Cruising around other wedding blogs as well as commercial sites gave me a serious inferiority complex about my shortage of DIY skills. Although our wedding had a "hand crafted" feel on the whole, that was mostly a matter of our obsession with details and tricking actual artisans and craftspeople to do our bidding.
Our one craft project, which I blogged about in September, turned out nicely, though, and I thought I'd share the final product with you:
I'm not sure whence we stole the family-wedding-pictures idea, but I'm seeing it pop up all over the place, and I'm really glad we pulled it off, and grateful to both our moms for helping out.
This last close-up shows the milk-bottle flower arrangements that the moms made so nicely with celosia, eucalyptus and some kind of berry that I have yet to identify. The framed portrait you see is of Michael's grandparents looking so elegant.
By the way, the card basket cost $5 on the clearance shelf at a craft store and the guest book was a cheap $7 acid-free journal from Barnes & Noble, with a vacation picture glued to the cover. My philosophy on these things was, if we don't have the time, money or inclination to really make these anything special, then lets not spend any real money on something that will just be a compromise. What's written inside is what we'll cherish anyway.
P.S. Thanks again to Missy for taking great snaps!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Please Be Seated
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Raise the Bar
Several people who read this blog were guinea pigs in our months-long experiments with wine and beer. For their edification, and for anyone else who might be interested, I am happy to provide the final list of drinks we served:
Aperitif:
Gruet Winery (New Mexico) Methode Champenoise, Brut, non-Vintage
Hugues Beaulieu (Cotes de Languedoc) Picpoul de Pinet, 2005
Evan Williams Bourbon in Mint Juleps
Dinner:
Folonari (Veneto) Pinto Grigio, 2005
Castellana (Abruzzi) Montepulciano, 2006
Spaten (Munich) Oktoberfest "Ur-Marzen"
Red Hook (New Hampshire) "Late Harvest" Autumn Ale
Digestif:
Talisker, Scottish Malt Whiskey, 10 Year
Oban, Highland Scotch, 14 Year
Macallan, Fine Oak Highland Scotch, 12 Year
Basil Hayden's Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey
Clear Creek (Oregon) Eau de Vie de Pomme, Barrel Aged 8 years
Clear Creek (Oregon) Williams Pear Brandy
We were really pleased with all our choices, limited as we were by the ridiculous liquor control laws of North Carolina, our budget and our obsessive wish for magnums. The wines paired perfectly with the food, and the brandies paired nicely with the cheese course.
And if any of you are interested in re-sampling, we have a ton of this stuff left over.
Water-Colored Memories
Two weeks feels like a lifetime - keeping up with everybody else's wedding blogs reminds me how intense the last year has been - and how peaceful and just-right life feels now. On the center table, draped in burgundy linens, the centerpieces of dahlias, zinnias, celosia, artichokes, eggplants, pears and peppers, were (of course) 100% local and organic, and assembled by a team consisting of our moms, my aunt, my sister and Michael. They were so nervous to do such a big and important job, but as you can see, the results were lush and elegant. I am very happy we didn't chicken-out and spend a lot of money on a florist.
We haven't got any professional pictures back, but we have many talented photographers among our friends, and I am happy to share a few of their snaps - those that I would consider "general interest" pictures. Many, many thanks to Jennifer, Bethany, Tom, Missy and Kristen for these great images.
I am happy that somebody took a good photo of the ceremony program, after the trouble we had with the offset printer. I am proud of the design of these programs, but more importantly I am grateful to Dave for designing such gorgeous invitations, which served as the template for these pieces.
The animals on the farm were a big hit with the guests as we hoped they'd be, and the buses arrived early enough that people had plenty of time to tour the whole farm and enjoy it in the daylight. Lemonade and iced tea were served during the hour before the ceremony.
The chickens were very sociable, and the donkey stayed quiet throughout the ceremony. He appeared to be paying rapt attention, in fact, which was a bit unnerving.
The brass quintet was a bit underwhelming. But, I think only Michael and I really noticed their ponderous timing and freewheeling sense of tonality, because we had so often listened to great recordings of all the music they were to play. Nonetheless, part of the reason for having the quintet was the juxtaposition of the elegant and the rustic. I assume this was their first time playing in or beside a goat paddock, and it was a cool thing to see.
The ceremony was just exactly what we had hoped for - thoughtful, prayerful and dignified. We really chose excellent readers who brought drama and insight to the scriptures. My best college friend, who is now an academic theologian, gave a reflection which - to put it crassly - blew minds. Our "collaborating presiders" did their work with grace and confidence. And our two vocal soloists sang beautifully.
