More Wedding Blooper Pics

Larry launches "The Groomsmen" CD release party at his wedding

Only guitarist Doug Perkins (far right) questions the idea






















Bridal Party learns of how the groom put himself through college.



















Which makes Bride wonder how Groom came up with that extra wedding cash...

After explaining that he was playing touch football for the Baptists,
the Bride was relieved that no dancing was involved.


The Groom launches his "Freewheelin' 2006" CD release party at the reception.

Wedding Blooper Pictures

Larry posted his Wedding Blooper Pictures, Part One and Part Two. Hysterical.
In the spirit of matrimonial competition, here's my submission.

Catheryn remains unaware of Lizzie's "Data Mining"














Niece and nephew Emily and Jonathan, grow tired of picture-taking.











Larry Pretents to Hate Eating Cake Carbs














a) Come on, swallow the whole bite!















b) Admit it, you liked it, didn't you?


















c) WHOA! He ate the rest while I wasn't looking!

Honeymoon in Reno

Larry and I capped off our honeymoon segment in Oregon. We had one last barbecue with Larry's mom Joy, and the Repaskys: Larry's sister Dianna, her husband Tony and their son Joe.

The whole Repasky family was dreading Wednesday, when Joe had to go back to school. Dianna, because she's got to be the human alarm clock. Joe doesn't wake easily. Joe is a talented, budding writer and filmmaker, and he has a hard time shutting his mind off to go to sleep. Which is fine when you're 25 and you can make your own schedule. But as Joe's dad reminded him, Joe is STILL 15 years old.

Larry's mother Joy came for dinner. She treated me to loads of pictures of Larry; pics of him as a baby, school kid, teenager, ans posing as a missionary. I've got plenty of great shots for bragging, bribing and blackmailing. Joy gave us some great jewelry too. Larry has a diamond earring. Now he's got this sexy pirate look that's a bit distracting when I'm trying to write.

The next day we left and drove all day and hit Reno at around 9pm. Larry saw a Days Inn off the freeway. "Only $35 a night!" But I ssaw "Circus Circus" in neon blinking on a hi-rise in the distance. Larry crowed: "Only the best for my bride!"

Nothing says "honeymoon" like walking a casino floor on a Tuesday night. The cheap drinks, the Nicotine contact high, the retired ladies gambling their pensions away, one dollar-coin at a time. Starbucks are really popular in Casinos. I guess the caffeine keeps them gambling.

We got out of the casino and walked down the main drag, to take in the neon and the warm night air. The air afoul with the weekend trash. The desperate looking people going from pawn shop to casino. Whatever fun we thought we might have in the way of kitsch and camp quickly evaporated.

I hate gambling towns. The first time I drove through one we were on our way to Utah to ski. I was in 7th grade. I remember ladies playing slots at the supermarket; a bum stumbling in the winter morning light as if he'd been startled awake.

Well, we got back to Circus Circus, enjoyed the carnival games, took the monorail 50 yards from Circus Circus East Tower to Circus Circus West Tower (hey ... It saved us a walk through the Corridor of Slots). We got to our room and blogged. No wait, we didn't. Only one of us could log on at a time. Forget that.

We woke up early, drove an hour to Lake Tahoe, and have been enjoying a peaceful, relaxing day and evening on the South Shore. Where there is no gambling. We did drive a mile back across the Nevada State line for dinner and a view of the Lake.

I love the smell of California mountains. I grew up going to Bible camp and summer trips to Big Bear or Forest Falls and Idyllwild. Even a few trips to Tahoe. That smell of dry air and pine and salt water. Just the best.

It's back to Los Angeles and OUR home. Hopefully Larry and I will do a lot of traveling and blogging in the future. And so far he's the perfect traveling blogging companion. With benefits.

Honeymoon Week

Larry and I have been in Oregon. I met Larry's mother Joy, who couldn't come down to the wedding. We've been hosted by his sister Dianna, her husband Tony, and their son Joe, who graciously gave up his room for "the evil lair." At first I thought Joe meant he was giving up his room for "the Evil Lar" ... his uncle Larry. But then I saw their den was painted red, and had a flying cow with evil red eyes. The Red Den was the Evil Lair. Not his uncle.

I love Larry's family. They're fun to be around, so generous, and they've made me feel so welcome and comfortable. We've had a great time together. We went to the State Fair. Most state fairs are the same: you've got displays of local livestock, plants and crafts; deep fried food, and thrill rides to throw it up onto. But we had fun hanging out together. Dianna and Tony know how to laugh.

