Of orchids and eye-makeup

 So, I’m a big crab and I jump to conclusions and I should generally be condemned to life in prison. But not to death, because the dresses were still ugly and my dad said the eye makeup and hairstyle made me and my fellow-bridesmaid sister look like the girls in Robert Palmer’s “Addicted to Love” video.  

But other than that and some general crankiness from the bride and frostiness from the other bridesmaids (and a seemingly never-ending 2.5 hours between wedding and reception in which the bridal party was awkwardly locked in the bridal suite, sans alcohol, playing a me-inspired game of charades), my brother’s wedding was really beautiful. In my defense, the photographer was with us (to add to the awkwardness), and I thought charades would make for some fun wedding pictures for the new couple. And also, I had very little to say to most of the people in the room, the majority of which I’d known for only two days. 

We (most members of my family) were generally dreading the fact that they wrote their own vows because he can be… wordy… and odd to the point of it being painful for others. But I can honestly say that what he said to his bride was eloquent and thoughtful and, best of all, he really meant it. And when she struggled to fight back the tears as she spoke to him, it was really moving.
I bawled like a baby. Apparently, it was very noticeable – to the point that the photographer noted to me that he took my picture whilst I was crying. Thanks for the solid, dude. Appreciate it. 

The crowd was blocking my view of the samurai sword cake-cutting, and I was pretty busy babysitting my drunken mother to see how that went, but I assume it went well because there were no huge gasps or guffaws from the crowd.  While the flights generally sucked, some fun was had over the weekend, including singing “If I Had $1 Million” during the rehearsal dinner with my brother and sister (we’re total geeks), taking silly photo-booth pictures at the Queen Mary with my sister and dad and moping over breakfast every morning with same dad and same sister. 

Things I won’t want to remember include the crippling cough and Kermit the Frog voice (which still did not keep me from the karaoke stage), the hangover after the rehearsal dinner, not eating all day on Saturday so as not to mess up the makeup that was professionally applied at 9 a.m. (I thought it was only the bride that had to suffer like that), the ridiculous flights and equally ridiculous seat mates, the drunken mother, the chilly weather, the exhaustion (I never really adjusted to Pacific time from Eastern) and missing my husband and daughter. 

But I hope I will never forget standing on that bridge in the Japanese gardens at Long Beach State, looking at my brother as he promised to love his bride for the rest of her life and realizing that he is a wonderful, grown-up, honest, loyal and loving man.