Gabrielle and Raine Got Sealed

This is my second attempt at this post. Something went wrong last time, and my post failed to save--and then disappeared entirely. Completely gone. I couldn't find it in my history, and not one bit of it got saved in draft form. I spent a lot of time on it, and it was really late at night when I realized that all my efforts had disappeared into the mystical digital void. I believe that the only reason I did not pitch a very hefty fit and throw my laptop across the room was because I was listening to this newest ear addiction.



Listen to it with good headphones on.

Now buckle up, buttercup. Here we go again.

Last weekend, Gabrielle and Raine got sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. They are a very happy couple, and I am thrilled that my kind, intelligent, gentle daughter, who is the Queen of Witty Puns, chose a kind, intelligent, gentle young man who happens to think that her puns are very witty indeed.

The happy couple. They are well suited to each other, and I am very happy Raine is part of our family.

A marriage and sealing calls for a reception, and in our case, there were two: one here in our little burg, and one in Utah Valley, where Raine's family lives.

We held the first reception in my in-laws' back garden on Friday evening (the couple were sealed in the morning). It was so much better than trying to make a large church gym look like a wooded glen, or a tent, or the inside of a barn, or whatever crazy theme the bride has concocted in her matrimonially addled head. When they were handing out party-planning abilities in heaven, I accidentally stood in the pizza-and-a-movie-at-home line. Twice. I'd almost rather get sucker-punched in the mouth than plan and execute another reception, which is probably a bad thing when you end up giving birth to four daughters, am I right? The back garden just seemed more intimate. No basketball hoops, for one thing. Plus, nature can do the decorating when you're outside on a lovely day.

Or so I naively thought.

One does not simply tell my mother-in-law, "I'm not bothering with decorations for the reception, and we'll just serve root beer floats." Nor does one mention that same sentiment to one of the neighborhood friends who recently married off a daughter, who then mentions it to several other neighborhood friends who have also recently married off daughters. And my MIL just encouraged them.

Gabrielle herself did not care about decorations. She literally said to me, "I don't care about decorations. I don't know why you would worry about decorations. The important thing is that we're married and sealed." I wholeheartedly agree. But tell that to a British woman who has definite ideas about tradition--wedding tradition in particular. And I say this with all the love I have in my heart for her: she is a stubborn determined woman, bless her cotton socks.

Before I could say "my reception nightmare has begun," these well-meaning friends brought over yards and yards (and yards) of navy blue and red swathes of organza, battery-operated candles and lanterns by the dozen, extra tables, chair covers and sashes, boxes and bags of silk flowers and greenery, planter hooks, and more. I looked at the mountain of decorations these good women had lent me and sat down for a very long time to get over my sense of overwhelm.

One friend, Sam, who has two storage units full to the brim with wedding and party decor just because she absolutely loves decorating for parties, swept through the backyard to give me some suggestions. "I would put a really big flower arrangement here under the trees," she said, casually gesturing. "Just get a box and start shoving flowers and greenery in. It will look great!"She seemed so confident that it could be done that I hated to correct her assumption that I was the one who could do it.

We all find what we are made of when our backs are against the wall, er, fence. Dear reader, I am happy to inform you that after a sweaty mental hour or so, I attempted the flower arrangement. I was alone at the time. I was afraid. But I did it.

This is not a great picture of the final product, but I did manage to get it moved to the right spot and dress up the base before guests arrived the next day. It looked amazing. I also insisted that my family members, on an individual basis, tell me how amazing it looked. I think some of them actually did think it looked amazing--at least, that's what I'm going to tell myself.

To slightly shorten this long story, I'll just tell you that MIL and I managed to attach sixty-seven yards of blue organza to the fence and dress it up with big red bows. The chairs got covered and sashed, the food tent got more organza swags, clusters of flickering candles were nestled into the mulch around the tree trunks, and a set of incredibly generous women made and donated a slew of treats. Linnea, my friend and health coach, insisted on putting together some deliciously colorful fruit and vegetable platters. Others brought brownies, cupcakes, cookies, and more brownies. We had bought boxes of vanilla ice-cream, though we didn't even get through one box. The food tables groaned under their mouth-watering burden.

These are my pictures. They are amateur. There are no achingly beautiful close-ups of particular decorations, and I used no filters (mainly because the idea of using filters never occurs to me). These are not Insta-worthy in any way. Between you and me, I think that all the time and worry spent on the decorations was mostly a wasted effort. Who needs organza swags when you have that view?

Gabrielle and Raine got a bench at the end of the garden so they could sit down in between greeting the guests. 

Ladies and gentlemen, that's sixty-seven yards of organza right there. Imagine how fun it was to wrestle that wad all the way down the fence on a windy day. 

Treats my health coach does not approve of.

Treats my health coach put together. These fruit and vegetable platters thrilled everyone, including me. I ate a lot of orange bell pepper slices and snow peas. Yum.

Bonnie, one of my my in-laws' dogs, was Little Gary's best friend as long as he had a plate of goodies on his lap.

Nathan, Sian, and my grandson Tyler (who just learned how to crawl!). 

We accidentally ended up in casual dress for the reception. We all fully meant to set up and then run home and change, but it didn't happen in time. Who cares? We didn't. We were comfortable. Most of our guests also came in casual clothing.

The second reception was on Saturday afternoon at Raine's parents home. They were smart and didn't bother with any decorations, and they bought Costco sheet cakes and used the leftover food from Friday. I enjoyed not having to stress about anything other than showing up. It was a great party, and I made new friends amongst their friends and neighbors. Raine's parents adore Gabrielle, and my daughter is very lucky to have married into such a good family.

That's my report. It was better the first time, but I guess you'll never know now. Stupid computers. Anyway, I was so glad when it was all over, though I absolutely loved escorting my darling daughter through the temple. Right after they got married in Las Vegas, she developed an upper respiratory infection that took a sharp turn into serious pneumonia. It took her a few weeks to recover (and I spent a few days with her so Raine could go to work), but she got well enough in time that she could get sealed to her eternal companion. That's the important part. That's what I truly loved seeing.

And now, good night. I stayed up way too late again.