We drove out to farmland to the local fruit stands.
We drove up to Portland to Saturday Market, where local hippies sell their stuff.
We went to Powell's bookstore, an entire city block of books.
Nothing says nerd love like a bookstore and coffee.

Except for a wi-fi joint and coffee. Which Larry and I did the next day.








Larry's looking a little like Hugh Laurie when he blogs.










I think I scored.

Like I said, we've been having a great time. But last night when Tony asked us what the rest of our honeymoon looked like, Larry said, "We'll leave here Tuesday morning and maybe get back to LA by Wednesday night."

I pulled Larry into Joe's room and sat him down. "Larry, when you planned our honeymoon, what were you envisioning it to be?"

Larry sighed. "I know I didn't plan this well. We needed more time alone."
"Well it's not over. But you're thinking we'll leave Tuesday and blitz drive down to LA in a day and a half?"

That's just one possibility," he stammered.

As the words emerged on his lips he realized how bad that sounded. If that was the first possibility, what could he say to make up for it?

When people go on honeymoons, they go off and be alone. They go to Hawaii. They stay in nice hotels and get room service and go snorkeling. They don't spend a week in their nephew's bedroom with his bowling ball.

So I took Larry's hand and smiled, "I love your family. They are great. But in addition to this, we ALSO need a honeymoon.

Larry closed his eyes, upset at himself for not planning better. To Larry's credit, he had originally reserved a hotel in Lake Tahoe over Labor Day weekend, but then I booked a movie and had to work the first two days after our wedding. Larry was a good sport. He even came to the set and played an extra all day. But it pushed our honeymoon back a couple of days, and thus we found ourselves in Oregon a couple extra days waiting for the Labor Day traffic to die down. All understandable.

But when I heard Larry say we were maybe going to get home in a day and a half, I had visions of a marathon drive, and numb backside to show for it; a concave matress at the Truckee Motel 6. That's not a honeymoon. That's a quick drive to Annullment.

However, a honeymoon jaccuzzi or a hike around Lake Tahoe could fix that. Which Larry promptly arranged.

So Larry drove me back to Portland today. We walked along the Willamette River Bank, through Chinatown. We saw a Craft Fair. We went up to Washington Park, the Rose Garden.

Tomorrow we're taking off toward California. Our goal is Lake Tahoe. But if we find something we want to do along the way, we'll do that. Larry mentioned watching the salmon run, Mount Hood, and Yosemite. So who knows where we'll end up tomorrow night. We just won't be rushing to get there.



I just love that guy. How can you not love a man who loves you like no one has ever done before? I realized the other day that not only did I hit the jackpot. Larry and I are each other's jackpot. But we are no one else's jackpot. How convenient for us.

Oregon Trail

Greetings from the Honeymoon Trail

No jokes about blogging on our Bliss Trip. We are in bliss, and that includes Blogging.

The day after my wedding, I started work on an indie film Change Your Life. Not your typical honeymoon kick off, but we had a blast.

Then we took off Tuesday morning, reached the Oregon border by Wednesday morning, and got to Larry's sister's place by Wednesday evening. Here's our attempt at self-portrait above. The "Welcome to Oregon picture obscured by our silly blissful faces.

In two days of driving, I never got tired or bored. We watched the scenery, prayed out loud, laughed out loud, I read a book out loud. We pointed out interesting images along the highway (like the Indian restaurant next to the truck stop), listened to Eddie Izzard, and created our own soundtrack with our duelling iPods.

The only sketchy event was taking a lesser-traveled route from the 5 interstate to Eureka on the coast. Starting at dusk. We should have reconsidered when the yellow triangle said, "windy road, next 140 miles." It was gorgeous the first hour when there was light, more challenging the second hour when the sky went dark. And more so when the road lost its yellow stripe, and deer and opossums darted out in front of us. Fortunately the deer were a safe distance ahead. But Larry had to brake suddenly to miss the opossum, and eventually had to honk at it and yell, "okay guy, pick a lane!"

But there were wonderful moments on that road as well. Like listening to Enya and "Crown Him With Many Crowns" and "Funeral for A Friend." At one point Larry pulled off, and we got out to gaze at the star-glutted sky.

This is one thing I miss in a big city. The stars. The stars, the stars! The Milky Way and the planets and the constellations. It was so clear you could spot the satellites as they beeped and glided slowly across the sky. Gorgeous.

The next day we ate at a local omelette house and drove north along the Oregon Coast. You can roll the window down and breathe clean air.

I'm having a great time hanging out with Larry and his family: sister Dianna, brother-in-law Tony and nephew Joe. It's been fun bonding, learning more about Larry's dark past, and visiting his old haunts. Last night my new brother-in-law Tony and I discovered we both had Norwegian mothers, and fathers from Pittsburgh.

