Eleven years ago today I married my husband. It wasn't a legal marriage, in the sense that it was not recognized by the government. However, we did get married in a church, and I defy anyone to tell me our wedding wasn't recognized by a much higher power.
But this isn't about getting on my political high horse. This is about love, and a wonderful man, and a beautiful day eleven years ago...
What a day. I think of all the planning that went into it. Typical list: the church, the reception, the dinner, the invitations, the flowers (blue hydrangeas), the photographer (Tracey Landworth she's brilliant, check out her link), the wardrobe, the band (Eddie Watkins Jr & The Go Big Daddy Band, also stupendous), the seating arrangements, the cake, the open bar, the 150 guests, and our biggest splurge, the white chocolate place cards.
Our families arrived before the ceremony to take pictures. This one is just brimming with racial harmony!
Here's my baby and I after we tied the knot. It was the most fun I'd ever had. It was Mari, our very good friend who passed away this last October, who suggested we both walk down the aisle to Tuck and Patti's Takes My Breath Away (if I knew how, I'd have it piping in as you read this). We crafted what the ceremony would be, we wrote our own vows, and there was a built in audience who had to listen to every word. What more could two actors hope for.
For our seeming unconventionality, the event had its recognizable elements: saying I do, the first dance (Dinah Washington's What a Difference a Day Makes), bride drunk off her ass and tripping down the stairs. Slice of cake anyone?
Tracey incorporated a photo booth at the reception. It was a blast, and as you can see, it got pretty trashed by the end of the evening.
I love looking back on that day. I love the wonderful friends and family who shared it with us. And I love the man who chose Cinco de Mayo as our anniversary.
Happy Steel Anniversary Darling.