This Is Why People Hate Weddings

I wasn't completely honest in my previous post, but it was a sin of omission rather than a boldfaced lie. In addition to stitching till my hands and forearms cramped, reading an alternately dull and foppish book, and working my poor little fingers to the bone, I attended a circus - I mean, a wedding - on July 11 in my grandmother's hometown of Richmond, Virginia. The omission of wedding coverage was out of concern for the feelings of a friend of mine who happened to be a Maid of Honor at the event, is miraculously still friends with the bride, and reads this blog. However, this afternoon, she mentioned that she was anxiously awaiting Rosie's review. I reminded her that I am not always diplomatic or sparing; she acknowledged this and grinned at me. So, now that I have her approval, I present for you a thorough review of what may have been the most ostentatious and pompous wedding I have seen to date.

Let's begin with some background, shall we? In my adulthood and as of the time of this writing, I have attended no less than 15 weddings; I have donned a bridal gown for 1 and a bridesmaid's dress for 3, and have experienced the behind-the-scenes drama of 2 more either as a Reader or as Wife-of-Best-Man (once both). To say I know my way around an altar and a reception venue is putting it mildly. I have seen a bride hurl a phone against a wall in frustration with an almost-in-law, I have heard the Thong Song played at a reception (and danced to it!), I have participated in a post-wedding roast of the bride and groom (if you must do this at your wedding, do it while your guests are sober!), I have seen a candelabra-topped bellydancer perform during dinner, I have seen guests in black fringed leather motorcycle chaps, I have heard the THWACK! of a golfer teeing off in the middle of a country club ceremony, and I have witnessed too many drunken wedding toasts to count. Someday, I'll invite you to pick up a copy of my best-selling tell-all, All My Dresses.

The pomposity started early. I met the bride, let's call her "Adina*," in college while she was rooming with my good friend, "Ruth." Ruth and Adina have been best friends for the almost ten years I've known them, so it was natural and expected when Adina became engaged that she would name Ruth as her Maid of Honor. And she did... as one of two Maids of Honor. The other was "Carmine," Adina's post-college roommate and "best friend." Don't ask me how many best friends Adina has; my guess is that she'd turn to just about any friend and call them her "best" if the need arose. One of those ends-justify-the-means sort of things. I stopped calling people my "best" friend years and years ago when it occurred to me that prioritizing friendships felt wrong, and I developed blunt disdain for the phrase when "BFF" came into popularity and completely cheapened the sentiment. But I digress. Ruth and Carmine were actually among a retinue of ten - count 'em, TEN - bridesmaids, consisting of cousins and, I guess, lesser friends. (At my wedding, I had five bridesmaids total and considered that to be pushing the limits of good taste.) Matching these ten bridesmaids would be - of course - ten groomsmen. Yes, with the bride and groom, that's 22 adults in the wedding party alone.

I'll gloss over the year-and-a-half of planning that went into this event but I will mention just a few sideshows before we get to the center ring, including that Adina had two bachelorette parties, and a catered bridal shower that cost more than $800.

We received the Save the Date about a year in advance. A word on Save the Dates. This is a custom that originated some while ago to allow out of town guests to make any necessary travel arrangements in advance in order to get the best deals. In recent years, it has morphed into a way to have people essentially bookmark your wedding date on their calendar, so it's an invitation-before-the-invitation, not to mention it bears the unfortunate acronym in wedding circles of STD. What I don't understand is, if you're essentially telling people they'll be invited, why not just send your invitations a little farther in advance, because otherwise you run into the situation that Adina did, in which she sent a Save the Date to one person with whom she had a falling out later on, and thus did not send an actual invitation to said person, which is, frankly, rude. What if Person had made travel and hotel arrangements in order to go to the wedding? And while Person had no right to make the obnoxious comments she did at Ruth's shower, I must acknowledge her forbearance in not causing an ugly scene since Adina essentially made it plain that they were no longer friends. Future Brides of America, I beg you, save some cash and skip the Save the Date card except for out-of-town guests and/or unless your wedding falls on a day or weekend on which many people traditionally travel (e.g., federal or religious holiday), which might incite higher travel/hotel rates and occupancies if they did not book in advance. Otherwise, if you're that concerned that people might book a conflict on that date, send out your formal invitations an extra month early. And if So-and-so can't make your wedding, so what? Will you be any less married by the end of it? Remember, it is not YOUR date, but A date on which you happen to be getting married.