Immediately after the ceremony, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the horizon with a dramatic, fiery sunset. On the porch and the lawn of the farmhouse, our guests enjoyed hush puppies and oyster po' boys washed down with champagne (Gruet Brut from New Mexico), dry white wine (a picpoul from the Roussillon) and sweet mint juleps.
The tent was gorgeous, with three long banquet tables. We were glad to have insisted on long tables against our caterer's advice, because they were perfect. Each place was set with a personalized menu card and a packet of vintage-style postcards, wishing "Greetings from" all the places we have lived and worked - and the places from which so many of our guests traveled.
The other two tables were draped in navy, and had hurricane lamps set into magnolia and laurel wreaths, with votives and green hydrangeas scattered around. An absolutely fantastic salad of squash, goat cheese and figs was set at each place so that guests could start eating during the first of four (!) toasts.
Our Illegal Wedding: Now With Extra Illegality!
As soon as the ceremony ended, an odd feeling set in. I probably asked a dozen people, "So, does this wedding seem a little weird to you?" I suppose it was mostly that surreal sensation that many people report: This is it. We are getting married right now. Jesus tap-dancing Christ!
But, there were plenty of other unplanned occurrences that made our wedding day peculiar. For one thing, it was intermittently disrupted by bursts of machine gun fire in the distance - which (blessedly) many guests mistook for fireworks. The brass quintet played all the music at a funereal pace that made Michael and me pull our hair out - although it undoubtedly sounded fine to anyone unfamiliar with those pieces. Also the DJ (in whom we had so much faith) was after all a mind-boggling idiot.
Most importantly, though: our wedding was shut down by the police!
I'm not joking. Apparently, at the quiet end of a country road, sound travels a long way. We might have learned this from enduring the distant machine-gun fire all afternoon. The police came at 9:30 to ask us to turn it down or turn it off. A neighbor from about a mile down the road had called them in hysterics. A very hateful, very sleepy neighbor.
Dave, the owner of the farm, fended the police off for a while. We turned down the volume a notch. It is in fact quiet out there, so we truly didn't need it dialed up to 11. This satisfied the police for a while, but at 10:30 we heard they were on their way back. We told the DJ to wrap it up (probably the most merciful thing to do, in fact) and, unsurprisingly, he chose to end the night some awful music, not on our playlist, that I do not care to recall.
Fortunately, by then, we were good and boozy, actually having a great time, and amused the unique distinction of having our wedding shut down by the cops.
So is it, in fact, just me - or was our wedding a little bit weird?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Nice Day for a White Wedding
While Emerson and I were on our honeymoon, we were (of course) constantly rehashing and reliving The Most Beautiful Wedding Ever, when we came to realize that our wedding was really, really white. Back before the book came out, we used to read Stuff White People Like, so we decided to see exactly how much white people would like our wedding.
First things first: the wedding was on a goat farm that we found by meeting the goat farmers at their cheese stand at the Farmer's Market. I mean, the whole wedding was practically an advertisement for a farmer's market, given the local and organic nature of nearly all the food as well as the flowers (#5 Farmer's Markets, #6 Organic Food).
The ceremony featured a brass quintet, obscure pieces by 19th and 20th century composers and a soprano solo sung in Czech, in clear expectation of our guests Appearing to Enjoy Classical Music (#108). We wore clothes that we found on eBay and in thrift shops (#49 Vintage). Also, one's attendance at the ceremony was the ultimate consecration of Having Gay Friends (#88).
The menus were printed on unbleached, recycled paper (#64 Recycling). As you have already read on this blog, we toiled and agonized to find exactly the right Wine (#24) and Microbrews (#23).
A solid majority of the guests were friends from Graduate School (#81), The Ivy League (#98), or both. Except for those who went to art school with Emerson (#47 Arts Degrees) or grade school with me (#16 Gifted Children).
And let's not forget about our honeymoon, which was just as white. Since we missed our early morning flight, we killed time by buying new iPhones (#40 Apple Products). It worked out great because we were able to take pictures of our honeymoon and upload them instantly to Facebook (#106). And while on our honeymoon we did many things that white people like, such as wine tasting (#24), doing things by the water (#51) and wearing outdoor performance clothing (#87).
And of course we capped it off San Francisco (#91), where we enjoyed the very best imaginable Sushi (#42). And the plane ride back? I'm almost ashamed to admit we brought the Sunday New York Times (#46).
