This is the first of a couple posts I'll be doing about Tait and Karen's wedding this past weekend. I'll do a separate post with pictures of the flower balls and centerpieces because I haven't gotten the pictures I need yet. I took a ton of photos of the decor with my father-in-law's camera, which he lost. So until I can collect some other images from other guests, or his camera turns up, we'll just have to look at the lovely bride and the handsome groom.
I think every bride has their stories of the last minute snafus. With me, it was the jukebox. Damn that jukebox. With Karen, it was the Port-a-Pottys and the hair-do.
At the last minute, Karen's hairdresser called and said that she couldn't come. Which, I have to say, would have freaked me out. But Karen was calm, and we decided that I should do it. I am a designer. I make pretty things. I have hair. I was fairly confident I could do it. It's just hair. Right?
Lets just start by saying that my hair is NOTHING like Karen's hair. Mine is fine and slippery and dark, Karen's is curly and thick and red (and also "foamy" according to Tait). In my opinion, if our hair got together, and had a hair baby it would be the best hair on the planet, but I digress. (You might think I'm about to brag here... and you'd be one hundred percent correct). But didn't I do a great job? It's dreamy. No?
There was also the dress, can we focus on her dress? Karen designed it, and her mother made it. MADE it. As in, from scratch. All in all, no less than a hundred hours of work must have gone into this dress. Karen was making adjustments to the details of the dress whilst she was putting it on. It was an insane labor of love for both Karen and her talented mother. Alas, the life of the dress was fast and hard. It rode in a boat, it got married, it danced the rhumba into the wee hours of the morn, and on the way to bed, it met it's end. As Tait was carrying Karen to bed (collective sigh, big romance points) he tripped over a root, dropped her in the dirt (collective gasp), and went ass over tea kettle into the mud himself. The dress was... muddy. Very muddy and damp. Only the good die young. They were good natured enough to have a good laugh about it.
More on the wedding to come. Soon. I hope.

*photos by Nuno Serrenho