I will also mention that the invitation we received was no mere thick envelope, but an 11" x 6" box with a laser-printed address label stuck on the front. Inside the box... was another box, edged with gold embossed seals. Tucked inside the top half of that box was a gold lettered response envelope with gold lettered response card, and a gold lettered reception details card (namely, adults only and cocktail attire, even though I was later told that it was supposed to be an inch below black-tie). Inside the bottom half of that box was - would you believe? - a gilded and gold lettered SCROLL announcing the impending event, with a peacock feather tied into the gold tasseled cording square knot. They should have gone the extra yard and modeled the thing after those irritating musical greeting cards so they could have had a trumpet fanfare play as the box was opened. We were given the choice of Chicken Norfolk or Maple-Glazed Salmon as an entree for what would apparently be a plated meal. Ever heard of Chicken Norfolk? Me neither, but considering that Husband is allergic to seafood, we opted for the chicken as a safer bet.

Fast forward to July 11. We drove down to Richmond in truly awful traffic (there is no good time to drive 95, especially in the summer) and had a late lunch with Grandma, which was nice, went back to her house to change into wedding-appropriate clothes, and put our faith in Google Maps to get us to the church on time.

When we arrived, 15 minutes early, Adina and Daddy were in the classic car limo in front of the church, waiting for the ceremony to begin. I waved at her... and she scolded me to get inside because the ceremony was going to start any minute. I suppose a watch is not an appropriate accessory for a bridal ensemble, so we shrugged and went up the steps.

Once inside the doors, we had to fight to get to the pews through a sea of turquoise bridesmaids, lime green aunts, tuxedoed groomsmen, and other assorted family members. We took seats in an empty center pew towards the back of the sanctuary and took stock of the set up. It was a pretty scene at least, with the flowers and ivy and white chiffon draped over everything that would stand still. I deduct points for use of pew bows on awkward metal hangers on either end of every bench. The church was set up with three rows of pews with four aisles running between and around them. I saw some people in the pew in front of us skimming a program and wondered where we were supposed to have gotten those. Scanning the room (in lieu of a program) I notice umpteen photographers and videographers standing sentinel: there's two in the balcony, there's one of each to the left of the altar, a photographer to the right, there's one in the back... There's the groom and his two Best Men standing at the altar with the minister. There's Mama "Patsy*" in the back of the room spitting orders at people. Soft music is playing, but I can still clearly hear the minister, who was mic'd, making chitchat with the groom; I wonder that no one thought to turn the microphone off until the ceremony was due to start. The Best Men lit the candelabras, and, promptly at 5:00, the ceremony began.

The MC took the standing microphone and read a prepared speech about how crucial and instrumental the aunts of the happy couple had been in their upbringing. On cue, here came the parade of aunts, three down each interior aisle, clad in matching lime green dresses and each carrying an LED votive in a candleholder, spaced perfectly according to Patsy's very audible mandates. A friend of the bride (who must not have rated Bridesmaid level) was singing some song I had never heard of, but was entirely too long for the 50 ft aisles, so what they did to kill time was to meander down their respective aisles, cradling the LED candle as though it were a real flame, then walk around the front of the outer pews and up the exterior aisles on their side of the sanctuary, placing a candle in the recessed area in front of each stained glass window, then loop around to the back of the church where they began, and ambling down their assigned aisles again to take their seats in the front of the church. All that was missing was a glowing halo over each aunt's sainted head to complete the staging. No mention was made of any uncles, and I felt a little sorry for them.

After that, I believe it was Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring that the parents and grandparents walked to. The mother of the groom wore a chartreuse tea-length job, and the mother of the bride wore what appeared to me as a dingy ivory tiered floor-length thing with matching jacket, but I sincerely hope it looked better in better lighting. Everyone was dignified...except the groom's stepfather who must want his own talk show in a bad way because he strutted down the aisle, doing the gunpoint-fingers at the guests, slapping hands, waving, and stopping to give shout-outs as he went.

Then we had a musical interlude, or maybe it was the first go-round of Canon in D (it was replayed enough times to get the entire bridal party to the altar). Here came the ring bearer, then the flower girl, then the bell ringer (you read that right) who had to walk up and down every aisle in the place, ringing that bell like his life depended on it. After hearing Patsy's treatment of some of the participants, it may well have.

