Let us now turn to happier times.
It's taken me a while to get around to this last part of the jibber-jabber - I guess I'm a bit sick of myself and quite possibly sick of the whole entire wedding (wonderful though it was). But because I am slightly anal-retentive and can't be satisfied until I've tied up loose ends, I'm going to DO THIS POST EVEN IF IT KILLS ME (the joy! Can you hear the joy?). Plus, this is the last time you'll ever see me with my hair brushed, so let's all savor this special moment together.
We had our reception at an arts and letters club in midtown Manhattan, housed in a beautiful old Stanford White building. Dinner was in the library, which felt very homey as I grew up surrounded by books.
It was a perfect setting to showcase Saipua's glorious flowers.
I designed the menus. By "design" I mean shouting at Illustrator and crying because I am not a designer and had no idea what I was doing. Maybe I'll show you some of my other wedding "designs" when I've recovered from the trauma of attempting DIY projects while working 10-12 hour days.
We ate lamb chops and cut the cake, which was vanilla with lemon curd and raspberries (the easiest and most joyful decision we made as a couple, thanks to Soutine, a wonderful little Upper West Side bakery very close to where I grew up). We asked Saipua to add spring flowers to decorate what was a very simple, pristine design. Somehow I never feel like eating cakes with lots of bells and whistles - excessive frosting grosses me out.
There were speeches. My dad wrote an epithalamium - a poem dedicated to the bride - and everyone erupted into thunderous applause, even though he misplaced the last stanza in his nervousness. My brother told humiliating stories of my youth, which followed humiliating stories recounted by my other brother at the rehearsal dinner. I'm glad my boss was there to hear about my HI-LARIOUS hijinks because I couldn't have him going around thinking that I'm awesome or anything.
Oh God, the first dance. How we dreaded it. We barely had time to choose a song, much less practice our dance. Fauxhawk lives in mortal fear of dancing and I am a complete spaz, so I had to talk him through a series of awkward white person moves while everyone gathered around us. It was like watching a Stevie Wonder impersonator drag a corpse around the dance floor. Suffice it to say that we were pretty psyched when it was over. Fauxhawk hid for the rest of the evening while he recovered his dignity. I continued to dance in an uninhibited way that makes people long desperately for inhibition.
My parents, on the other hand, danced a WALTZ. My dad requested a polka and I flat-out refused. My mother called me anticipating a fight and said, "YOUR FATHER IS EIGHTY-FOUR AND HE WANTS A WALTZ." Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Even I know when to back off. The band was less than stoked to be playing "Fascination" but they strapped on one and dealt, playing a very pared down version with the sax. It was beautiful watching my parents together.
My cousins brought Greek music and we did a few dances to honor the Old Country. Everyone clasped hands and joined in, side stepping in concentric circles to the bazooki.
Fauxhawk: There was Greek dancing?
P: Yes! What do you mean? There were three dances!
Fauxhawk: There were?
P: Oh my God! Did you miss them all? Where on earth were you?
Fauxhawk: Um...smoking?
P: But did you hear when they played "Move It" (one of our favorite songs, I'm ashamed to admit)?
Fauxhawk: Uh...when?
P: OH MY GOD! Were you even AT the party? What were you doing?!
Fauxhawk: Ermmm...smoking?
Which proves that you don't have to be together every second to have a fabulous time at your wedding.
And then things got hectic.
At first we were nervous that the venue was going to be stuffy, but we figured that our friends and family would lower the tone enough to compensate.
We did not anticipate the supreme awesomeness of the band. Do you see that guitar strap?? Do you see it?! And the cute lead singer with the curly mop?? So unbelievably adorbs. Half the girls were ready to throw their underwear at him.
Do you see that drummer? Do you see him?! He was amazing - and surprisingly functional even after several dozen Jack and Cokes.
The band turned our party into a throwdown of epic proportions, which was exactly what we wanted. They literally rocked the house, knocking all the paintings off their centers and bringing the whole crowd to its feet. Several people got carried away and fell flat on their faces, later claiming to have been doing an original interpretation of "The Worm." The floor was packed with sweaty bodies and blistered toes.
And then the music stopped and we all turned into pumpkins (and ate half the groom's cake with our bare hands).
The next and last stop: a wedding mitzvah and a video clip. Parts I, II, and III.
Credits: I am forever grateful to LIllian and Leonard for their beautiful photography.
