I won’t spend an outrageous amount of time rehashing our joyous day, though I certainly could (and want to). But suffice it to say that the day was absolutely perfect for us. The flowers and decor were gorgeous, the ceremony both personal and beautiful (and I’ve heard multiple reports of sobbing from both bridal party and guests). The food was reported to be “ridic,” and most of our 155 guests were rocking out to OPP before the salads even hit the tables. Some highlights:
- Nina breaking down in tears not yet halfway down the aisle, spawning a ripple effect of weepiness throughout the room.
- Truffled gnocchi served on teeny spoons
- Matt being unable to gracefully slide Nina’s wedding band onto her famously pudgy finger
- For many, the thrill of finding the Crown Royal behind the bar
- A party guest to remain unnamed nearly dropping Nina off her chair during the hora
- Hora vs. Pittsburgh Polka showdown (Jews vs. Poles: Pogrom this!)
- Nina’s brother, revealing a relatively humiliating childhood story within the first three minutes of his still brilliant speech
- No fewer than four intense dance battles over the course of the evening
- Chocolate banana bread pudding
- An overwhelming desire by many on the dance floor to “beat up the beat”
- The opportunity for some to shake actual polaroid pictures while the song was playing (I’ve heard it was once-in-a-lifetime, though to be honest I missed this one)
- Miniature puff pastries filled with gruyere cheese
- Discovering at the end of the last song that I can actually bend my body backwards nearly in half. Seriously, that was some dip.
I could go on, but I’ll spare you. Though on that subject, I will share one thing that I learned when we returned from the honeymoon (more on that soon, as I back-fill this blog). After spending two weeks with Matt rehashing the same wedding memories over and over again, I was thrilled at the idea of returning to recap anew with all of my friends. Evidently, not everybody wants to discuss the details of someone else’s wedding ad nauseam, let alone weeks later. Even my wedding-focused friends were good for just about one solid conversation. Turns out, the only two people on this planet who care to discuss it as often as I do are my mother and mother-in-law. They found this out pretty quickly and began talking at length on their own, and as soon as I got back I was compelled (happily, I’ll add) to do the same. So there are two morals to this story. Not only does marriage not necessitate the couple leaving the maternal nest, but it actually drives us back more forcefully than ever. And in the meantime, our families are automatically bonded by a shared desire to talk endlessly about a subject which is utterly tedious to everyone else they know. Nature works in mysterious ways.