It feels like months ago already, that most wonderful of wonderful days that seemed to fly by in 5 minutes and left my smiled-out cheeks ache for days.
But 3 weeks ago, I married the man that fills my heart with glee.
My beautiful friend Caitlin helped me brighten the room on a winter day with hundreds of poppies.
I squeezed into a simple champagne taffeta and ecru lace dress from the 50’s
and a pair of vintage cream heels rescued at an estate sale
Gypsy Scotty picked me and my little helper-loves up in a friends cream valiant
and dropped me to a nearby pub where I met Dad and downed a whiskey to put the nerves at ease.
On my arrival, the gorgeous Ukeladies played ‘Today I met the boy I’m gonna marry’, an old Darlene Love song I’d picked.
And with a healthy dose of laughter, all our friends supported us in tying the knot.
The families were proud and happy
There were speeches that reduced me to tears and Michael sang me a song.
There was great music and dancing. Lots and lots of dancing.
A cake of cheeses.
Congo lines gone askew.
And then there was us. Utterly exhausted and overwhelmed with joy.
Everyone was eventually sent home with something to nurture and grow.
We spent the next morning recounting all our favourite parts of the night in bed
before meeting the out-of-staters for brunch.
Adrenalin must have kept me together the weeks leading up to it all, because just 2 days after I collapsed into a fluey mess and lost my voice. My honeymoon was not spent in the arms of my new husband, but with work in Jakarta, trading in sweet whispers and cuddles with a duty free bottle of Jamiesons and hotel slippers.
But I’m back! And crazy happy to be ‘Wifey’
