I don't know about anybody else, but as for me, on the morning of my daughter's wedding, when we have four million things to think about, two trucks and six cars to pack, flowers to haul, a huge wedding cake to transport, a barbecue for 120 to think about, and a whole wedding to decorate for, I like to wake up late and cook pancakes for 25 people.
At least that is what happened on the morning of Alisa's wedding. For six months prior to the wedding, the biggest concern on all of our minds was time, and how we were going to find enough of it on the day of the wedding. We rented out the wedding venue up Big Cottonwood Canyon for one day, which meant we had the place from 1 pm on Sunday to 11 am on Monday. In order to have time to drive up there, unload, set up, have a ceremony, have dinner, pictures and dancing, we knew time would be really short on Sunday So we decided months ago that by the day of the wedding, we would be all packed and ready to go, get up early Sunday morning and get up the canyon by 11 so that we could start setting things up outside. It was a really great plan, and totally doable. If only it had happened.
I have no idea what happened to our momentum. Why was someone not freaking out about the time? The trucks were not packed, nobody was ready, and it just seemed like we had all the time in the world. All that seemed important was making sure that everybody had a good breakfast that morning. We lounged. We ate pancakes and scrambled eggs. We relaxed and talked about how we really needed to be leaving soon. We ironed shirts. Dan and the guys were out buying beer. There was zero sense of urgency that morning. Every other event on our agenda went according to plan. We were on schedule for the shower, the basketball game, the flower party, the rehearsal dinner. But on Sunday morning, with the biggest, most important, most overwhelming event hanging over our heads, we dropped the ball. We didn't just drop the ball, we threw it out the window.
As a result, we got up to the venue about 1:30. Two and a half hours later than we planned. All hell broke loose as soon as we got there and thirty people started tearing around trying to get organized but mostly just getting in each other's way. It's funny now, and it turned out okay, but for the life of me I cannot figure out what I or Alisa or anybody else was thinking that morning as we sat around enjoying coffee and pancakes. We were just so dang relaxed.
I like to think that some higher power kept us home for a good reason. Maybe we really did need that breakfast or that time together before the craziness of the day ensued. Maybe we avoided a terrible accident by going later. Maybe maybe maybe. Maybe we just lost our heads for a bit. It is just a miracle that we pulled it all off as well as we did. In spite of the initial craziness, it came together beautifully for the most important parts.
The best part was the ceremony. They were married in the pine trees, to the sound of the rushing creek just behind them, by their friend Aaron who was there the night they met. The ceremony was partly in French, partly in English, and they each said their vows in the other's native language, so Alisa said hers to Erwann in French, and he said his to Alisa in English. Most of the music was French, but their recessional song was Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen. The whole thing was lovely, and I can't wait to see the video and pictures. And really, those pancakes were delicious.