Tag Archives: photography

The Wedding, Part 4: The Rehearsal

For “The Wedding Part 1,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 2,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 3,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 5,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 6,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 7,” click here.

It’s Friday July 23rd, the day before the wedding. It’s about 5pm. Dave, the groom, has just entered the church. His brother Andrew is flanking him and . . . I mean, come on, how often do you expect me to point out his little “staring down the camera” shenanigans? His overwhelming consistency is really quite amazing, considering these pictures span 3 days of flurried activity. You’d think with his brother getting married there would be other things on his mind, and yet as soon as my camera popped out, the death stare was brought out at the blink of an eye. I don’t know whether to commend him or punch him. Any views on the matter?

After a long day of decorating and making emergency bathing suit purchasing runs, finally, we all headed to the chapel area. It was time to get these proceedings a-crackin’.

The “a-crackin'” involved a lot of standing around at first. We stood around in the foyer area . . .

. . . and we stood around in the chapel, too.

But I wasn’t complaining–it was a great opportunity to take another 5,000 pictures.

And snuggle a little with my sweetie.

Among those 5,000 pictures there were cute shots of Erica and her friends Dani and Rowenna, Erica and her new in-laws, Erica hamming it up with Dad, Erica looking adoringly at her soon-to-be husband . . . Erica, Erica, Erica. Man, she was getting all the attention. If she weren’t the bride, I might have had to intervene with some older-sister attention-recovering tactics the likes of which I haven’t had to resort to since I was 10 and Erica was in a movie.

Erica was just glowing.

After the green photo that I posted yesterday of Wendy, Erica’s new mother-in-law, I hope to redeem myself today by showing how cute she looked. Dang.

In fact, both mothers were looking wonderful.

Mom and I posed, and a disembodied hand came to rest on my head.

I love this shot of Howard (Erica’s new father-in-law) and Nicole, his daughter:

And here’s a good one of Rowenna, one of the bridesmaids, and her husband Randy:

My husband and Randy spent some time bonding, doubtless over something academic. Don’t they look thoughtful?

Brilliant things were said, I’m sure–just brilliant. Good job with the whole PhD thing, you two. It makes me proud.

Heidi was wearing these fabulous shoes. If they had been 1 size larger, I would have ripped them off her feet and run from the wedding shouting in victory. Heidi, you’ll never know what a close call that was.

Here are Heidi and The Bun with Mike . . .

Here, they appear to be plotting something sinister. I wasn’t cool enough for them to let me in on the plan, though.

We managed to snag the bride for a little 3 sisters shot:

Dave worked on finalizing a few things with the minister. Here, he was saying “So, just don’t forget the whole ‘kiss the bride’ part, OK? I really want to get to the ‘kiss the bride’ part. In fact, could we work a ‘kiss the bride’ into both the beginning and the end of the ceremony? Whaddya think?”

The minister was having none of it. “Get out of here, you love-obsessed crazy boy!” he screamed. And that was the end of the rehearsal.

Heh heh, gotcha, didn’t I? No, seriously, the wedding went off with only one “kiss the bride”, though how prolonged it was and how “French” it was I shall not discuss. At all.

The crowds were beginning to get impatient, so a stand-in bouquet was shoved into Erica’s unwilling hand.

I love these pictures of Erica and Dave entering the chapel and walking down the aisle. Everything about it screams “this is right.”

I mean, do you see the expressions on their faces? It’s something to behold. Pure, God-sent love.

The rehearsal was officially under way. We practiced walking. I haven’t thought that much about putting one foot in front of the other since I learned how to walk.

Dad was getting a little emotional walking Erica down.

I cried about 4 times more during the rehearsal than I did during the wedding. I knew the small and kindly gathering of empathetic relatives at the rehearsal wouldn’t mind if my nose became the color of a Santa suit and inflated to twice its regular size.

As the snot poured down my nasal passages, I realized this was it: Erica was really getting married.

The parents practiced coming up front for the prayer:

They practiced the foot-washing . . .

And Andrew . . . oh, Andrew. Check him out between the pastor and Dave.

Can you believe this guy!? Erica and Dave, if you want a good copy of this picture I can eliminate him via Photoshop. I’m thinking a little “Gaussian Blur” layer mask will take care of those relentless, staring eyes.

Here’s Mary Beth, looking beautiful . . . it’s good to know I can count on her to look good. Mary Beth, I hope you never break my trust.

Back to Heidi:

After running through the ceremony twice, we were all starving. Thankfully, the little wedding gnomes had laid out a beautiful spread in the cafe area of the church.

I love it when the wedding gnomes just show up and take care of things.

During the dinner, Erica and Dave presented the wedding party with gifts: ties for the guys, and pearls for the girls. It rhymes!

And I have to say, what a great meal–rice, asparagus, pork, salad, punch–mmmmmm.

The Wedding Part 5 forthcoming–Friday at the latest. Or the earliest. I haven’t made up my mind how efficient I want to be. But let me tell you–it’s the ones in which the bride dons her gear, and you don’t want to miss ’em.

The Wedding, Part 3: Decorating Drama

For “The Wedding Part 1,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 2,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 4,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 5,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 6,” click here. For “The Wedding Part 7,” click here.

I had grand plans of posting “The Wedding, Part 3: Decorating and Rehearsal Dinner”. It was in my days of great naivete, before I realized that would entail a 90-picture post. And 90 pictures in 1 post is just plain immoral. Unwieldly. Inappropriate.

Therefore, this morning I am bringing you only “The Wedding, Part 3: Decorating Drama.” The rehearsal is getting its own space and going up tomorrow instead; please register any complaints with Erica and Dave for being so ridiculously good-looking. If they had looked a little more hideous, maybe I would have taken less pictures in the first place.