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Holy Sh#t, We're Married!
I know that I should probably be doing something else other than blogging on the morning after my wedding but for some reason I am compelled to do so. So here we are.
We'll have a full wrap-up soon but I wanted to get a few thoughts down this morning.
The first thought is: holy shit, we're married! My second thought is, to quote the great Stephen Colbert: "Great wedding? Or greatest wedding?" My third thought is: Yuliya would be so disappointed.
I should probably leave it at that for now, but I will say one thing. My second favorite moment was when the horse galloped in triumphantly during the interlude and my favorite moment was when the burro came braying and kicking right after him. That's right. A burro.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Pints Go Marzen In
A few days ago we realized that, while we had spent a fair amount of time trying to choose wines to serve, we had spent relatively little time thinking about beer. We didn't want to be lazy and serve Corona or some crap like that. And while my love and admiration for Yuengling is greater than should be allowable for a mass-produced domestic lager, the committee voted it down. And by "committee" I mean Emerson.
So we toyed around with the idea of serving local craft brews, which fits in very well with our focus on locally produced and sustainable food choices. But while the Triangle actually has a great selection and variety of microbrews, they tend to run close to 10 bucks a six-pack. Add the 75c "corking" fee per bottle if we choose not to get Heinekens from the caterer (like that would even be a choice) and we have another case of the committee voting in the negative. And by "committee" I mean me.
So if you can't go with the oldest beer in the country, and you can't go local, what's left? Seasonal! We're both suckers for Oktoberfestbiers, and a pale lager that's not over-hopped seemed perfect for a late summer / early fall wedding. But with so many craft beers as well as major labels making a beer they call "Oktoberfest", exactly how do you choose?...
Beer tasting! Last weekend Emerson I and trucked our way over to the beer store (a chore, I know), and snatched up every beer labeled "Oktoberfest" or that had some sort of visual aid on the bottle that implied we should be drinking it in October, such as an orange leaf or a scarecrow. And then we sat down in front of the Mets game (watched them kick the Phillies' collected asses, but I digress) and tasted away. With notes!
Almost every beer we tried would have sufficed, since we culled the obvious losers at the store, but we pretty much landed on two. First, Spaten. Made in the traditional Marzen style, it's pale with just enough sweetness to balance out the light hops. It's truly refreshing and a quintessential Oktoberfestbier. (Of course, nothing else in this wedding is German and importing twelve-ounce bottles from across the Atlantic isn't exactly sustainable, but I refuse to dwell upon this fact any longer than this parenthetical statement). Our second choice isn't technically an Oktoberfestbier, though to it's credit it doesn't claim to be: Redhook Late Harvest. A classic American red ale, it was full flavored yet smooth; should be a great choice to go with dinner, especially if the weather is on the cooler side. Also, it's from New Hampshire; the connection should be obvious.
Now, I suppose this also an appropriate time to wax nostalgic over my halcyon days as a study abroad student and my October excursion to Munich and the Hofbrauhaus, a madcap adventure that I'm sure was entirely unique to me and my buddy Adam and that no other college student experienced in the years leading up to, or the years following, that fateful trip where I drank beer out of comically gigantic glasses with 2,000 other American and English college students and which is undeniably the most authentic experience one can possibly have in a foreign country. But I won't mention it, because it has little to do with my big gay wedding 12 years later. Although I am now vaguely inspired to start a new blog all about the utterly unique and unprecedented experiences I had in college...
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Crafty!
For each weekend left until the wedding, we have little projects, mostly arts and crafts. Thankfully, we know that all the really big stuff is covered (catering, venue, music, ceremony). I'm glad we got those things out of the way so we could feel free to try some slightly outlandish (for us) things that might fail, knowing they are of minor importance.
Our first project was actually rather successful. We are using the very traditional two-card seating system. Each guest will pick up an "escort card" upon entering the reception tent, and then at each seat will be a "place card." I believe that giving people specific seating assignments helps alleviate the awkwardness of choosing your spot at a "mixed" table of friends and strangers.
It only came to mind recently that this system doesn't exactly lend itself to an outdoor wedding. Lots of little pieces of paper flying around is neither charming nor particularly "green." Fortunately, we are not the first people to seek a way to hold those little cards down.
Somewhere in my obsessive scouring of the internet's matrimonial treasures, I found a picture of an escort table crisscrossed with ribbon. It looked quite lovely – very formal, and a bit more interesting than some of the simpler options. I filed it away in my mind, but later – couldn't remember where I had seen it.
