December 11, 2004. Brian & I were getting ready for our big trip down the longest aisle in town. Marriage vows, wedding cake, first dance, tons of famly and friends there to witness the whole thing. It was a bitterly cold day, overcast and wintry. Of course half the wedding party was dressed like it was a gorgeous summer day, but that's really all they sell in the stores.
Groom: undershirt, long-sleeve shirt, vest, jacket, long pants. (Note the many layers required.)
Bride: sleeves? what sleeves?
Many of you reading this blog were there that day. What most of you don't know is that Brian & I had been taking dance lessons for about two months. For our first dance, we were planning to break out a choreographed disco number to a Bee Gees tune.
Instead, we used up all of our lessons and we still had no choreographed number (go figure). More lessons were going to be difficult and expensive at a time of the year when nobody needs either one. So, Brian & I decided it would be much better to dance to his alma mater's song: The Tennessee Waltz. And when I mentioned this part to the DJ handling the music for our reception, he arranged for a mutual friend to record a version just for us. We heard his tune for the first time as we danced to it at the reception.
It was absolutely perfect. Brian & I dressed in our finest, waltzed around the room to a custom-made tune, surrounded by a gorgeous night-time view of downtown, our closest friends, and a buffet table full of delicious food and drink and wedding cake.
Fast forward two years: we're standing in our kitchen, sharing a bowl of macaroni & cheese, watching Helen smear dinner on her face. Later, during the Muppets movie, I fall asleep with Helen on the couch.
Like sands through the hourglass, people. Sand, hourglass.