Now here come the eight groomsmen. The first two walk, in synch, all the way down the interior aisles, then stop at the edge of the center pew, with the arm next to the pew bent at the elbow and pinned at the small of their back, and the free arm bent and stuck out at the elbow and pinned against their stomach. The next two walk 75% of the way down and stop at the edge of either outer pew, making the same pose. The next two go 50% of the way down and pose at the edges of the center pew, and the last two go 25% of the way down and pose at the edge of either outer pew, creating a sort of zig-zag thing.

Now here comes the first bridesmaid who winds alone down one aisle, back and forth around the zigzag groomsmen until she reaches the first groomsman and takes his stuck-out arm. He then escorts her to the front of the room where she releases his arm, they face each other, and - no joke - he bows to her and she curtsies to him like they only just met, like they're about to begin a dance. How very twee. Then she takes his arm again and they walk another three steps to the altar, where they again let go and go to their mark on the floor. This repeats with each bridesmaid until all 8 bridesmaids and all 8 groomsmen are clustered - yes clustered, not lined up - in their respective corners. Now here come the maids of honor. Ruth goes first, walks at the expected measured pace to the front and center of the church below the altar, curtsies to the parents (still not kidding), and takes her mark at the top of the altar; then Carmine.

Now the doors close and there's another musical interlude, I think with singing. Hard to remember - it all kind of blended.

Now the bridal processional. And here comes Daddy escorting Princess Adina in her crystal-studded tiara and enormous ivory ballgown with the extended cathedral length train, and the veil that extended yet farther than the train. A note here about bridal parlance. "Cathedral length" is considered the longest standard length for a bridal gown. But that wasn't long enough for Patsy and Adina, and they specially ordered an extended cathedral train. She did look lovely, but I took a picture when Adina passed our pew, and then another when she was about three or four pews down and her train/veil had only just reached our pew. Hee.

Adina reached the altar (no curtsy to Patsy I noticed), her father raised the blusher (that's the part of the veil that some brides wear over their faces until the hand-off to the groom), she took the Groom's hand, and marched up the steps. Then there was a pause in the ceremony while the bridesmaids arranged Adina's train and Carmine did battle with the veil to get the entire business behind Adina's shoulders.

The ceremony was unremarkable except for the mutliple musical/singing interludes, the ever-intruding veil and ever-bunching dress (every time she moved, the train had to be re-fluffed and laid back down), and the fact that the minister could not pronounce the Groom's name right, no matter how many times he tried. In his defense, "Chanteyukan**" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue (nor off the fingers, ergo he shall henceforth be known as Chan), but you'd think he'd have practiced something he knew he was going to have trouble with. I did notice that, while the minister was mic'd, Adina and Chan were not, so while you could hear the minister's chitchat loud and clear, you could barely hear the couple's vows. I wonder how that will turn out on the video.

There was a lighting of the unity candle but the trigger-lighter that Chan's mother was using to light her parent candle was not working. After multiple attempts, Chan's father took it and managed to get the lighter going, and handed it back to Chan's mother (apparently only the mothers were allowed to light the candles; remember what I said about the uncles? Yeah, I felt bad for the fathers too). Of course, as soon as she took it, the flame went back out. He fixed it again, handed it back again, and, much to everyone's amusement, it went out again. So she tried Patsy's lighter; same deal. It turned out that she couldn't figure out to hold down the safety while also clenching the trigger. Finally they got the parent candle lit, and Adina and Chan were able to take their respective parent candles to light the unity candle. I must confess I was watching to see whether Adina's enormous veil would catch fire.

They concluded with a Jumping of the Broom, which is a traditional part of African American weddings. It's not a difficult concept to communicate (if you're unfamiliar, Google it), but the minister must have disagreed because he went on and on about the history and the various possible origins (any one would have sufficed!) and what it means and on and on. The Bride and Groom went down the steps and the broom was set out, and I was on all but my tippy toes to see if the enormous dress would cause the bride to collapse when trying to jump (I know, I'm evil), but no dice.