Fortunately, this project is more popular as a bulletin board than as a tabletop, so applicable examples and instructions were widely available. Also, Michael and I – although not artsy/craftsy – are also not total idiots. Thanks to the crafts store that bears my fiancé's name, we were able to assemble enough ribbon, scrap booking supplies and double-sided tape (no hot glue guns - that's a serious level of commitment) to make this happen.
The downside of this project is that I spent hours looking for the escort-table idea that I had remembered but failed to bookmark. In doing so, I saw so many - dozens upon dozens! - of great place card ideas. I felt so inferior to all these creative folks! I realized how many cool, creative projects we hadn't even tried. But I didn't want to change course. A simple, utilitarian display is infinitely more "our style" than any cool deployment of corks, pine cones, seashells or origami.
And I am sure that no one will show up to our wedding having just spent hours clicking through galleries at The Knot or MS Weddings. I hope not, anyway!
Update: Look what somebody else posted today (!): http://tinyurl.com/682455
No Postage Required if Mailed in the United States
I started to worry about seating charts. As in many things, I wanted to get a head start on what I know from experience can be a complicated and tedious task.
So, we developed a system. Using color-coded Post-It notes, we began arranging guests at 13 tables. It was fun at first. Give me a yellow! (Confirmed attendee.) Give me a blue! (Expected, but not confirmed). We need two purples over here! (Seat fillers, like at the Oscars.)
Unfortunately, fun turned to frustrating quickly. Do you want to know why - and how you can help?
Because we are waiting for 98 RSVPs! I know, I know - you have 9 days still to reply. But why wait?! Give us a hand people, send them in - especially if we don't know if we are holding 0, 2, 4 or 6 seats for you!
So, we tried and tried to figure out a seating chart and all the possible permutations of classmates, distant relatives and political confederates. As you can see from the visual evidence on the right, we eventually hit a wall and - shamefully! - resorted to drowning our sorrows in fruity cocktails.
Keep us out of rehab! Send your postage-paid RSVP cards today!
(n.b., These fruity cocktails are not a preview of what will be served at our wedding reception.)
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Georgia On My Mind
This is not a political blog. Certainly the very subject of gay marriage touches on the political and we have occasionally waxed philosophical on current events and social relevance of marriage equality. But this is not a place for political musings, per se.
Except in this post, where I voice my wholehearted support for Russian dominance over pesky former Soviet republics. This might strike you as against my heretofore support for the plight of the Georgian people and my previous pronouncements of Russians as "sneaky" or "evil" or "drunks". But it will be more understandable if you realize that the Russians inevitably have their sights on Ukraine and you may remember that our dance instructor, Yuliya, is Ukrainian and as of last week it is my sincerest wish that Yuliya and all of her people suffer miserably in a Soviet gulag where they are forced to teach salsa to rhythmless orangutans with anger management deficiencies.
This is because Yuliya, during what I believe to have been a beautiful executed left-end leap into a well-structured twinkle, crinkled her nose with a look of disgust which suggested I had just shat directly onto her feet and said, in a tone unbecoming of a lady or educator, "Can you even hear the music?" This was promptly followed by a suggestion that from now on maybe Emerson should lead. Needless to say, Yuliya will not be invited to the wedding. And I am seriously considering launching an investigation into her credentials because in all my years of ballroom dancing I have never witnessed such an obvious lapse in judgment. This will only serve to inflate Emerson's already bloated ego as well as cause irreparable damage to my increasingly fragile self-image. I hope Yuliya is satisfied with herself.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
You Should Be Dancing - Yeah! (We Should Maybe Not)
Last night was the third of our five foxtrot lessons. On the upside, we have a routine! It involves such colorful elements as a left-end leap, a sway and a bunch of twinkles. Fortunately, the leap does not involve leaping, and the twinkles do not involve jazz hands (or fingers in any way); on the other hand, the sway is much more complicated than it sounds, requiring something called "arm style."
Another upside is that we get to wear our fabulous new shoes. There is mine on the right. Gorgeous, right? Thanks, Nordstrom Anniversary Sale!
So, you may be asking, what is the downside of our foxtrot lessons? Well, we are just terrible. Yuliya, our adorable, sweet, brilliant teacher, will never tell us so, but we can see it in her eyes. Her voice may be saying "Slow, slow, quick-quick!" But, her eyes are saying, "You dance like a pair of lobotomized rhinos."
