Presumptuous

There is a sideways stream of snow flowing through the air outside . . . actually, it's more like unto a flash flood gushing between homes and down the streets. I am so glad to be inside my nice, warm home that is surrounded by small, immature and leafless trees, with no need to go anywhere (me nor the trees). It only took a minute for my car to frost over and blend into the white frenzy. He (my car) and I are expected in Salt Lake tomorrow morning. We'll see.

I want to write a few words on the subject of wedding receptions. Trampled topic? Uninteresting? Your chance to stop reading is now.

But if you continue (yay!):



To stand in line for at least half an hour. . . .

Why would I, a tender-footed and tired bride, subject myself to a receiving line for a few solid hours when what I truly desire is to take my husband home and . . . help him loosen his tie a little?

Well, call me selfish (as I'm already being presumptuous), but I propose that a wedding day should be organized to include exactly everything you would want for one day. You know, within reason.

I love people and will want to receive as many as possible at the time of my wedding, but I refuse to submit to the receiving line. I am stubbornly creating quite a dilemma for myself, but I'm going to try to make it happen.

How? Yes, I don't know quite yet. Somehow.

When you travel, it's impossible to see everything and to meet everyone; there's just not enough time. But as you've traveled through life, you've met thousands of people, hundreds of which will be considered important enough to invite to your wedding reception. And how can it be satisfactory to shake a hand, share a laugh and send away with a hug; so little for all these lovely people?

It's like Santa. How does he manage to touch every unnaughty life in so little time? (spoiler alert) Oh, right, he's not real. But if he were, what if he decided to invite all his favorites to the North Pole for Christmas instead, certainly he would dread the line that would form as everyone waited to sit on his lap. . . .

What if I reached out to "mes invités" (that's French for 'my guests'), with an interactive website of sorts, before they even came to the reception? That would be cool. They would then arrive at the reception, already informed about the party they formerly knew nothing about, they wouldn't have to meet parents unless they truly wanted to, and by then they'd know what everyone looked like, sounded like, etc. They would just need to come for the food, and to deliver a present if they so wished me well.

I'm just making this up. Seat of my pants.

But, that could be cool. Don't send a million fancypants invitations; instead send a shot of my smiling face next to his* on a card with a Web address and a reception date (you know, in case some are interwebbedly challenged so they can still know when to show up).

(*there currently is no 'his')

Then, on the day of the festivities, I would be in a nice dress with a fantastic apron, doting on my guests with delicious sweets and eats as they mingled. They could arrive, and first thing find a table, or purposefully be seated, much like at a restaurant, and my groom and I could visit each table, handing out favors and goodies, deciding for ourselves if we would like to linger at their table, or not.

Or,

There could be a blasted line, BUT I will not be standing. In the very least i will have a tall stool propped beneath me which would allow for graceful transition from sitting to standing, and back, with little notice of the shift of weight from my feet to my bottom. In my wildest dreams it would be a hammock behind me, high and taut, allowing for the same ease of movement, but adding to it a nice dangling sway for fun.

Along the receiving line there would be food samples. People come for the food and to wait in line; why not combine the two at once? So they'd sign their name, drop their gift, start snacking on various cheeses and popcorns and olives and smoothie shots and whatever else I'll be in the mood to have served. That way, by the time they get to me, they'd be happily surprised that they hadn't just been waiting awkward and anxiously, having involuntarily memorized the balding pattern on the head of the man in front of them.

And we all hate that moment where we've pulled up to the groom's ma and old man and mutter how we know the bride while baldy take two minutes-feels-like-hours with the best dressed couple, and we're stuck: no retreating, no way to avoid filling that empty, in-law gap until the couple is free. . . .

Then, all those who didn't see the website would have the opportunity to do so at the "movie corner" where the couple's history and cutesy kissy faces would stream, continuing all night on repeat. Even better, the images and sounds on repeat could be the wrap up to something "to be continued" from the website. Hook them, bring them in, make them want to pay attention to something more than food and couple. This also doubles as a great little kid amusement area.

And you're guaranfrickenteed there will be popcorn at my wedding, a perfect addition to a movie corner. Doing this.

And Bean bags. More hammocks. Hey, it's (it'll be) my reception.

Then there's all this traditional stuff, like cutting a cake and nibbling a bite from each other's fingers; throwing a bouquet at the next single lady to presumptuously post on her blog; slipping a garter from bride's leg and flicking it to the next single male to hang it from his rearview mirror. . . . I would go along with these traditions, for fun. For pictures and smiles.

Anything that brings smiles should greatly be considered.

But, I'm not much of a dancer. I would be okay to do the parent dance thing and the couple's first dance thing, but I hereby promise the songs will be very short, no more than two minutes. Two minute and eight second max. (because THIS, I'm pretty sure, will be my wedding dance song. Just imagine it's a girl singing to a boy and not a pig. This is another song that may show up somewhere that day.)

But, if my hubaroo wants to dance till his pants catch fire, he can do what he wants. It's his wedding day, too. (And actually, there are sincere and weighted considerations that the reception would even be the day/evening before the day of wedding so that the instant that I'm married I can go off to , , , reception only my husband for the rest of time and all eternity.) I can wiggle my hips and cheer him on from over by the cheese tray.

I like the sound of all this, more or less. One thing I've told myself before is that I'll never have my wedding reception inside a church cultural hall . . . but I don't care so much anymore. Churches are great places.

As for other details, like colors, decor, dress, flowers, etc. . . . We'll go with the flow. But I think it would be way sweet if the men wore brown suits. Something untraditional.

I'm pretty easy to please, I think. I postulate that my wedding day/reception day will be quite easy going and laid back. If so, it will be a perfect day. A great way to start off a bazillion more days of marriage. Awesome idea.