Today we went to Portland, Larry's home town. We saw the homes he grew up in, visited the Saturday market and Powell's Bookstore. Larry and I decided if we left LA, Portland would be the place to be. Powell's is according to the Lar, the biggest bookstore in the US. A full city block. You could spend all day there.

It's been nice just hanging and having no agenda.

I knew Larry was the right man for me, but I didn't expect things to be so different. But it is. You really do become one with another person. Of course that is going to take a lifetime to really play out, that thing of becoming one with someone. And of course yes, Larry's still a guy. He's going to annoy me, hurt me, upset me, as I will do to him. We've still got to live real life with jobs and bills and too-small apartments.

That all being said ... I really found a soul mate, a partner to go through life with. I spent my childhood unknown in my own family, so it's remarkable to have someone get me, love me, and cherish me. I feel a level of peace, contentment and joy that I never felt before.


Grow old along with me
the best is yet to be
God bless our love

My Wedding Tribute to Larry

Larry and I wrote letters to each other and read them as part of the ceremony. You can read Larry's Letter here. I' ve included the text of mine below:

I’m a writer, but when I sat down to write what I wanted to say, I couldn’t find the words. We’d said so many already, and on this day, what could I say that was new? I had to cut and paste a lot from things I’ve already written.

But I will say, the fact that so many people are here today, is a testament to hope, to finding love, and to the miracle that ‘wow, weird, old people can fall in love too.”

I honestly didn’t expect to find you. For years my friends would say, “it’s because you’re so unique.” I think they were trying to stall for God. I didn’t buy it.

But just a year ago, when Peter Jennings died, and he was my idea of a man with mojo. So I decided to write a list of what I wanted in a man, what gave him mojo:

A Man Who

Loves Jesus, is spiritually mature, But NOT "churchy"
Great Wit, Intelligent, Irreverent
Knows Who He Is
Creative, Visionary
Warm, Likes People (unlike my last Boyfriend)
Wants to Be Of Service
My Age or Older (unlike my last boyfriends)
We make each other laugh
I Respect, I Trust
Inspires Me
Thinks I'm A Catch

Larry, you had all of that. But not only that, you: loved the Beatles, Monty Python, Bob Dylan. And you even knew “Fantasy on a Theme of Thomas Tallis” which was really freaky.

In the first two weeks when we met online, we shared a lot of stories about ourselves. But these were the words that really caught me:

I've spent my entire career working for Christian organizations, and I've finally come to realize that Christians get really weird whenever they get organized. I've witnessed so much crap thrown around in Jesus' name that I'm often surprised that my faith survived. I'm thankful for the few people I've met who really do resonate God. People who've helped me recognize that God isn't often recognizable in churches, but he is very present in the world through simple people who have grasped what love and grace are all about.

Like me, you’d gone through a spiritual crisis and disillusionment. But you’d come out the other side. Your faith was still solid.

I know people talk about the spiritual life as a journey. Well, mine seemed more like a hike up Mount Everest. With no parka, or Sherpa. I wondered if God was involved any more. If he ever was.

In the last year, my hike up this mountain started to show some purpose. Maybe my friendships and writing and work were all connected in a way: to help others up the mountain. People that the church wouldn’t touch. Getting us all up this mountain. The of the Lord. That's what I knew I was supposed to do.

So I’m walking up this mountain, and I reach a plateau, and who should be there, sitting under a tree, but this man. A man with wild hair and an earring and glints of danger in his blue eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asks.
"I don't know. I just know it's up the mountain." I tell him.
"The Mountain of God?"
"Yes! That’s it. Is He up there?
"He's up there alright."
"How do you know, Have you made it to the top?!" I ask him, scared and excited.
"I've been a ways up the hill already."
"Why'd you come back down?"
"To wait."
"Wait for what?"
" You mean, 'wait for whom.' There's a big rock up the hill, you can only get over it if you have a partner. I was waiting for someone to walk with."

"How long have you been waiting?" I ask.
"A long time. Not many people climb up this far."

I feel calm now. I feel good and clean and strong. As if God is smiling on me for getting here, and he’s saying, keep walking. I don't feel so tired.

The man under the tree jumps to his feet. He's lean and wiry and wild, like he seems dangerous. Dangerous in the best kind of way. Like he's got a secret you need to know. He seems familiar, like I already know him.

"It's time. Are you coming with me?"
I hesitate."You can't go up much further alone."
"I don’t know you."
"You know me," he answers.

