The final entry in this year's blog challenge focuses on the prompt "my wedding disaster." Have I got a comedy of errors for you!
Anyone who's married can probably empathize with the hectic rushing about that happens as the wedding ceremony approaches. Mine was no different.
Mom hired a salon to fix my hair and that of my five bridesmaids. The stylist did the bridesmaids first. Of course, she ran late, which caused her to rush through my appointment and make me late.
Hastening to the church--all nicely perspiring on that 102 degree F day--I changed into my wedding gown, a frothy white taffeta confection complete with hoopskirt underneath. Nerves and sudden awareness of this momentous change in my life contributed to teary eyes and running mascara. The wedding Mass itself went off without a hitch. Afterward as we gathered the unity candle and other paraphernalia, my new husband dropped one of the crystal candle holders my mother loaned us for the ceremony. It shattered on the church's hard tile. Mom gave us the other one to remember that by.
We adjourned to a local park for photographs and then to the reception. The 3-tiered wedding cake was topped by a crystal figurine of doves. The hotel's air conditioning failed to cope with the day's sweltering heat. The cake collapsed. The doves shattered.
Off to the honeymoon. David and I saw that his brothers had decorated his black Ford Escort with white shoe polish. His nephew (who served as our ring bearer) couldn't reach very high, so he painted what he could reach: the trim and tires. No matter. We headed out. Upon arriving at the hotel where we'd spend our wedding night, we heard a hiss. Lucky for us, the dollar dance at the reception generated enough income to cover replacing a punctured tire.
The next day we checked into the cabin reserved for our honeymoon, thinking we had a week of romantic togetherness to enjoy. But a canoe excursion resulted in my fair-skinned husband burning to a crisp. He couldn't bear to be touched. I hopped on the bandwagon and endured a sunburn, too. Solidarity, you know. By the time our hides healed sufficiently to resume the romance, we were on our last day of the honeymoon.
That morning as we indulged in amorous behavior the locksmith--who'd been traveling from cabin to cabin replacing door handles and latches--walked right into our cabin. Yeah, that put a damper on things.
It's probably fortunate that neither my husband nor I am superstitious, because the running disaster of our wedding and honeymoon would otherwise have sent us running for the hills. As it is, we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary in June 2018.
The couple who can laugh together and at themselves stay together.
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is happy to reciprocate Blog Swaps in 2019. For more information:
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