The Biggest Day... Ours!

Countdown.

Set-up was a whirlwind. 

I can't believe how quickly two days just flew by. I was unshowered, rubber-boot-clad and on a mission. We sat down long enough to inhale the odd piece of toast or slice of pizza, but otherwise our team of 7 (turned team of 12) spent every waking minute cooking, shoveling, nailing, stapling, cutting, sewing, gluing, unpacking, arranging, hauling, fixing, and concocting wild makeshift solutions to last minute bumps in the road. My unofficial role as "overseer" proved unnecessary, and I was needed elsewhere/everywhere attending to design problems and providing visual fluffing, tweaking and consulting. I did my share of heavy labour, too. My dad, sore back and fear of heights to boot, spent more time on a ladder than on the ground. It's really a mystery to me how it all came together so perfectly.

Dudley fended for himself, dashing off into the woods, always reappearing and hoping to engage someone in a game of fetch.  

We marched on into the night on Friday, forced to finally call it a day when flashlights wouldn't cut it. The team crashed, but Jill braved out the night with me as I finished my vows and speech with less than 12 hours to spare before the ceremony. I suppose that's what honourary maids-of-honour/sisters are for.

We're Getting Married! Saturday, September 26th, 2009.

A group of bleary-eyed people begrudgingly attended a 7am kitchen pow-wow chaired by me - the most energetic person of the bunch, despite my mere 4 hours of sleep. Pre-nuptial adrenaline, perhaps? I doled out last-minute tasks to our combined families (plus Tabor) and set to work myself on finishing touches. 

The day before, a UPS screw-up meant that my flowers ended up in Ottawa, 2 hours away, but Vicky and Leah saved the day, picking them up for me and driving them up to the farm where Liz arranged them expertly. Crisis averted! 

By noon, Jill pried me away from some anal little detail over which I was fussing, practically heaving me in the shower. The caterer had already arrived, and I was still wearing unwashed jeans and a handkerchief in my filthy hair. Courtney followed us around while we primped, snapping gorgeous photos of pre-wedding mayhem. Tabor, bless her heart and delightfully bad influence, brought me copious amounts of white wine while I vied for alone-time in the bathroom. I did my own hair and makeup. Control freak. 

But I  did need help from Steve to fasten the last little hook-and-eye closure on my half-homemade dress. It wasn't his ideal brother-of-the-bride duty, but for me, it was a moment. A really, really great one. 

I attempted to keep order. People were arriving, questions need answering. But towel-clad with a mouthful of bobby-pins, I was an ineffective leader. Jill stepped up and offered to "answer all stupid questions" leaving me to have a few peaceful moments until the ceremony began. I may have finally breathed. Possibly I finally let go. I knew then that this was it - there was no reason to fret over anything anymore. Whatever we managed to do by then was as much as would be accomplished before I became a Mrs.

Our officiant arrived and I made my appearance in the kitchen. The wedding band (Sweet Thing's other 4 members, plus Brian) milled around, hoping for a little face-time with the mirror now that I was done. Guests were arriving outside, and then: rain. My foul-mouthed reaction did not match my now pristine and ladylike appearance (a far cry from the grimy slave-driver I had been that morning, when my language would have been more fitting). Alas Mother Nature was just testing us. The rain subsided and only returned much later that night, once everyone was well-covered in the barn.

Our ceremony was brief and not entirely traditional, but it was sweet and personal. Dudley was our ring bearer, we didn't have a wedding party per se, and our whole family walked the aisle. Including dogs. Nick played us in, to a gorgeous acoustic instrumental version of Somewhere Over The Rainbow. 

We read our own vows, and I, having written them in a delirious half-sleep, needed cue cards. I lost it ("it" as in composure). Twice. Waterworks. Luckily, Jill forced a kleenex down the front of my dress only seconds before I made my entrance. It came in handy. And, a tissue produced from my bosom was unintentional comic relief. Jill and I giggled throughout Charlie's reading. Inappropriately timed laughing is a Murray thing. But moments later, I was no longer a Murray. Our officiant introduced us as husband and wife, and revealed a well kept secret: our new name. 

We decided to pick a whole new last name, considering we weren't entirely fond of the names we had and because, well, we could. We exited the ceremony as Mr. and Mrs. Winter.

Courtney snapped newlywed pics of us by the lake, behind the barn and in the boat. The venue provided such a perfect backdrop and the partially cloudy sky was a photographer's dream. She was nervous about her abilities, but totally rocked it:

Alex's cousin Rudi proved to be a nice surprise back-up, sending us some extra angles:

Cocktail hour included games and an interactive guest book table. Both went off without a hitch and I was surprised to actually see people playing badminton and croquet in dresses and pretty shoes. Dawn and Shemeena managed to catch every single guest for a photo in our guest book. Although Alex rolled his eyes at the "props" I bought for the photo booth (cowboy hats, oversized glasses, etc.), our guests actually used them!

Stephanie was already serving drinks to the masses, and Alex and I actually managed to hit the bar between a million gushing hellos. There were so many people - extended family and friends from afar - that I couldn't spread myself around enough. I caught myself still playing wedding planner, at times. 