His mouth is straight and grave but his eyes are wild and alive with that dangerous secret. And I realize why he looks so familiar. I know him from every dream I've had about walking up this mountain. I recognize his face, the way I know I'll recognize the face of God when I see Him.

"Well, but do YOU know ME?" I press him.
"Yes I do. You're the one I was waiting for."

And he holds out his hand. I look down and I see, there's a trail under my feet. Very faint, as if maybe only one or two people have walked it. I think this man has. I think I'll go with him.

Pictures of Our Wedding Superstars

Here are some pics of the SUPERSTARS who helped at my wedding. Jane Anderson, Christopher Myers, and Rebecca Corwin. Jane Anderson helped with flowers and coffee. sted him, made fabulous coffee, and who has a special place in my heart as we share the same birthday.

Michael and Rebecca Corwin offered to help on the day. But from what I hear, they did everything from flowers to food to decorating tables, and Michael got to haul buckets of flowers back to my house.

Chris flew out from New York to do the flowers. You can't see how wonderful they are in the above picture, but they were glorious.

Chris took this picture of me right before the wedding.
The bridal bouquet was made of hydrangea, white roses, eucalyptus, and those rose-looking flowers I don't know the name of them.






Jeannie Noth-Gaffigan took charge and transformed the parish hall into a beautiful reception. And she did it with her 8 month old Jack in tow!

"Levels," she said. Putting the food on different levels, was the key to the look. She shoved a box and a towel under the tablecloth to put the bowl o' nuts on a pedestal. Which is lovely, and distracts from the mismatched putty and gray filing cabinet in the background.

Martin and Debbie Garcia. gave us their time and their ears for the last three months. Martin married us, and Debbie coordinated our wedding.

She walked us through every detail, talked us out of unrealistic ideas. And let me tell you, you want someone to keep you from going nuts. Like when the church's "Meals on Wheels" people locked our refrigerator the day before the wedding, and the church didn't want to come and unlock it because it was "their day off."

Doug Perkins hosted our planning sessions, and kept Larry filled with barbecue pork every week. He took one of his vacation weeks off the week before our wedding. He hosted our rehearsal dinner, played in our wedding, hauled an entire sound system from the church to the reception hall and back to the church. He dressed tables in the reception hall, he helped clean up after we left. And he didn't tag our car with "Just Married" cans.

He also never publicly embarrassed me for razzing on him in an earlier blog because of his infernal attention to detail.

Although in my defense, I was not the only one who went nuts with Doug's attention to detail.

Witnesseth Exhibit A: My beloved bridesmaid Catheryn Brockett, massaging her temples:



If you took any pictures and want to send them, please email me!
suz at susanisaacs dot net

More Wedding Pics

I'm going to post some pictures from our wedding weekend on my website, but until then, here are a few I've received from friends.

Here's Martin and Debbie Garcia, and their daughters: Tristyn, Briana and Brisa. Martin married us, Debbie coordinated our whole wedding. We could NOT have done this without them!










The night before the wedding, we had our rehearsal dinner barbecue.
Briana and Brisa turned daddy into a hobby horse, but he took it all in stride, even if he had to cringe a little.





Larry's friend Buzz brought his wife Shirley and daughter Julie.
Buzz and Larry are pub buddies at Moose's in Pasadena. They talk politics, religion, sports, and well, girls once I came into Larry's life. So Buzz has had a vested interest in our dating life.

Buzz lives in Indiana but comes out to visit his son and daughter who live here in LA.

My dear freind Chris Myers flew out from Los Angeles to do our flowers.

Chris and I met at the Vineyard in 1988. We've been freinds ever since. When I moved out to New York in 1998, I stayed at his place in Amagansett. He was there to prop me up when I got my heart broken a few years ago. And I was visiting Chris in New York this past February when things with Larry were starting to get interesting.
I told Chris at the time that I thought Larry had potential, but I just couldn't tell how interested Larry was. "Just enjoy it," Chris told me. "Enjoy the moment." Okay, I thought. Larry called me from LA a few minutes later.
"See?" Chris smiled. Just go with it.

It was great that Larry and Chris got to hang out at the beach a couple days before the wedding.

Bliss

There was a knot inside my gut
Probably most of my life.
I probably came to know that knot as normal.
Well, that knot inside my gut began to unravel.
Little by little, until I awakened this morning and it was gone. Unstead, there's just contentment.

Thank you, Mr. Wilson

SHOWTIME!

This is it. I slept pretty well, I think I got six hours. My makeup and hair gals are heading over. The special effects crew show up shortly after, and all us bridesmaids are going to look fabulous. I had a waking nightmare: what if my dress got stolen? Well, I'd wear something else. Something borrowed!