The other downside is the flop-sweat. Gross, I know. We are guilty of some combination trying too hard, dancing too fast and raw terror. Perspiration is a vicious cycle, too - the more you worry about it, the faster it comes. Do you think Botox is a terrible idea? How about a Karate Kid-style headband? Yes, Sensei!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Parting Gifts
I hate terrorists.
Oh, I'm sure some of them are really nice if you get to know them before they blow something up. And certainly their mothers' probably think they're sweet. But those adoring maternal types might think differently if they realized how their terrorizing children are mucking up my perfect day. (You'll see why in a minute).
Now as many of you know, one of the customary wedding-y things is to give a little thank you for trekking all the way out here and buying us a place-setting gift to all of your guests. A sort of thank you for playing, you've been great sort of dilly. These are usually a) edible, b) emblazened with the couple's name and date, lest you forget who they are or to send them an anniversary present, c) breakable, or d) all of the above. Emerson and I, not wanting to be left out, have been agonizing over what to give. Weddings we've attended have had everything from candies, to flower bulbs, to custom beer bottles. But unless you own an engraving company that makes wedding trinkets, the cost quickly increases.
Plus, we have a pathological desire to be different.
And since everything else in this wedding seems to be homemade, why not the parting gift? We weighed our options and came up with, what I think is the coolest idea ever. Recently I've taken to pickling (hey, everyone needs a hobby). I've pickled everything I can get my hands on at the farmer's market and as far as edible, inexpensive, DIY gifts go, you can't go wrong with pickles! A mason jar, a cute hand-written label, a little raffia around the rim and voila! All you need is some fresh produce and penchant for boiling vinegar and you've got yourself a thoughtful, unique, and useful gift.
Except there are terrorists.
Since nearly everyone is flying and with the airlines getting all bitchy and beginning to charge for checked luggage, we're betting that a good number of guests will not be checking any bags. And since some jackass terrorist somewhere got the bright idea to hypothesize that he could make a bomb out of mixing liquids, guess what you can't bring onto a plane? Pickles. Which are floating in a sea of liquid.
So instead of spending the next 72 days slaving over a hot stove making pickles and jam that people are either not going to take or going to take because they are polite but will leave in the hotel room or are going to take but have them confiscated by the TSA, I'm going to bitch about how much I hate terrorists and their imaginary, hypothetical, unrealistic plots to destroy us, and the irrational, infantile, pointless steps our retarded government is taking to make me "feel safe" when in reality all it is doing is inconveniencing me and RUINING MY PERFECT DAY!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
A Little Soft-Shoe Gentle Sway
As you may have gathered, we are not having a traditional wedding. Well, let me rephrase that: we are having a traditional wedding in the sense that we are retaining all the important elements of the marriage rite that connect us to our religious and cultural heritage. We are not retaining a good portion of the frivolities that come with the matrimonial industrial complex such as cake cutting, wedding parties, DJs with microphones and the chicken dance.
However for some reason, which neither one of us can remember, we kept the "first dance". Probably because it truly is a first dance, since Emerson and I have never danced together. Ever. That's not how we roll.
But nothing we do is ever easy. Our song is not a Bryan Adams pop ballad; it is Gershwin tune from an obscure 50s movie musical starring Bob Fosse, so two dudes swaying back and forth with their hands on each others' hips like they're dancing to "Yesterday" in the gym at their junior prom ain't gonna cut it.
Enter Yuliya...
Last week we sucked it up and laid out a hunk of cash to Yuliya, a Ukrainian baby doll who is going to teach us how to Foxtrot and choreograph a little routine for us. It'll be like if Pasha danced with Dmitry, only if Pasha and Dmitry were ten years older, 40 pounds heavier and didn't know how to dance. If we were in front of the judges, Mary Murphy would be like: "The way you're moving into your moves like your fall-away split pivot over-spin into your throw-away? Is it working for me? No, it isn't. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to kick you off the hot tamale train."
Anyway, as you can imagine, there are, um, problems. Mostly with Emerson. First of all, I know a thing or two about Dance. I took ballroom dance classes in college and used to go salsa dancing in grad school (read "used to go" as "went once"). Emerson, on the other hand, has two gigantic left feet. So with my loads of experience and Emerson's lack of talent, I am a natural choice to lead.
But all of you astute readers out there are saying "Wait a sec! If you lead, doesn't that mean Emerson has to follow?!" Oh yes, boys and girls. It does. And I'm not convinced Emerson has followed anything in his life. Instructions. Directions. The clearly marked trails in the woods. Yuliya is not convinced either. We're trying to practice our one-two-quick-quicks and he's dragging me around, looking over his shoulder, paranoid that I'm going to dance him into a chair. And I just might do if he continues to be such a bad dancer.
