Goes Somer * Goesomer * Gossamer

I survived the wedding.

It was good. Great. I didn’t have to tailor the dress. My sister-to-be-married found a grey dress in her closet that was nice and matched and was sent to a regular tailor. Yay!

We took Natalie and Danielle soon to be sister-in-law’s child to a petting zoo, which was adorkable. Then the air and space museum which Natalie loved. That night, there was the making of deserts for the wedding and then next day, Thursday, The Twin took our parents to the fish market while Danielle and I got our nails did. That afternoon was the ‘rehearsal dinner’ which was really was a surprise double baby shower for the two bridesmaids who were (are) pregnant. Then it was back to The Twin’s place for a night of rushed preparation of wedding decorations and deserts. I spent two hours ironing eight banquet tablecloths.

Never.

Again.

The next morning was the day of the wedding! We were all rushing, with as little sleep as we’d had the night before. I’m not sure if I mentioned this on the Blog, but my Elder Sister, Danielle, has been all about her wedding dress, and not just to get one that looks great. Six months ago she’d bought an antique Japanese obi which she planned to turn into a belt, a mini-obi with a little obi knot at the back to wear around her waist on a traditional Western gown. Great idea! The whole search for the perfect wedding dress has been The Search for a Dress That Will Match This Obi. And she’d done it; I’d seen it at the tailor’s and could totally see it. Except, that was an obi, sitting there. A full obi, unmodified. I asked her, did she decide not to do the obi? She’d been all about that obi. She picked the dress based on this obi. And she was all, “It’s okay. I haven’t had the time,” with disappointment indicating it was anything but okay.

She’d taken two weeks off of work to prepare for this wedding. I’d heard, then saw the results of  many, many, many hours she spent folding paper cranes as decorations for the reception (which worked out amazing, btw). What I couldn’t understand was why this, the concept behind the entire wedding had not been done. I still don’t understand why she hadn’t taken an afternoon and evening to sit down and sew her obi.

For whatever reason, Danielle had been unable to overcome some mental block to make her wedding obi to the point where she’d put it off to the point of giving up.

My brain broke. I sputtered some non-sense about how I’d thought this whole thing was about the obi; getting a dress that fit the obi, finding the right bridesmaids dresses et all decorations that fit said obi. And she was all, I’d still like to have the obi, but there’s no more time. She had to go help set up the reception area now, then it was hair and makeup in the afternoon, then the wedding at 5.

This was not acceptable.  

I told her I would make her obi. Instead of going to help set up, I would stay at the house and in the next two hours, make her an obi.

She gave me a look. The look of a sister who knew perfectly well that the last sewing project I’d completed all on my own was a pillow in middle school home ec.

So I told her I’d spent the past six months making a dress complete with petticoat, bustle and bodice. I could make her a modified obi.

I set to work immediately. The tools at hand were some plain white thread (not the kind I’ve liked to use, but I’ll take what I can get) and The Twin's new, beautiful modern sewing machine. With safety settings. Safety settings that know when you’re trying to use a needle for plain cotton on something thicker than upholstery fabric. Fabric so thick you can’t push regular pushpins through it. A machine that auto-stops and screams at you. There was no way I could continue, not without a correct needle. The Forever Girlfriend was all, ‘There’s a JoAnn Fabrics down the road’ and we drove like bats outta hell, man. I grabbed the first sales lady and told her to take us to the upholstery needles. I grabbed heavy-duty pushpins too. By the time we got back, my two hours to make my sister’s wedding obi had dropped to a little less than an hour and a half.

In the end, I’d made four pieces that only needed to be sewn together. Too bad I needed to shower and prepare to get my hair done. On our way over to the hair stylists’, I told them that if I could walk over to the grocery store and pick up safety pins, I could just pin all the pieces together and it’d work. Which I did.

Danielle’s stylist was amazing; unbelievable people. That lady re-did Danielle’s hair three times, anything and everything to make sure my sister looked and felt beautiful (which my sister is). She looked amazing.

The lady The Twin and I got, well. Best not to speak of the beast who sneezed in her hands and put them in my hair and tried to give me a SIDE PONYTAIL.

The wedding was a beautiful affair at an old country estate at the edge of the Potomac. The flower girls/ring bearers were the cutest freaking things ever. I drank a little, danced with the little kids and saw fireflies. FIREFLIES, YOU GUYS, FIREFLIES!

It was an excellent wedding. Better than that, Eric and Danielle were (are!!!) happy.

Runner-Up Quote of the Wedding:

Eric, upon seeing the heart with “D&E” in it: “Why doesn’t it say, ‘E&D’?”

Danielle: “Because then it would say, ‘Ed’, dear.”

Best Quote of the Wedding:

Eric’s family is, apparently, very ‘traditional’. The Sister warned me that I needed to not swear around them. And told me that his family was under the impression that even though they lived in the same house, they slept in separate bedrooms. To which, I burst out laughing loud, long, and hard. Danielle was all, ‘Got it all out now?”

Later, chatting with The Twin about this,

Chrissy: “His mom wanted to know if Danielle was a virgin, so I asked how that divorce was coming along.”