That's one thing I don't have. I have something old: me. Something new: the dress. Something blue: the garter. something borrowed ... okay I may grab someone on the way into the sanctuary.

I'm not nervous. I'm excited.

I'm fine.

Except that, there's a portion of the service, "Words from the Couple," where Larry and I are going to say something special to each other, or the people there.

And I am drawing a blank. Writer's Block. Tongue Tied.
Everything seems so trite or redundant.

And I'm a writer!

It'll come to me.

How Many REAL Hours Before The Wedding?

I used to play the count back/forward game with my sister when we were waiting for our summer vacation to start. If it was three weeks away, we'd count backward three weeks and try to remember what we were doing three weeks prior. In that amount of time, we'd be leaving on our trip!

It was our way of coming to understand the time we'd have to wait. What time was, really. Slow when you're not having fun, that's for sure

Larry and I have been playing that count forward/back game. Five weeks ago, we went to a barbecue at some friends house. We counted forward to our wedding, counted back five weeks. And the day seemed still so far away.

I can remember Larry saying to me just last week: yeah it's a full ten days away, and ten days prior to that seemed a bit in the distance.

But today is Thursday. I"m getting married in two days.

Two days ago, Larry got his sister from the air port. My sister and her family arrived that night. Two days ago was only the day before yesterday.

Yesterday, yesterday is so small an amount. I"m getting married in two days.

I can't count in atomic clock times. I have to count in solitude hours. How many hours of alone time will I have between now and the wedding?

Nancy's family moves to their hotel tomorrow afternoon. But then we're going to have a bonfire at the beach. And then the next day the rehearsal isn't until 1pm. But we've got to get there by 11am to put the supplies in the kitchen. And once I do that the rest of the day is going to be ... people people people. Rehearsals, pedicures, rehearsal dinner barbecues.

And then I wake up and the hairdresser arrives. THen I have to be at the church for makeup. Then they take pictures and then .. then it happens.

But it's not just the wedding, i've got to pack for two days at our getaway, and I have to start shooting a movie. So when I leave my house as a single woman I need to pack for a romantic weekend ... AND a movie shoot. and and .. How many real hours of solitude do I have before the wedding?

it depends on how much insomnia I get.

Aaaaaah.

Good thing I'm marrying the right guy.

Budget Weddings Are Expensive

If you really want to do an almost-free wedding, go down to the county courthouse, bring a witness and a bouquet of flowers from Vons, and get yourself married in their windowless “chapel.” The courthouse lectern and US flag on a pole are free. Then you can go home and feel really depressed about the eventlessness of your event.

Actually some friends got married at the courthouse. But they held a reception a few months later. Another couple invited friends out to a restaurant afterward. Because important events need to be experienced, given weight to, and remembered. Your wedding is probably the most important ritual life. Aside from your funeral. which you aren't alive to enjoy. So you might as well make the wedding worth celebrating . And it requires money to celebrate.

You CAN do a nice wedding on a budget. But be prepared to pay in emotional dollars. Because it takes a lot of time and energy to make your few dollars look like a lot.

Larry and I have refused to buy into the $26 billion a year wedding industry. We'll probably end up spending only about $6,000 for everything. Especially "$10 Exit Fee” goes according to plan. Ba DUMP! Hey that's a bargain. I know lots of people who've paid thousands of dollars to get out of church alive. It's called psychotherapy.

Okay, okay, I'll stop.

Larry and I found an adorable church close by. Grace Lutheran Church, with a wonderful wedding coordinator who helped talk me out of my panic when we were four weeks from a wedding and no location. Debbie Berger. I love the Lutherans.

The sanctuary is gorgeous. Red brick, stained glass, high ceilings. Just as I’d imagined on the rare occasions I imagined my own wedding. The Parish hall ... well it looks like a parish hall. Go figure. Raised stage and gray curtains. You can almost see the Sunday School doing the Christmas pageant up there.

“Amazing what a little tulle and streamers can do,” Debbie Berger said, cheerfully.
We were going to need more than streamers. Tulle? Lights? Sparklers? A fog machine? Maybe if we fogged it up, no one would notice the parish hallness of it all

So I started shopping. Trips downtown looking for decorator fabric. Mini silk flowers for wedding favors. What about wedding favors? Bags of Jordan almonds? I hate Jordan almonds. What about table centerpieces? Table cloths? I bought ten table cloths. Found out they were the wrong size. Returned them. Bought more, but they were the wrong shade of blue. Returned those. Trips to Big Lots and Smart and Final and Target and downtown. My friends Ruth and Catheryn came over and helped me assemble centerpieces and wedding favors. We watched movies and listened to music, glued, tied, cut, punched, and ate butter mints. Four days in a row I got home from errands after 9pm. My whole body hurt all over.