So if we survive these dance lessons which are clearly a metaphor for our relationship vis a vis trust, control, communication and compatibility, we will have an awesome first dance. If not, one of us will clearly end up dead.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Howard Beale Moment
I am not going to bad-mouth our caterers in public. Seriously. They are almost certainly the best caterers in this area, and they are going to do a great job. They make damn good food; they understand and play along with our crazy ideas (e.g., heritage pigs); and, they know how to get the details just right in achieving a beautiful event.
But, as you may know, we were having some problems. It was like pulling teeth to get the clear, detailed answers we needed to keep our budget under control. We felt nickled-and-dimed by unexplained surcharges and exorbitant bartending fees, among other things. We were losing trust, not to mention our savings. To be frank, we contemplated postponing or canceling the wedding for fear of going too deeply into debt.
Finally, yesterday, we channeled our frustration into action. In a very firm but very clear way, we delineated exactly what expenses we refused to pay. We requested the discounts to which we felt entitled because of reserving the date so early. We insisted on a complete, clear, detailed spreadsheet of charges. We insisted that the catering staff coordinate more closely with the farm staff to find cost savings, such as eliminating unnecessary rentals.
You know what?
It worked. Just by doing the bold, grown-up thing, we have shaved at least 10% off the cost of this wedding, all in a matter of minutes.
On the one hand, it feels great to have "beaten" the system that takes advantage of every couple's desire for a perfect, magical day. But more importantly, it feels good to have taken responsibility for getting what we needed, putting our concerns first and communicating clearly.
Now, maybe for the rest of the week, I want to take on the world, with the voice of Peter Finch ringing in my ears: "You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, Goddammit! My life has VALUE!'"
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Breathless Anticipation
So, we set out a work plan, and it did us a world of good. We made a lot of progress, but there are still many open questions, and we are 128 days (gasp) from our wedding day.
We haven't blogged in a couple of weeks because we like to wait until things are settled, and right now, almost everything is in a state of uncertainty.
As promised, here is an update on our objectives - I hope this doesn't give you hives as it gives me:
1. Invite the officiant by May 2. Status: Almost settled. Officiant invited in a long, emotional conversation. Officiant accepted invitation, but there are some lingering complications involving the superior of his religious order, and some very valid concerns about public perceptions. This is "settled enough" but of course we are praying very hard that we don't end up with no officiant at the last minute.
2. Hire a DJ by May 22. Status: Complete! And we are thrilled with the young, cool, enthusiastic DJ we found at a price almost half of the "prestige" DJ that our caterer suggested.
3. Plan Ceremony Music by May 22. Status: Totally unsettled. We spoke to musicians for the first time last night, and not only are they more expensive than we hoped to pay (for students, no less), but it's not certain that they can fulfill our musical wishes. On the other hand, this may be a case where compromise is totally acceptable. In other words, it will be awesome to have a brass ensemble, even if they play more traditional music than we would prefer.
4. Walk-Through with the Tent Guy on May 23. Status: Limbo. We had our walk-through, and it was not a happy day. The tent guy had utter disrespect for our money and our budget, which was quite disturbing. He and the caterer seem to think that we need to rent a $1,200 outhouse, and separate chairs for the ceremony and the reception. We are still awaiting a quote that was due last week. This is either going to turn into a tooth-and-nail fight to protect our budget, or we are going to have to betray the caterer (whatever, this is business) and go with another rental company altogether.
5. Design and Print Invitations beginning May 28. Status: Good progress. We had a really fun meeting with the designer and artist who are working on this project, and they were both exactly as enthusiastic and creative as we hoped they would be. The "edition" that will come in the envelope is going to be really cool, and the invitation itself is going to be beautiful. We even visited the paper supplier, and discovered that paper is going to be really affordable! Our next step is providing the final text for all the pieces so these guys can get to work.
6. Book the Buses by June 1. Status: Complete! Our guests who stay in downtown Durham or in the Hillandale area will be able to enjoy themselves with abandon since they have a ride to and from the wedding. As this was the subject of my worst nightmare earlier this year, I am relieved to have this task finished.
7. Finalize the Menu by June 6. Status: Incomplete but not urgent. We have been in ongoing communication with the caterer about the menu, but really it does not need to be finalized until a few weeks before the wedding. The pigs, as you know by now, are secured, though we still don't know how much we're paying - presumably about two or three times the budget, given the pattern we've seen. And, we need to decide if we are going to serve fried hors d'œuvre, since those require special rentals.