Yay, they're finally married! They exit the ceremony and one of the aunts says something about a small reception downstairs, but even in the back of the room, where she was standing and we were sitting, we couldn't hear clearly. So we got up and went out front where we talked with Ruth's parents for a few minutes before heading off to Ukrops to buy some champagne and roses. Ruth asked me on Friday whether I could do her a huge favor and bring her a bottle of Asti and some red roses so that she could decorate the bridal suite at the hotel where Adina and Chan would be spending the night. Apparently it's something Adina talked about while she and Ruth were rooming together. Mission accomplished, and we get back in the car and off we go trying to find the Jefferson Hotel where the formal reception was being held, but in my infinite wisdom, I did not include directions from that part of town. After many turns and turns and turns through numerically and presidentially named streets in downtown Richmond, we finally stumbled upon it (off of Jefferson Street, imagine that). Street parking was pretty easy, so we must have gotten to the hotel at about 6:30.

Now I've said before that I can recite the general blueprint of a wedding reception like my ABCs: Intro of the B&G, First Dance, Parent Dances, Open for Dinner, Dancing Begins, Cake Cutting, and Champagne Toasts. Since we were driving back to Fairfax that night, our plan was to make as inconspicuous an exit as possible once the dancing opened up, probably no later than 9:00.

The Jefferson Hotel is easily the nicest hotel in Richmond (don't correct me if I'm wrong), with marble floors and 50-foot ceilings, elegant staircases, and fine furniture. You can tell immediately that booking this venue cost a pretty penny, but the opulent effect was worth it. We entered on the first floor and the lower lobby, which conveniently happened to be where the cocktail hour was taking place. Ruth had instructed me to meet her there so we could do the hand-off of the Asti and roses, but a sweep of the floor showed she was nowhere to be seen. Slightly frazzled from getting lost, we rambled through the sea of wedding guests up the stairs to the second floor and main lobby, entreated the fine front desk staff to place the items in the bridal suite so that the Maids of Honor could later decorate the room, and slunk back downstairs to avail ourselves of free drinks.

Having fought our way to one of the three bar carts, I ordered a glass of white wine (Chardonnay; why did it have to be Chardonnay?) and Husband got a gin and tonic. Hors d'ouerves were served at various stations around the lower lobby, and there was a cheese tray and fruit and veggies, so even Husband could eat something, which was very good as I'll explain later. A live jazz band was playing, which was a nice touch, but was also a lot of loud and drowned out every word spoken between guests. Suddenly there was Ruth, stumbling shell-shocked down the grand staircase and making a beeline for me and Husband. She has apparently been held captive in Bridal Hell, and mutters something about dresses and bustles and Patsy and bridal suites. Without a word, I offered her some of my wine, for which she was enormously grateful though she looked like she could have used her very own bottle.

Soon after, we had the announcement of the happy couple, and here comes Adina and Chan descending the stairs, and I am nearly flattened by the throngs of people that ran up to them. Then there was posed picture after posed picture after posed picture. She never even saw us, I don't think. Husband and I got tired of crawling through crowds, so we got fresh drinks (another glass of wine for me, and a Sprite for him, since he was driving and would have wine with dinner and maybe the champagne toast, depending on time), and went and found a quieter corner on the second floor where we could hear each other but still watch everything downstairs.

It must have been 8:30 by the time the reception itself was announced. We go into the ballroom and find our table. Everything is white and gold and silver and turquoise. Centerpieces range from short bouquets to three-foot-tall floral sculptures. Big surprise, we're at the far back corner at a table full of complete strangers. Now, I try really hard not to criticize table arrangements because, having been there, I can sympathize with the inherent politics and the basic difficulties of just trying to make all the pieces fit, not to mention unforeseen obstacles to everyone's sightline such as structural support columns. But there we are in the back corner, two columns (each a yard wide) blocking us on one side, and one of those enormous centerpieces on the neighboring table blocking us on the other. We saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. It seems that our tablemates were all work colleagues of the groom's mother, and in truth, we had a fine time with them - all good natured and good humored. I think they understood why they were at the Nobodies table, but it seemed to surprise them that a college friend of the Bride would be tucked back there. As I understand it, we have Patsy to thank for the arrangements. In fact, we also have Patsy to thank for the Parade of Aunts, for the zigzag groomsmen, for the curtsying bridesmaids, for the clustered bridal party, for the bell ringer/flower girl/ring bearer (none of which Adina actually wanted apparently), and for Adina's hoarse voice on her Wedding Day, effected by too many screaming fights with Patsy the night before.

The MC gets his hands on the microphone and begins to introduce the wedding party. The guy must have an In with the folks at Roget's because he was playing fast and loose with the adjectives. One bridesmaid was described as "lovely" and "luscious" and "loquacious", one groomsman was "strong" and "silent" and "strapping," and one of the aunts - I remember distinctly - was written up as "amorous." Eeeeeeeeeew.