I thought about the people who eloped to Vegas. And I thought of the people who’d miss the event if we eloped. No, we were on the right track. It was taking effort, but a good celebration takes effort. It’s going to be a blast.

Anyone want to come hang brown lace fabric at 7 am?
Good with a heavy duty stapler?
Email me, darlin'!

Losing Joy in a Mountain of Details

Last weekend Larry and I met with our wedding planner group: Martin, Debbie and Doug. As reported, we did a read-through of our service, recited our vows, and proceeded to have our first “Freak Out” Moment. It was a weekend to feel freaked out. Not just because of the vows, or because we were in Woodland Hills where it was 119 degrees the day before. The fact we still didn’t have our wedding location was the biggest stress.

But I was carrying high hopes for a certain church, because I’d been a member there for many years, I knew the pastor. When I emailed him he replied they’d love to have us, as long as the admin guy could clear up the details. But in five business days I’d sent three emails, made four calls, left two “live” messages with the receptionist. And no one called me back.

Finally I stopped by the church right before our planning meeting and asked – no, begged – the youth pastor to have someone call me. Tell me anything. Even “no” would put me out of my misery. He nodded sympathetically … perhaps he had also experienced speed and accuracy of communication over there. Still, I left with high hopes to our planning meeting. At this point, the joint was the only viable option we had.

It’s hard to plan a wedding at a location you’re not sure you’re even going to get. Even harder when the planners have never seen it. Doug, Debbie, Martin hadn’t. Only Larry had, and only for a couple minutes. And Larry wasn’t into wedding planning, anyway. “You’re the girl,” he said, the last time his nonparticipation irked me. “The wedding details are more important to the woman. You make the choices of what you want. And I’ll make it happen.”

Okay, I could truck with that. Larry was planning the entire honeymoon and post-reception barbecue; I could do the wedding and reception. Yeah, we were planning a ceremony, a simple reception, then continue with an evening barbecue at Doug’s. That’s how ambitious we were. It kind of evolved that way when we realized we couldn’t do a ceremony in the back yard. Then it was: ceremony at a church, reception in back yard. Then we realized we’d still have 120 people in a back yard. So we figured, ceremony AND reception at a church. Barbecue in the back yard for the die-hard partiers

Now I understand why they say to plan these things well in advance. It’s not just reserving space. It’s allowing time for the foolish ideas to die on the battlefield of reality.

So here we were at Doug’s. We’d just read through the ceremony, and now we’d walk through the reception … at a location we are still not sure we’ll get, and a space no one really knew except me. Still Doug decided to take over as band leader

Okaaaayee,” he said in his thick Ohio accent with the fleeaaaht Veeeaaowals.

Doug: Okeeeay, so you’re gonna …see. Alriiieeet. So … (he adjusted himself in his beanbag chair. Yyer gonna walk out and teeaake yer pictures, righeet? Ya gatta allleeow at least 45 minutes for phoe-toes.

Larry: We aren’t going to take 45 minutes for pictures.
Susan: We’re going to take as many ahead of time as we can.
Doug: Well ya still gatta get the feeamilies togetherrr” Doug reminded us in case we forgot we had families.
Larry: I don’t want that “everyone in ascending order, then descending order” thing.

Doug: Okay so yer gonna leave and get pictures taken and the guests are gonna go where, the peahteeyo?
Susan: No, we’re talking pictures in the patio.
Doug: Well they can go where the cake and refreshments aaahrre.
Susan: That is also on the patio. We’re going to get the last pictures of us on one end of the patio while the food is being set up on the other end.
Doug: Great idea! What’re yer guests gonna do while you’re taking pictures? Give ‘em cake?
Debbie: We can’t give them cake before they cut the cake.
Doug: Then give them refreshments other than cake.
Susan: The refreshments are with the cake, on the patio, where we are taking pictures
Doug: that’s a bad idea.
Susan: You just said it was a good idea!

It was starting to feel like that Guard scene from Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Doug was trying to help us, but I wasn’t appreciating his attention to detail. In fact it was making me nuts. I wrote on my notebook and pushed it over to Larry:

MAKE HIM STOP TALKING.

Larry didn’t say anything. So Doug kept going: All about where to put the cake, how to cut the cake, when to cut the cake, where to situate the bride and groom, etc. etc.