So for today, it’s pictures of the extensive preparations. Both families pitched in so graciously to make everything come together. Aunt Jessie gets accolades, as usual, for being the mastermind behind the madness. Here she is in the background managing a regiment of silver candelabras:

. . . and a quadrille of flowers and utensils.

Wendy, Erica’s new mother-in-law, was looking lovely . . . though I think I overdid it on the “green” in my color balance–sorry Wendy. I hope you’ll give me a second chance.

My bad color balance made it necessary for her daughter to quickly intervene in order to boost her confidence back up. “Mom, you’re not actually green–it’s her camera!” she reassured her.

There is a lesson to be learned: don’t mess up your white balance or everyone will need immediate psychological help.

The large camera around my neck enabled me to free-flow through the preparations snapping pictures without doing any actual work. That’s the true reason I purchased the camera–to avoid laboring away at family shindigs. A few hundred bucks in equipment versus years of back-breaking toil? The choice was clear. In fact, this whole blog is a cover-up justifying my role as the family photographer so that I can continue my work-free policy in the years to come. (Sidenote: this is my life policy #2, #1 being the blackmail-free policy discussed in yesterday’s shocking post)

Brilliant, eh?

I mean, seriously, why else would I be blogging? It’s better than Erica’s erstwhile “I have to go the bathroom” cover-up act that she would pull when we were young ‘uns as soon as we all had to unload the dishwasher–she used that one for decades. OK, from about age 6 to age 10. Thankfully, as the oldest sister in residence at the time, I whipped her into shape and now she’s a hard-workin’ wife who made Molten Chocolate Cakes and Pastor Ryan’s Pasta Carbonara for her new husband just last week. But Dave, be warned, if it’s ever time to do the dishes and Erica’s like “honey, I have to run to the bathroom,” you have her number.

My husband and Mike, the dutiful brothers-in-law of the bride, worked their butts off. Laurels were placed on their heads to honor them.

Dad was hard at work carting around a vacuum cleaner wherever the need arose.

Heidi, Jen and I felt like we were cheating since our job involved sitting down and making all the place cards.

It was veeeeeery relaxing. Jen was a whiz with the scissors.

It all started off fun and games. I mean, how hard could it be to write some peoples’ names on some paper? I learned how to write names in kindergarten. Here I am, looking very self-assured with my little gathering of pens.

Oh, thou who is self-assured and over-confident! Hear ye, hear ye, you may be about to experience your greatest downfall! [Insert biblical saying with something about man, trouble, and the sparks flying upward!]

I was so upset by my own lack of calligraphy skills that I considered simply destroying the evidence.

However, that would have resulted in armies of confused guests hopelessly milling around. It’s a lesson I learned long ago: don’t mess with unassigned seating. Mass chaos = stampede alert. And nobody wants to risk a stampede when a bride donning an expensive white dress is involved. I don’t know if the dry-cleaning could get out those shoe marks.

Heidi’s calligraphy was just beautiful. She was also looking particularly beautiful. There may be a correlation.

Maybe I could get some funding and do a research study to prove that beautiful pregnant women named “Heidi” have an uncanny talent in the hand-writing area for making gorgeous loopy swirls and uniformly sized letters. That would also explain why I failed–my name isn’t Heidi and I’m not pregnant. See? Nothing is my fault.

There were some old, cold fries on the table right next to us. I’m sad to report that I was drawn to them like a magnet. They just looked so good that I managed to forget how bad they tasted, time after time, fry after fry. Please understand that failing at calligraphy was seriously distorting my judgment in these matters.

Kelsey artfully arranged piles of tulle on the cake table.

She also outdid herself by hiding a chocolate under each of the coffee cups at the head table.

The tables were really starting to come together:

Meanwhile, the boys worked on heavy lifting in the chapel. . .

. . . and messed with all things electronic.

Andrew made himself useful by untangling a mess of lights. I exulted because I had caught him in a full smile.

Priority #1 was making it to the hotel hot tub before it closed at 10pm. This necessitated an emergency run to WalMart and Kohl’s to purchase bathing suits for some bathing suitless bridesmaids. My weary body was just screaming for a hot tub. We met with great success: everyone was decently clothed for the pool time later that night. Thank you WalMart and Kohl’s for enabling a decent get-together free of rampant nudity.

I love that phrase–“rampant nudity.” I’ll try to work it into all my future posts.

While we were gone, much progress was made in the reception hall. We rejoiced that little worker elves had shown up and worked their magic in our absence. The head table was looking good.

We all got dressed for the rehearsal dinner. Getting ready for an event with other girls is always such fun! The make-up sharing, the giggles, the help with your unruly hair . . . Heidi worked on taming my frizz with Jen’s hair straightener.

Heidi and Mary Beth were looking gorgeous.

It was time to make everyone pose by the ladder. Mom dutifully settled in, looking sweet . . .

. . . but Heidi was disturbingly resistant, and decided to look like an alien instead. A cute, pregnant alien with dancer legs.

We had some time to kill, and there were all these fake flowers hanging ’round just screaming “props.”

It all started with some lovely shots, very proper etc.

But soon deeply ingrained genetic patterns for which we cannot be held accountable caused us to start posing in wilder and wilder configurations.

Bet you didn’t know I could look so frightening, eh? Well get a load of this:

I personally have chosen to hold the Maid of Honor responsible. She’s in charge of the ‘honor’ part, and yet our anything-but-honorable conduct gained no reprimand from her. She even posed with us. What a little instigator.

Rowenna settled into a tiny blue armchair to observe the proceedings from a safe distance. She chose wisely. I would like to take this moment to draw your attention to the stain on the chair to her right. The clues of history tell us that some child must have suffered from bladder control on that very spot.

And then, it was time for the Rehearsal to begin. See you tomorrow for the full account!