I suppose the Bride and Groom had a first dance, but I can't remember what to. I do remember that there were three rounds of "Unforgettable" played for the father-daughter dances. Plural. I think it was one each for her father and her two grandfathers, but they could have varied the songs. There was also apparently a video montage of the bride and groom being projected against a wall. We saw none of this back in our corner. At some point, we got up to try and see something of the video and - I kid you not - the scene I caught was of Adina running into Chan's arms in a botanical garden park. I sat back down.

Each place at the table was set with a gold charger, printed menu (just to inform; not that we were supposed to order from), silverware, napkin, a glass of water, a glass of sweet tea, and a wedding favor (mini bottle of Cook's champagne). Each table was scattered with turquoise-colored glass blocks, sort of like you might use in vases to stabilize flowers or candles. Each table was named for a gem; our table was Tempting Topaz. The MC informed the guests that each table was named for a gem because - brace yourself - each of us were gems to the bride and groom. Bleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Numbers at least let you keep your dinner down.

Speaking of dinner, remember how we both put our names down for Chicken Norfolk when we RSVP'd, whatever it was, because our other option was Salmon, and that's automatically out due to the seafood allergy? Perusing the menu, we learn what Chicken Norfolk is: a seared breast of chicken with jumbo lump crabmeat and Hollandaise sauce. Not only does that offend the seafood allergy, but also the egg allergy. Super. Served with the chicken are a fried green tomato (egg batter; not Husband-approved) and a wild mushroom rice pilaf (potential sustenance).

Salad was served first, with dressing on the side, so at least Husband was able to eat that. Then dinner was served, and of course, the crab and Hollandaise sauce were splat on top of everything so Husband couldn't touch his chicken or even his rice. So that the waiters wouldn't think there was anything blatantly wrong with the food, I made a decent show of eating half of each of our dinners. (As I learned later, the substitute meals were putrid. Ruth ordered a dairy-free meal to accomodate her allergies, but the frozen mixed vegetables she was served had been boiled until slimy, and mixed with chunks of tofu that - I don't know how they did it - were cooked to the consistency of a golf ball.) The chicken was pretty bland, and the crab was thin little strandy bits (so much for jumbo lump crabmeat). I will say that the fried green tomato was actually tasty, the mushroom rice pilaf seemed almost like it had some salt to it, and I liked the tea. After dinner came dessert. No not wedding cake, but peach cheesecake with raspberry sauce (also verboten for Husband, but at least he could decline outright) that I will say was quite good. If it weren't for those bits of cheese and crudite during the cocktail hour, Husband would have subsisted all night on a small pile of mixed greens and a few puny cherry tomatoes.

During dinner, various speeches were made and various dances were going on (I think Adina had some nice words for her grandmothers, and her grandmothers had some nice words in response, and then there were nice words to Patsy and Daddy, and Patsy and Daddy had to say nice words back and so forth). We didn't follow any of it. Since we couldn't see anything or anyone outside of our little isolated bubble, we just ate and talked all the way through.

With the cheesecake were served champagne flutes, so we figured the cake cutting and final toast must be coming soon and this must be the champagne to go with it. But instead, Adina's brother got up to make a speech and he's talking and talking and talking... It ended up being a cute speech but could have done with some serious chopping. And still no cake cutting.

Miracle of miracles, they open up the floor for dancing after that. It's 10:30 now and we were expecting to be out an hour and a half ago, so we shrug and decide to make our exit, cake be damned. (Ruth informed me that Adina and Chan never did ceremoniously cut the cake.)

Waste not want not, so we take sips of our champagne, but it's not champagne. It's Martinelli's sparkling apple cider - alcohol free. This utterly confuses me, especially when you consider that wine was distinctly absent from dinner, and when it was clearly written on the various invitation materials that this was an Adults Only Reception. There were the bar carts from the cocktail hour in an auxiliary room, but they were empty all through the meal. I can understand making it an alcohol-free shindig if the bride or groom or both is a recovering alcoholic, but Adina and Chan are certainly not recovering alcoholics. It's also an easy way to cut back if there is some unexpected financial disaster (in 2003, a friend lost his job just before the wedding so they cut cocktail hour back to a cash bar, but they still managed to serve wine with dinner), and while I understand that Chan's mother and stepfather pulled a bait-and-switch a week before the wedding (they shorted their promised contribution by $4000 as I understand), if they cut back on wine with dinner to save money, why did they have an open bar at the cocktail hour? And why did they open the bars back up when they opened the floor for dancing? We certainly don't need alcohol to have a good time, but the randomness of its absence and provision made it conspicuous. Anyway, we downed the cider and got our things, bid farewell to our tablemates, and began our escape.

