and watch. Oh, and eat cupcakes. And kiss my new husband. I got the good end of the deal, I think...

Also, having just been to another wedding... C and I found it near impossible to refrain from comparing the wedding we were at to our own wedding. I've decided that I love our wedding. As I said, many things were different than I had planned, but still... It was so much fun! It was bursting with personality. The wedding we attended was sweet, simple, and heartfelt, and I think it matched the couple pretty well. C and I, however, are not your average couple, and our wedding definitely reflected that. I have heard again and again not only how beautiful the wedding was, but much more frequently how much fun it was and how it was so "us". That's the thing that people remember, and that's what I remember. We did it our way, our style, and included the things and people that were important to us. That is what made my wedding day not only memorable but meaningful.