8. Get a Florist by June 30. Status: Incomplete and getting urgent. You know we want to keep this simple, and our moms are going to help out a lot. Michael spoke with one farmer who said, "Sure," but I hope we can get a more secure agreement and a freakin' quote. Why's it so hard to get a quote here? Is everybody in North Carolina secretly rich?
9. Figure out the Bar by August 15. Status: Good progress, with a bump in the road. Here's the bump: we thought that by providing our own hard liquor we could save money. Au contraire! Not only are we required by law to provide and deliver our own liquor, but we also have to pay $4 $5.25 per pour for cocktails! Where I'm from this is known as a "scam." In any case, it helped us plan the bar! One hour of butlered cocktails is it. And, we're doing well on the wine selection. I believe we actually have delicious, affordable wines picked out, and the incomparable (if slightly tacky) Total Wine & More is giving us a case discount on specially ordered magnums. Finally, somebody willing to help us out!
After writing this list I have to tell you I am more than a little bit tempted to lump the catering, the rentals, and everything else and turn this wedding into a backyard barbecue picnic. That would be equally fun, right?
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
My Favorite Email So Far
Now, it's obvious that I'm as easily delighted as I am annoyed. And you know that my stimuli are different than other people's stimuli.
I hope our caterer won't mind my posting this note she sent to our farmer/friend, and cc'd us:
I just got off the phone with one of our chefs (the pork guru). And, he said that for 105 people we would need two 60-pound hogs. Does this sound alright to you? We would want it delivered to our shop on Wednesday October 8th, sometime that morning. He said if you could cut it up in primals, that would be ideal (said you would know what that meant).Truly one of the most exciting things I've read this year!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Tableaux Vivants
In the perpetual effort to do something unique - have I mentioned that I am very competitive? - the issue of long vs. round vs. square tables keeps cropping up.
Long banquet tables are very hot right now. They have a dramatic look and good symbolism, with everyone sitting together like Medicis in their piano nobile. It would seem that they are more expensive, because you have to rent more long tables than round tables to seat the same number of people. I also assume the long linens are more expensive, because the whole rental system is designed to punish you for having ideas. And, you need more flower arrangements for this to look right.
The other trendy thing to do is to mix square tables (eight-tops, as any waiter would say) with round tables. You get a good visual impact thanks to the variety, and you retain the flexibility of those round tables, which can seat 7 - 10 people.
Finally, what is probably the sensible thing to do, is to stick with all round tables and to be creative with the tabletop decor. Rounds have lots of room for "tablescaping" with flowers, lanterns, and other stuff.
The real complicating factors here are budget and space. I have planned countless catered affairs before, but they were gala fundraisers with huge budgets. And they were in New York. The circumstances here are so different, it's like starting from scratch. And our caterer is so accustomed to working with wealthy clients that she hasn't been very detailed or concerned with budget issues; her estimate didn't even show the rentals itemized.
I guess when we do our rentals walk-through in two weeks, we'll have to demand three separate, detailed estimates, and we'll try to maximize. I just hate having these ideas hanging out there in the purely theoretical realm, when we have only 5 months left. ACK!!!
Friday, March 28, 2008
A Butcher, a Baker . . .
Several important developments this week have driven us even farther down the artisanal-sustainable-local path than we expected to go with this wedding.
You already know that our invitations will be designed and printed by two of our most creative friends, Anders and David. My mom has volunteered to arrange the centerpieces, a task for which she has demonstrated her considerable talents--and we hope to strike a deal with an organic farm in Pittsboro to supply the flowers.
But here's the new news: homemade cupcakes and heirloom pork!
Our fabulous, beautiful friend Amy is not only distinguished by her generosity as a cat-sitter and her infectious Kiwi pride, but she is also a distinguished graduate of the pastry program of the French Culinary Institute.
Now, I can bake. Lord knows I can bake. But I cannot make it pretty until it gets in your mouth and you forget what it looked like in the first place. I had considered making the cupcakes despite the warnings from every side (I am foolhardy), but I wondered if I could live with them being less than beautifully finished.
Enter Amy, who has enthusiastically agreed to help with the baking and the decorating. Not only that, but has offered to practice her buttercream dahlias in the intervening months so that our dessert will not be the least bit amateur but quite extraordinary. Proof of her skill is in the photo:
Having Amy's advice and counsel throughout the planning and baking process will be undoubtedly invaluable. Thank you, Amy!