Ruth caught up to us as we were slinking out the door and asked us to stay, noting that this was only a brief dancing interlude and that the Maid of Honor speeches would be coming after. Really? A dancing interlude bookended by bridal party speeches? I've never heard of brief periods of dancing - if the party is starting, start it already.

We left, but Ruth filled me in on parts of the rest of it, including what happened when the party did in fact start.

Apparently all the dinner and toasts and dancing interlude and eating of the cake (it was served but never formally cut) was considered the "formal" part of the reception. When that part was over, Adina disappeared briefly and then reappeared for the "fun" part, miraculously regarbed in a reception gown, and I can describe it for you here because Ruth sent me pictures. Now, changing into a separate dress for the reception isn't necessarily a new thing - bridal gowns are heavy, hot, and not designed for comfort, and many brides switch into a sundress or party dress that's less burdensome. But this was not a cute, light, summery white dress. This was the Incredible Morphing Dress, bringing new meaning to the term "two-dress bride" (traditional meaning here). What Adina chose as her "reception dress" amounted to a bright white knee-length body hugging number that you might wear to a cocktail party, except for the V-shaped drop-waist, the bunchy beaded detailing on the bodice and the, um, the train. Yes, the train, which went from hip to hip around her back and cascaded several yards behind her, ending in pretty crystal beading, as if it had once been the skirt of a real bridal gown. That's right. She had a train, but her shins were showing. It was like her hips had a cape. It effected the impression of an albino peacock. (Perhaps the invitation was foreshadowing?) Someone fluffed out the train as she entered the ballroom again, then - eyewitness account here - Chan grabbed the mic and yelled "Let's get this party started!" and - stay with me - RIPPED OFF THE TRAIN. Oh my damn, ladies and gents, the thing was VELCROED ONTO HER BUTT! She spent the rest of the reception dancing the night away... with a Velcro strip on her backside.

Now, my sources inform me that this wedding cost a whopping $60 Grand. $60,000. That's more than some of us make in a year. The irony is that, with 60,000 smackeroos to spend, it all seemed terribly misappropriated. Everything seemed to be done for Adina and Patsy's enjoyment; the guests' enjoyment was secondary. Two dresses (three if you count the attached train as making a third) please no one but the bride. Adina and Chan are vegetarians, so they didn't even eat the same things as we did. 578 speeches flatter no one but the Bride and Groom. The aforementioned alcohol debacle still mystifies me. The extensive draw-out and compartmentalizing of the reception confused us. And, perhaps the biggest breach of all, the bride and groom didn't come around to look us in the eye and thank us for attending. I get that there were a lot (LOT) of people there, but if there are so many people that you won't be able to hit every table, the polite thing to do is to set up the dreaded receiving line. Basically, it felt like they believed that as long as it LOOKED expensive and opulent, we'd be too impressed to see it for the hollow shell that it was. I don't know about the rest of the guests, but this "gem" felt like an extra in a Cecil B. DeMille picture: serving no purpose but to fill up the background and to make a more sumptuous impression to an on-looker. I sort of wish I could have had those hours back.

It wasn't awful, certainly. It was no Big Fat Redneck Wedding. But the best part of the day was still having lunch with Grandma.

*"Patsy" and "Adina" are certainly not the women's actual names. No person in this entry is referred to by a real name in order to protect the innocent, and to protect me from the guilty! Pseudonyms were chosen to convey a sense of the character involved, but "Patsy" and "Adina" create a bit of a problem. I wanted names that denoted sloppy ostentation and self-centered mischief, for which the AbFab pair certainly serve the purpose; however, they also imply a certain wacky charm that the Bride and her mother distinctly lacked on this occasion.

**"Chanteyukan" is of course not the Groom's actual name, but you'll have to trust me that the true name is at least as hard to pronounce as this. I had to look on a baby names site in order to find one of similar complexity. Don't ask me how his mother came up with the real name, but I have the feeling that a miscalibrated epidural played a part.