Doug: Okay so then they’re going to announce you and you’re going to come out.
Susan: Wait, coming out of where? The guests are going to COME IN to the patio where we already ARE.
Doug: You can’t do that. We’ll have to sneak you out, let them in, and then bring you back. We’ll announce you and then you do your dance.
Larry: (nervously) We’re doing a dance?
Doug: If you’re going to have the first dance, you gotta do the dance now.
Larry: Why do we have to do the dance now? I thought we were dancing at the barbecue.
Doug: Well fun dancing for everyone. But if you want the reception to feel complete, people are going to expect the First Couples Dance.
Larry: They won’t leave until we dance?
Debbie: Look, you guys can do whatever you want.
Larry: No First Dance. Pretend we’re Baptist.

Doug: Well do you want to have the toasts and speeches now?
Larry: We’re not having speeches.
Susan: Larry, that was the one thing you said you wanted: for it to feel like a community event, and give people a chance to share.
Larry: OK for a best man’s Toast, but I don’t want a bunch of people blabbing on and on.
Susan: So when it’s at the barbecue it’s “sharing,” but at the reception it’s “blabbing.”
Larry: That’s not what I meant.

Doug interrupted us with more details. Where are we going to have the receiving line? He’d suggest the receiving line in a section of the space he’d just suggested putting up the tables. Or have the bride and groom cut the cake before they were introduced.

I wrote on my notebook again: MOVE ON and showed it to Larry.

Larry said nothing. Why wasn’t he saying anything to Doug? Was he too chicken to say it? Or did he think I was being bitchy and I needed to get over myself? Or was he thinking it would just go away? Because it wasn’t.

Doug: What kieend of ceeeake are ya gonna get? Are ya gonna have the cake delivered on Friday or Saturday?
Susan: We don’t know yet.
Doug: Because you don’t want them to deliver on Saturday if they don’t deliver on Saturday.
Susan: That kind of goes without saying.
Doug: Now you’re gonna have to figure
out if the cake will fit in the refrigerator. Have you seen their refrigerator?
Susan: WHY ARE WE GOING THROUGH A VIRTUAL TOUR OF A REFRIGERATOR IN A KITCHEN OF A LOCATION WE DON’T EVEN KNOW IF WE ARE GOING TO GET?

I didn’t actually say that. Instead I got up and went to the kitchen, poured myself a stiff drink of Fresca, came back and announced: You guys are so wonderful, thank you so much. I think I’ve reached my limit on details. I think it’s best I figure this out in my mind and then let you know.

Doug: Well, we're done. We’re done.

We were done. On top of the Vows and the jitters that brought, we’d just walked through a cobweb of details and tried to visualize them happening in a location we didn’t even know we could get.

We stood up. Debbie gave me a hug. “Susan you guys can do whatever you want, OK?”

So when Larry and I were standing out in the steam-iron hot night, we had more than just the vows on our mind. We also had the sea of details.

Susan: Next time I write "Make Doug Stop Talking" and "MOVE ON" on my notebook, I mean it. If anyone's goign to tell him to be quiet, it should be the guy.
Larry: Sorry I only saw "MOVE ON."
Susan: I didn't want you to have to read my mind.
Larry: I just want it to be simple. But I realize even the simplest thing isn’t simple.
Susan: I know it’s frustrating. But there are details we can’t avoid.
Larry: I just don’t want to lose the joy of it.
Susan: Well, it might get buried under the details for a while, but it’ll be there.

He gave me a hug. I felt calmer already.

My married friends would be laughing hard right about now. The “joy of it” had a lot more levels of Lost or Buried ahead of us.

We had still had four weeks before the wedding.
Only four weeks to plan. A whole four more weeks of stress.
Depends on how you look at it.


The "Make Sure He doesn't Leave" Scene from Monty Python & The Holy Grail

FATHER: Guards! Make sure the Prince doesn't leave this room until I come and get him.
GUARD : Not to leave the room even if you come and get him.
FATHER: No, no. Until I come and get him.
GUARD : Until you come and get him, we're not to enter the room.
FATHER: No, no. No. You stay in the room and make sure he doesn't leave.
GUARD : We don't need to do anything apart from just stop him entering the room.
FATHER: No, no. Leaving the room.
GUARD : Leaving the room. Yes.
FATHER: All right?
GUARD : Right.
FATHER: Right.
GUARD : Can he leave the room with us?
FATHER: No, no. No. You just keep him in here and make sure he--
GUARD : Oh, yes. We'll keep him in here, obviously, but if he had to leave --- FATHER: No, no, no, no. Just keep him in here--
GUARD : Until you or anyone else--
FATHER: No, not anyone else. Just me.
GUARD : Just you.
FATHER: Get back.
GUARD : Get back.
FATHER: All right?
GUARD : Right. No problems.
FATHER: Where are you going?
GUARD : We're coming with you.