As for the meat, we have been buying delectable turkeys, chickens, and ducks from a tiny farm run by a lovely family in Orange County, and they recently announced that they have formed a cooperative venture with their (rather amazing) neighbors to produce pork as well.
Today we got a delivery of chicken from Fern Hill, and I casually mentioned that we would love to find a local pig to serve at our wedding reception, and Nancy was totally on board with the idea! In fact, she suggested they could raise a pig specifically for the occasion, and that there is enough advance notice to grow it to the ideal size for our dinner. Out of respect for the most urban among you, I'm not going to say what the Tamworth heritage pigs are fed, but it is a thousand times healthier than industrial feed and literally comes from the neighborhood.
Of course, this means that will be barbecuing it, not pan-searing rib chops with fancy French sauce, but it also means we will use virtually the whole pig with a minimum of waste and expense of energy for transportation (90 pork chops might require 12-15 pigs).
Nancy casually mentioned that we could even slaughter the pig as part of the wedding. I demurred, as you can imagine.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Please Don't Stop the Music (If You're Just Gonna Start Talking)
We have decided--barring any wonderful surprises--that we won't have a band during the reception. Our fantasy of a jazz-influenced bluegrass ensemble that could deftly handle an Ira Gershwin number and a bit of indie pop . . . well, we let it go.
Settling on a DJ is starting to look like a difficult task, too. On the one hand, we'd be content to plug in an iPod. Our playlist is all but done already. We don't want a DJ who thinks that the Chicken Dance is not a horror. We don't want to be announced like boxers entering the ring. In fact we don't want the DJ to talk at all, or even to choose the music.
On the other hand, we surely need a DJ. Someone to set-up and operate the AV equipment. Someone to turn down the music, turn up the mic, and hand it to whomever is about to toast us. Someone to tweak the playlist just a little bit, should we need to get some bodies moving.
What we need is a DJ who has good taste and the good sense to blend in. A minimalist DJ. You can imagine that we'd have a friend who'd be perfect for the job, yet we don't. Something tells me this is going to cost a lot more than it should.
Oh, and if you happen to know the world's coolest, most flexible little bluegrass band, you can be sure we haven't relinquished that dream entirely.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Country Roads
We took Michael's parents out to the farm on Monday, which turned out to be a gorgeous, sunny, 70-degree day. I could tell they had misgivings before we left. Perhaps because we had forewarned his mother and sister that they should wear closed-toe shoes to the wedding on account of the goat poo. But when Michael's dad stepped out of the car, he said, "It is gorgeous out here!" One parent down, three to go!
Elodie Farms is a real, working goat farm. It's not a stage-set for rural fantasies like le Petit Hameau or this place in Apex. That means there are live animals and they poo right where they're standing. They also make noise and smell . . . um, earthy. It may be a bit too rustic for some tastes, but I find it irresistable.
The family warmed up to the rustic setting very quickly. Thanks undoubtedly to the lovely weather and the pretty drive through the hills of Durham County's old tobacco country. Thanks as well to the abundance of adorable baby goats, stumbling all over the property.
This is an exciting time of year because February is kidding time. Anne, who operates the farm along with its owner Dave, says that they expect 75 kids this month. That means lots of nursing mothers, which means lots of goat milk, which means marathon hours of cheese making. Hopefully some of that cheese will end up on the buffet at our wedding. We are nuts for the stuff, and it is hard to come by. Last fall we tasted their Goat Gruyere melted over French onion soup--divinity in a bowl.
We are also hoping that the new barn will be built in plenty of time for the big day. The old barn is coming down now, though its half-demolished skeleton looks no worse than the shambles it was. Dave and Anne are assembling the financing they need for the new construction, which will be able to accomodate more guests for their renowned monthly dinners and weddings like ours, as well as meetings and retreats. It will also have a new dairy and a cheese kitchen. I hope that our commitment to them and the guarantee of future business earns them points on their loan application!
After cooing and admiring the kids, and watching Gunndi gleefully run around with the farm dogs, Michael's mother and I took a look at the farmhouse porch where we plan to have the rehearsal dinner and the cocktail hour. It's a 100-year-old house with graceful proportions and lanterns that hang from the eaves in front. A bit run-down but undeniably quaint. One of the dogs had left a rather mutilated carcass--some kind of mammal--right on the step. I think that tops the list of unwanted wedding gifts. Michael's mom may require a little more persuasion than his dad.
Wear those closed-toe shoes, ladies!