Where Has Rosie Been?

I've been here, of course. Just busy. But since I'm embarrassed that I've been so few and far between on my posts, I thought it would be a good idea to share some of my latest activities and thoughts and such and we can pretend I haven't left you all in the lurch for almost a month.

Stockings: When we were teeny, Mom made stockings for both me and Sister and it was something special to have a personalized stocking made just for you by someone you love. In a fit of insanity, I decided last year that it would be of the utmost brilliance to share that experience and make cross-stitched stockings for Husband and Husband's family too. I surprised Mother In Law with a stocking for Christmas last year, and as of this past Saturday, I finished the front of Husband's stocking as well (left; no his name is not Gabrielle). It took a solid month and a half of cross-stitching, sometimes up to 8 hours a day (I'm lazy on weekends), but I got it done and it turned out very nicely. But now I must call upon the myriad talents of Mom to complete it, since I can't yet sew a straight line with a sewing machine to save my life! I've got stockings to make for everyone in the family. My real stocking was red and white and had Santa on the front of it, but unfortunately, somewhere in my late teens when we seemed to be moving all the time, it vanished. It must be in a box somewhere in someone's basement or attic, but none of us are sure where exactly. I even got a new kit to make as a substitute for myself, but however pretty, it's just not the same, and the search for the Original continues. Next up: either Father In Law's, or Brother in Law's. However, I'm taking a little bit of time off to remind my hand that there are forms it can take other than Claw.

Work: Tomorrow is my anniversary with New Company, and that is very exciting to me, even though it will go unnoticed by everyone else. I've never been fired from a job, which is reassuring, but ever since Riggs, I've had trouble settling down. Nortel wasn't so bad until I was transferred to the Alexandria office and it all went to hell. Old Company had some great moments and great coworkers (some...), but there were too many late nights or overnights, too much disrespect, and too little quality management for me to stay, especially after Awesome Admin I left (CADDMan and Awesome Admin III, I still miss you!) I won't lie and say New Company is a dream job - it has its drudgeries, the commute is a disaster, it can be lonely, and it's a little too big for me to say with conviction to whom exactly I am supposed to report. But I've already been recognized for my accomplishments, I have mad respect from (many of) my teammates because I routinely save their butts, and - wonder of wonders - they allow me to work from home about half the week. Plus, looking down the line, they offer onsite day care (for a price, I'm sure, but I would bet it's discounted compared to KinderCare et al). So all things considered, I think I've found a place where I can set up shop for the foreseeable future, which is nice because Job Hopping is exhausting.

Reading: In January 2008, I embarked on an effort to read and appreciate more classic literature than I had done to that point. I acquired all of Austen, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights from the Brontes, and Nicholas Nickleby from Charles Dickens. I enjoyed most of Austen, with the exception of Emma, and concluded the sixth book - Mansfield Park - in May during our vacation in Jamaica. Jane Eyre was beautiful and stark and tragic and noble and everything it should be. I haven't gotten to Wuthering Heights just yet, but I've been trudging through Nicholas Nickleby for a while now. Dickens. Dickens is not among my favorites. Like Hemingway, he has a huge and devoted following; but like Hemingway, I just can't bring myself to be especially interested in him, his writing style, or his characters. In sophomore year of high school, we had to read A Tale of Two Cities. I got bored after his effort to take the title for longest continuous sentence ever written, and closed the book, but had enough of a grasp on history and had honed my BS powers to the point that I still aced the test. I seem to think I tried reading another of his works in another English class with similar success. A few years ago however, I rented Nicholas Nickleby from Netflix, starring Jamie Bell, Romola Garai, Christopher Plummer, Anne Hathaway and a score of other unparalleled performers; and was completely enchanted and charmed, even if Charlie Hunnam's performance bordered on fey, even by nineteenth century literature standards. I thought, if there is one Dickens book that I could point to and say I enjoyed, this would be it; and I set about reading the novel. To my very great distress, I found that the movie was merely an adaptation of the story, and that the similarities between the movie and the book pretty much ended at the characters' names. The characters are cartoonish in their exaggeration, the prose is overly wordy, and he simply does not have the ease, wit, or compassion for his characters that Austen does. Nevertheless, I am nothing if not stubborn, and I WILL finish this book. And, always looking for that silver lining, it is the best sleep aid I have ever encountered.