I got back Sunday afternoon from the wedding of Steve and Melissa, in Charlotte, North Carolina. Mike and Vicky and I drove up (more specifically, Mike drove, Vicky and I entertrained ourselves in many ways).
The wedding weekend was great. The weather was chilly but beautiful. We stayed at the Marriott, and the rooms were lovely, great beds, showers, decor, and reasonable.
We got there Friday afternoon, and went to the groom's parents' house for a barbecue rehearsal dinner. Actually, there was no rehearsal, but lots of wine and fabulous barbecue. The house was huge and decoreated in fantastic eclectic antiques, paintings, pottery. The party itself was held in an outside area which was tented in. The heaters were few and far between, but we all managed to stay warm, migrating into the house for another libation when we got too cold.
After sleeping one party off, the next morning was a wedding brunch given by the groom's aunt uncle. Omelet station, eggs benedict, cheese grits and shrimp, mimosas, bloody marys, screwdrivers, tenderloin and ham. All this with the wedding to come in the evening.
That evening was cold again. The wedding took place outside, in the same place that the rehearsal dinner had been. Wonderful, again. Beautiful short ceremony. The bride, who is gorgeous to begin with looked so beautiful. Her sisters had done her hair and she wore a $129 Isaac Mizrahi gown from Target (the one in the illustration). Melissa's slim and looked great in the dress. Now both sides of the family have money as do the bride and groom in their own right. So this was a decision consciously made. And she couldn't have looked better if they'd spent thousands.
A few lovely toasts "the first time I took Melissa out, I knew we were dating. It just took her eight months to realize it," said Steve.
It was wonderful meeting both sides of the new family, as well as lots of their old friends. What a great celebration.
So the drive up Friday and back Sunday was a bit much, but I got to read the Sunday New York Times and work the puzzle on the trip back. We also listened to James Patterson's Sam's Letters to Jennifer on audiobooks. I was afraid it was going to be blood, gore and serial killers. Sadly, it was not. Instead, it was a calculated, treacly tear-jerking mess. I kept busy waiting for it to redeem itself somehow. No such luck, but it did pass the time.