The Anecdotal Life Part.109.
The Wedding:
There had been clear and well defined plans. They each wanted a small, very small wedding, simple, private, in their home in D.C., no offense to anyone or any burden for others either. However, this idealistically conceived plan began to unravel when my son had to leave for China on a business trip. "One thing led to another" we all said apologetically, "Things got outta hand." we said and blamed it all on the enthusiasm engendered in the neighborhood. "People just assumed they should be there." we , by now, said to ourselves. I , who was the "point man" for the cakes, having voluntered for what I thought would be the easiest job, saw no possibility for complications initially. Optimistically, I began a two and a half week task of simply trying to place an order with the women on Smith Island located in the southern part of the Chesapeake Bay. Famous for uniquely constructed and designed, ten tiered cakes, these women now sold them through Giant Groceries all around the bay in order to help preserve the shoreline of the island and their very particular and historic culture. Even the recipes were historic and since my son's soon to be partner was himself into historic restoration as well as their carefully appointed house, I figured it'd be a hit. A perfect cake match.
By the third week I was still failing to really connect with one or the other of the cake makers and given that the Giant store had seemingly done their best , I was beginning to panic. I was aghast at the thought that I was failing as "point person" for the cakes. However, so were the guys when it came to numbers which had risen by then to "34..well no, better make that 35 now and I will call you again in a few days." Nearly all of the relatives had been shooed away by the very early on privacy pronouncements. (I knew it was going to take some explaining.) So it was with four days to go I got confirmation for the order of three large , plus two small cakes with two grooms on top. Giant grocery in Annapolis had triumphed and called that the cakes would arrive on Thursday. Then it dawned on me. I had to get them safely from Annapolis to D.C., basically from one side of the state to the other, and into the District with it's potholed, woebegone streets and if I had any brains , the sooner the better. I called my son on the spot and lucked out. They were home cleaning the kitchen ( better them than me) and they shouted, "Now, is great!"
I was stuck with navigating those wretched roads but I found that the stimulus money had alleviated fifty percent of the problem. The remaining fifty percent ,though, was treacherous due to construction crews and machinery hammering them. New York Avenue was tough, 18th street was great , then awful, and Kalorama was ridiculously narrow and complicated. All this , I decided, was an exercise in patience. St. Augustine said that "the reward of patience is patience." Well, I thought, at least I had made it down New York Avenue without losing it. But on 18th and Kalorama I had let down St. Augustine several times. Therefore it was a saving grace , not just for me but for my son when a parking spot opened up in front of his house right when I got there. I wrenched my Honda into it even though I had one wheel up on the curb. "Good enough for government work I thought. " and jumped out to direct the guys and the cakes.
My trip home should have been heavenly on this perfect day. So I relaxed ...so much so that I sailed on past an essential left turn onto Massachusetts Avenue and continued dreamily down 18th which, God bless it, after a block or two, segues abruptly into two lanes of traffic coming at you. Fortunately, they were creeping toward me, more out of shock than concern for my well being. I looked right , saw a big break in the traffic in the other lanes and took a hard right to starboard (I think it's called a wheelie) and headed up Connecticut to home congratulating myself on a clever maneuver. The far right lane on Connecticut had other ideas for me since it veered off on to Columbia. By now I was merely congratulating myself for remaining calm. Inside of five seconds I was back on Kalorama from whence I had started. "Deja vu all over again."
I thought of a favorite quote of mine from How The Rhinoceros Got His Skin"by Kipling. "them that takes cakes that the Parsee man bakes, makes dreadful mistakes" ( that's as close as I remember it.) So I revised the phrase as I made the proper left on my second pass to Massachusetts. " them that delivers cakes that the lady of Smith Island bakes, makes dreadful mistakes."
You may like to know how the wedding went. Frankly, being the mother of one of the grooms, I was astounded at how well things went. Far better than I could have imagined-or done. It was simple, elegant, and profoundly moving. One relative who had rebelliously squeezed in under the wire, saw to it that there were flowers which the guys hadn't thought of. Even little red rose boutonnieres. Everyone used their cell phone cameras, but the husband of the flower provider had thoughtfully brought a really professional camera and I think took videos as well, but I wasn't sure since he was doing it all over my right ear. The house was packed. I ,however, wasn't exactly standing since my big toe is to be operated on next week. Therefore I often stood around on one leg looking like a flamingo.
Ah, the cakes... ten layers in each I think I counted. We all sampled one of each and there was enough leftover for the naval academy. One party goer remarked as we all stood around, "It has taken those two guys 28 years to get used to the idea. " To which, I quickly added "oooh, and me too, me too." Then we both laughed. My ex-husband wandered up to me after the vows were said and added his bit to the comments, " Well, we finally got both the kids married off." Then he chuckled. I smiled to myself as I realized I was a mother-in-law twice over now. In fact I smiled all the way home especially when I turned left on Massachusetts.
