electricland

So my cousin -- one of my cousins, for I have many, it's hardly a unique identifier -- my cousin Cynthia got married on Saturday. In celebration, lo, there were out-of-town guests. Also no less than three events, which caused a certain amount of wardrobe strain, especially given that the level of formality was not entirely clear until fairly late in the day, and my wedding standby the Amazing Orange Dress is currently too small for me. (It's the most expensive dress I've ever owned, so I'd better haul my oversized ass back to the gym. But I digress.) I got by in the end with clothes I already owned, although I did buy new shoes, in black, on sale (yay!). They worked out really well and did not cripple me for life, which is what I look for in a shoe.

To continue:

Friday
I stayed home from work because I was feeling poorly, but lots of napping did me good and I dragged myself out of bed and showered and everything. Was just preparing to leave with J and family when she looked extremely thoughtful and said "I feel kind of nauseous and dizzy. I think I'd better stay home."

So the rest of us made sympathetic noises and headed off for the casual party at Todmorden Mills, which is a nice historic site in the Don Valley that I drive past a lot and have never been in. Kids, dogs, buffet. I wore a skirt and tank top and my everyday sandals. Caught up with relatives, met a few other people (but there were so many relatives that this was actually a bit of a challenge). Admired the massive spaghetti-like combined family tree of the bride and groom, which featured me off in one corner and the family dog as a sibling of the bride. This tells you a lot about my family. There are a lot of us, and we keep in touch.

Granny was another no-show from our branch of the family. Mummy was feeling guilty because Granny had fallen over and Mummy had caught the plates she was carrying, but not Granny herself, who had fallen on a chair and bruised a rib -- we pointed out that a) the plates were between her and Granny so what was she supposed to do, b) if she HAD tried to catch Granny she probably would've just fallen on top of her, and c) if she hadn't saved the plates Granny would probably have told her off for having her priorities all wrong.

We made a graceful early exit, around 10.

Saturday
I did a little laundry, a little grocery shopping, got my hair done (more vigorously than I had planned -- she had firm ideas about hairspray). Learned that J had food poisoning and had passed a perfectly miserable night and was not in any shape to socialize. My aunt picked me up around 3:30 and we got to Trinity College chapel ahead of anyone else, which wasn't quite what we planned. We hung about for a bit, then eventually circumvented the ushers and got a spot on the shady side of the aisle although I'm not certain how much difference it made. Granny arrived in a wheelchair and was put up front. The old folk get the best seats. (Actually the young folk got to sit in the choir stalls, so they had possibly the best seats of all.)

We all got fans (pierced wood -- apparently when they arrived they were hideously scented and the brother of the bride, my cousin Dan, had all of them spread out all over his garden for a week because nobody else could stand the smell). Which was a stroke of genius, because it was HOT.

I think they were the tallest, thinnest bridal couple ever -- Cynthia isn't all that tall, maybe 5'8" or 5'9", but she's so slim she looks taller, and Phil is about 6'7" and positively cadaverous, and the minister was about 5'5", which was amusing.

The wedding was short compared to the Catholic weddings I've attended but still not short enough in the heat -- the minister felt the need to make certain we all knew what we were there to witness and what that involved, and I'm sure we were all quite ready to promise anything at all if he'd just get on with things. Afterwards there were pictures and bottled water in the quad THANK GOD.

Then we all processed up St. George street towards the York Club. A block from, we paused because there was a canoe on trestles next to the sidewalk -- Cynthia was quite close to it and looked in and thought "Oh, hey, a Just Married sign! Someone else got married today too! Hey, and they have the same shoes as me!" At which point Daniel 'fessed up that it was his present to the couple (in fact he had made it -- click "Image Gallery", "From the Shop to the Water," and "Dan's 15' Ranger" to see), and his girlfriend Caro stepped out of hiding and 'fessed up too, and then the bride and the groom's party portaged it the rest of the way to the York Club, stopping traffic across Bloor and trailing tin cans behind them. (I carried the bouquet.)

We tried to convince a distant English cousin that of course ALL Canadian weddings feature a canoe. I'm not sure she bought it though.

Then we had a party. Again, we left rather early, but it was loads of fun. Once again I did not meet the love of my life -- Four Weddings and a Funeral is nothing but a vicious lie, I tell you.

I wore a white halter-neck dress with red flowers and I think I hit it about right. The mother and sister of the groom were madly glamourous -- s.o.t.g. in asymmetrical green chiffon (a sort of really pretty pea-green if you can picture that) with spaghetti straps and masses of bronze beading, and very short spiky red hair and bronzy chandelier earrings, and m.o.t.g. in kind of cafe-au-lait number with big flowers and chignon.

Sunday: brunch. J recovered enough to go to this one and have everyone tell her how much they had missed her, and she'd lost 6 pounds, which is kind of a silver lining, I guess.

All grand fun, in short.