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It's a foolish bride who shows no fear at a horde of Preacher's Privateers...

I worked very hard for this wedding in the month leading up to the big day. Not as hard as the bride & groom, of course, and not as hard as Palaver the best man, but pretty damn hard. It wasn't just a matter of co-ordinating the first plane ride & week-long vacation in little Blake's young life (although that alone was absorbing enough to convince me that Napoleon's ulcers were well-earned). It wasn't just a matter of finding a snazzy outfit that would allow me to breastfeed at will. It wasn't just finding a suitable, non-registry gift (even if I'd wanted to tone down the unique, the registry was pretty cleaned out by the time I heard about it). (more)

As you can well imagine, the excesses of Thursday night necessitated a long period of recovery. When we finally woke up on Friday morning, I had a vague plan to go visit with Preacher & Palaver, but by the time we got them on the phone, it was clear that they needed to suffer in peace. Palaver was vomiting repeatedly (thanks to several shots of tequila consumed late in the evening) and even if we'd had more motivation, we didn't have a car at our disposal. Before she left to run errands, Sula told me about the nearest take-out counter and the nearest wading pool, so I was set up for my day of lethargy. Not that I made it out to the pool (see above, re: lethargy). No, we spent most of the day napping in turns and eating terrible take-out chicken. (more)

As is traditional, the female members of the bridal party got up too early on the wedding day so that we could get our hair styled & shellacked. Don't think that I got out of this because I was on Team Groom; I had just as much reason, nay, more reason to get a professional style on the big day. After all, I've been mired in the hell known as "growing out my hair" for months now and on my best days I barely get past "ratty." (As I wrote to Martha in the weeks leading up to the wedding, I "need[ed] to be transformed from ratty to acceptable.") To this end, the Boy packed up Blake and a bottle and went to be my proxy in Team Groom for the morning. While we were getting out hair prettified, the boys were in charge of eating greasy diner food and watching "Clueless." They get the worst jobs, I swear. (more)

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- Rocketbride's adventure of 8/04/2004 08:18:00 p.m.