Two Years

So our Ultimate Blogger 3 response to the "Participation" challenge did not go over well. So much so that we almost got voted off despite there being one team who didn't post anything. I guess there aren't many NeverEnding Story fans on the other teams. Our next post is up, a response to the "Passion" challenge. I think there's a strong possibility we'll be leaving the competition shortly, so get your hot, fresh team Oh Don Piano while you can.

But let's put blogging competitions aside for a moment, because elimination or not, today's a much more special day.

Two years ago today, my bridesmaids and I were spread out in a nail shop getting our toes and fingers prettied up for the evening and Willow was being drooled over by a gaggle of Korean women who were dying to wax her legs. In a few more hours, I would be sitting in a tiny salon on the lower east side with Mario carefully styling my hair into shiny curls, working so deliberately that my mom and I would worry we were running late. An hour or so after that, I would be in a hotel room in Brooklyn with my girls, getting dressed and letting Kelly apply my makeup. There would be a videographer there taping everything as a gift to us, even though she would later abandon the project and that footage would be lost to history.

Some time later, we would pile into a limo. Though we had just reserved something small to carry the 6 or so of us, the company sent over a gigantic SUV-type stretch limo--a ridiculous vehicle under any circumstances. We would laugh about it and then pour a little champagne for each of us to sip on our way to Prospect Park.

We would arrive at the park early for pictures. Some people were disappointed that J and I would see each other before the ceremony, but there was no other practical way to do the pictures. We would tromp all over the park taking serious pictures and goofy pictures, before I would be ushered back to the limo to wait.

My girls and I would end up sitting in that limo for awhile before the ceremony would start. The windows were tinted, but people peeked over, and we watched them all file into the picnic house. It was almost sunset.

Then I would be walking down the aisle in the last moments that J and I wouldn't just be fiances anymore (though neither of us cared for that word much, or used it very often).

Things would go wrong: a friend of the family would come late, the officiant would break into a speech about Hurricane Katrina, the caterer would make my mom mad, the room wouldn't be arranged the way we had planned, the DJ would mess up the father/daughter/mother/son song, the cars we'd arranged to get people out of the park wouldn't be able to enter the park, J and I would steal someone's cab on Prospect Park West in order to get to our hotel, my parents would ride out in a Penske truck with some park staff.

Things would go very right: the red velvet cupcakes made by Abby would be devoured with eyes rolled in ecstasy, my friends would perform a surprise choreographed dance, people who asked if it was okay that they not give a toast would give heartfelt and teary toasts, J and I would end the night eating the best room-service grilled cheese and french fries we'd ever had while collapsed on a bed watching the end of Saturday Night Live.

Lucky for us, things would continue to go right for the next two years.

Happy anniversary, J.