There had been clear and well defined plans. They each wanted a small, very small wedding, simple, private, in their home in D.C., no offense to anyone or any burden for others either. However, this idealistically conceived plan began to unravel when my son had to leave for China on a business trip. "One thing led to another" we all said apologetically, "Things got outta hand." we said and blamed it all on the enthusiasm engendered in the neighborhood. "People just assumed they should be there." we , by now, said to ourselves. I , who was the "point man" for the cakes, having voluntered for what I thought would be the easiest job, saw no possibility for complications initially. Optimistically, I began a two and a half week task of simply trying to place an order with the women on Smith Island located in the southern part of the Chesapeake Bay. Famous for uniquely constructed and designed, ten tiered cakes, these women now sold them through Giant Groceries all around the bay in order to help preserve the shoreline of the island and their very particular and historic culture. Even the recipes were historic and since my son's soon to be partner was himself into historic restoration as well as their carefully appointed house, I figured it'd be a hit. A perfect cake match.
By the third week I was still failing to really connect with one or the other of the cake makers and given that the Giant store had seemingly done their best , I was beginning to panic. I was aghast at the thought that I was failing as "point person" for the cakes. However, so were the guys when it came to numbers which had risen by then to "34..well no, better make that 35 now and I will call you again in a few days." Nearly all of the relatives had been shooed away by the very early on privacy pronouncements. (I knew it was going to take some explaining.) So it was with four days to go I got confirmation for the order of three large , plus two small cakes with two grooms on top. Giant grocery in Annapolis had triumphed and called that the cakes would arrive on Thursday. Then it dawned on me. I had to get them safely from Annapolis to D.C., basically from one side of the state to the other, and into the District with it's potholed, woebegone streets and if I had any brains , the sooner the better. I called my son on the spot and lucked out. They were home cleaning the kitchen ( better them than me) and they shouted, "Now, is great!"
I was stuck with navigating those wretched roads but I found that the stimulus money had alleviated fifty percent of the problem. The remaining fifty percent ,though, was treacherous due to construction crews and machinery hammering them. New York Avenue was tough, 18th street was great , then awful, and Kalorama was ridiculously narrow and complicated. All this , I decided, was an exercise in patience. St. Augustine said that "the reward of patience is patience." Well, I thought, at least I had made it down New York Avenue without losing it. But on 18th and Kalorama I had let down St. Augustine several times. Therefore it was a saving grace , not just for me but for my son when a parking spot opened up in front of his house right when I got there. I wrenched my Honda into it even though I had one wheel up on the curb. "Good enough for government work I thought. " and jumped out to direct the guys and the cakes.
My trip home should have been heavenly on this perfect day. So I relaxed ...so much so that I sailed on past an essential left turn onto Massachusetts Avenue and continued dreamily down 18th which, God bless it, after a block or two, segues abruptly into two lanes of traffic coming at you. Fortunately, they were creeping toward me, more out of shock than concern for my well being. I looked right , saw a big break in the traffic in the other lanes and took a hard right to starboard (I think it's called a wheelie) and headed up Connecticut to home congratulating myself on a clever maneuver. The far right lane on Connecticut had other ideas for me since it veered off on to Columbia. By now I was merely congratulating myself for remaining calm. Inside of five seconds I was back on Kalorama from whence I had started. "Deja vu all over again."
I thought of a favorite quote of mine from How The Rhinoceros Got His Skin"by Kipling. "them that takes cakes that the Parsee man bakes, makes dreadful mistakes" ( that's as close as I remember it.) So I revised the phrase as I made the proper left on my second pass to Massachusetts. " them that delivers cakes that the lady of Smith Island bakes, makes dreadful mistakes."
You may like to know how the wedding went. Frankly, being the mother of one of the grooms, I was astounded at how well things went. Far better than I could have imagined-or done. It was simple, elegant, and profoundly moving. One relative who had rebelliously squeezed in under the wire, saw to it that there were flowers which the guys hadn't thought of. Even little red rose boutonnieres. Everyone used their cell phone cameras, but the husband of the flower provider had thoughtfully brought a really professional camera and I think took videos as well, but I wasn't sure since he was doing it all over my right ear. The house was packed. I ,however, wasn't exactly standing since my big toe is to be operated on next week. Therefore I often stood around on one leg looking like a flamingo.
Ah, the cakes... ten layers in each I think I counted. We all sampled one of each and there was enough leftover for the naval academy. One party goer remarked as we all stood around, "It has taken those two guys 28 years to get used to the idea. " To which, I quickly added "oooh, and me too, me too." Then we both laughed. My ex-husband wandered up to me after the vows were said and added his bit to the comments, " Well, we finally got both the kids married off." Then he chuckled. I smiled to myself as I realized I was a mother-in-law twice over now. In fact I smiled all the way home especially when I turned left on Massachusetts.
posted by The Anecdotal Life at 10:58 AM
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