Dinner started late, but no one seemed to notice except me. Of course. Despite my caterer/food nightmare/saga, we ended up hiring the most amazing company. Even though we started off on the wrong foot, Bill and his team arrived early, were pleasant and professional, and made some of the best BBQ grub I'd ever had. People were really pleased with the food, and although we ran out of bread and spring rolls, we had enough pasta salad, potatoes and BBQ goodness to feed an army. Honestly, we were eating leftovers for a week! Alex and I served the sides in the cute aprons I had bought online. It was a great touch, and an opportunity to get in a few missed hellos. We even made time to scarf a few deviled eggs. 

Dinner in the tent (rented, thankfully, at the last minute) was casual and speeches were short and sweet. I created a game to deter the clinking of glasses for bride-groom kisses. But, to our amazement, many guests approached the mic to belt out their table's song. We obliged with kissing. My cousin Christine  surprised us with an impromptu serenade in her amazing voice. Otherwise, music was provided by our trusty iPod playlist.

As dinner wrapped up, I was informed that yet another snag meant holding our guests in the tent for a little while longer. Although we were poised to move to the barn for dessert and dancing, a power outage threw the whole building into darkness. We were overloading the circuits. 

My new father-in-law is quite handy with these things though, and power was restored quickly. The coffee, however, needed to be prepared in the farm house and carted over to the barn. It seems that the percolators were the culprits. Mike and Vicky poured coffee into every vessel they could find. I don't think my grandmother ever did get a cup of tea, though.  The cupcakes were completely devoured by the time Alex and I hit the barn for our first dance. A sign that I'm not totally hopeless as a baker, maybe?

We danced to Harvest Moon, "our song" (established while dancing at Kirsten's wedding). It was totally awkward. I had hoped for our first dance to be a choreographed Dirty Dancing/Beyonce comedic mash-up but lack of rehearsal time before the big day prompted us to abandon the idea. Alex was relieved, I'm sure. We urged others onto the dancefloor, and performed the obligatory father-daughter/mother-son dances before the band launched into some energetic Beatles covers. I think I spent the entire night on the dancefloor, finally forgetting about my carefully prepared agenda and letting it all just happen. By then, of course, I was drinking wine directly out of the bottle. 

Alex picked up the guitar and the boys performed a few Sweet Thing songs, too. Dance Mother, included. I'm sure the grandmothers may have been offended, but i doubt they noticed the F-Bomb in the chorus. Guests began to taper off, but a sizeable group consisting mostly of the campers stayed late to dance. 

Unbeknown to me, a bonfire was roaring by the lake and a few brave souls had taken the boats out for a float. Yeah, safe. Fire and boats and drunk people. I am actully glad that I was oblivious.

At around 1am, my mother caught Alex and I shoveling leftover pasta salad into our mouths with serving spoons. Classy. Drunk midnight snacking is really the best. I was stupid-drunk by that point, resulting in the following unflattering photos, but managed to make it to bed without falling on my face or waking up with a hangover (more than can be said for some unlucky unnamed members of our family. Ahem.). 

We weren't the last standing though - a mismatched collection of my friends and Alex's stayed up until at least 3, I'm told. I do wish I had remembered a little more about the last few moments of our biggest-day-ever, but they live on through blurry photos and the wonderful ability of my longtime girlfriends to retell moments of our past with increasingly more dramatic detail each time.

Denoument.

My mother woke up to what she will describe as the worst kitchen mess she has ever faced. For a woman who raised me - 3-year-old inventor of such brilliant ideas as molasses art - that is quite the statement. She spent three hours cleaning it, with the help of my father. By the time I emerged at 9am, it was sparkling. Thank goodness for moms. 

We used the last day and a half of our time at the farm to clean and re-pack, kicking out the rest of our team by Sunday afternoon. Alex and I attempted to have a honeymoon moment - our first moment alone in four days - with some Kingston Indian take-out and a DVD on Sunday night.

Our real honeymoon wouldn't happen for another four months, but after half a year of intense planning and week of sheer chaos, dinner and a movie was paradise. 

In the end, we were absolutely thrilled with everything. Minor hitches went totally unnoticed and I, surprisingly, rolled with the punches. It was the best wedding I'd ever attended. OK, I'm biassed. But really, doing everything yourself, while hard work, is so incredibly rewarding. The whole day felt so "us". 

Rain and blackouts and temporary memory loss would never affect the most important aspect of the day: we married for love.

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A HUGE thanks to:

The Murray Family - Mom, Dad, Jill and Steve

The Last Family - Mom, Dad, Mike, and Charlie

My "Wedding Squad" - Liz, Vicky, Philam, Alexis, Shemeena, Sheila, Dawn, Jill and Kirsten

Sweet Thing - Owen, Nick, Tyler and Morgan

Tabor Story

Courtney Price

Stephanie Burritt

Cathie Pak

Derek Brawley

Christine Brawley

Vivek Shraya

Brian Murphy

Leah Campbell

Vic Vella

David Vella

Rudi Asseer

Nick Stam

Kim Purton

Chris, Kris & Family

Dudley, Max and Otis 

Cafe Indochine (and the Nguyen family)

Bloomex

Ella Wagner & Brent Brawley

Carolyn Wong

Bill Allison, Confederation Hotel

Andy Visser, Queens University

Kingston Tent and Party

Cynthia Findlay Antiques 

Vistek

Our guests - wonderful family and friends

[ photos by: Courtney Price, Rudi Asseer, David Vella and Ian Murray ]