Writing The Vows. I'm gonna do WHAT?

Martin: Larry, will you have Susan to be your wedded wife, to live together in the covenant of faith, hope, and love according to the intention of God for your lives together in Jesus Christ? Will you listen to her inmost thoughts, be considerate and tender in your care of her, and stand by her faithfully in sickness and in health, and, preferring her above all others, accept full responsibility for her every necessity for as long as you both shall live?

Larry: Sure.

Martín kept reading while Larry and I snickered quietly to ourselves.

Don’t worry, it wasn’t the real thing, we were at our planning meeting. And tonight we had to go over the Order Of Service that Martín had emailed me, to see what we liked, didn’t like, etc.

Larry didn't want to do the read-through.
Larry: I’ll take a look and edit it later.
Susan: But we need to hear it out loud, for length.

Besides, I’d emailed him a different Order days before.
Larry: You want me to edit THAT? It’s massive!
Susan: I know. I’ve already edited down the first half.
He never touched it. I wasn't going to let him off the hook now.

So, here we were reading Martín's Order, or what I thought was his: meaning, he'd used it before and liked it. But tonight, the way he was tripping over the words, I wondered if he’d ever seen it before.

And that gave me hope. Because this Order was annoying. For one thing it was too long. I’m all for updating the thees and thous. But this modern version, for every thou they removed, they added back ten more words. And sappy ones at that. Wedding Buzz words like dreams, goals, potential, treasures, shared treasures, being each other’s treasure, maybe a search for buried treasure in there. And there was a long analogy about hands. “Hand in hand you step out in faith. Be firm in your commitment. Don't let your grip become weak. The hand you freely give each other is both the strongest and most tender part of the body…

The hand is the most tender? Whoever wrote that never had shiatsu.

Look ... if you are going to rewrite something beautiful and poetic that's worked for 500 years ... “with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship…” you better do a dang good rewrite.

Here are two versions of the vows.

1: I, __, take you ___, to be my wedded (husband/wife), to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part.

2: I ___, take you ___, to be my (husband/wife), loving you now and as you grow and develop into all that God intends. I will love you when we are together and when we are apart; when our lives are at peace and when they are in turmoil; when I am proud of you and when I am disappointed in you. I will honor your goals and dreams and help you to fulfill them. From the depth of my being, I will seek to be open and honest with you. I say these things believing that God is in the midst of them all.

From the Depth Of My Being?
When I am proud of you and when I am DISAPPOINTED in you?

Nuh-Uh. Not in MY wedding.

Yeah, I was punchy. We all were. Larry and Doug started coming up with their own modernized version of the service.

“So like, are you into this?”
"Totally."
Or
"Are you gonna be cool with this for a while?"
"Yo, I’m down with it."

They laughed pretty hard. We all did. But what was so funny? The ceremony and the vows meant something. Words have power in them. so why were we laughing?

Because we were scared! Because in five weeks, we were going to be saying these words in front of a hundred people, and we'd have to mean it!

When we were finally finished, asked Martín if he'd done this version often. No, he'd just sent it as a template.
Martín: I thought you were going to edit it!
Susan: Here's my edit: Wing it!

Martín was relieved. If those speeches were to listen to, they were harder to recite. With a straight face, anyway.

When the evening was over, Lar walked me my car. We were in Woodland Hills, where it had reached 119 F the previous day. Walking outside was like walking into a steam iron.

So how did all of that feel?
Um, weird
Yeah, weird.
Scary
Yeah, scary!
I am going to need time alone, you know.
Me too. Lots of it.
It’s important to keep our outside friends and activities.
Shaa! We can’t expect the other person to hang around every minute.
Of course not. I’m going to need serious time away from you!
I had a life before you came along!
For the last 20 years!
30 years!
....
Feel better?
Yeah.
Oh my gosh I love you.
Oh my gosh I love you so much.
I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with you.
Me too!
Minus the time alone.
Of course.
....
So, are you gonna be into this for a while?
Totally.

Want to book an acting role? Get married during the shoot

There’s an actor adage: Want to book a role? Plan a vacation.
To which I’ll add: Want to book a BIG role? Plan a wedding.

My friend Brian Godawa is helping rewrite a script for an indie film comedy. He recommended me to the producers. I had a blast in the audition. I kicked butt. They emailed me that they’d be talking to me soon. I emailed them back: my friend Catheryn is coming in to read for you. She also kicks butt. Catheryn did indeed audition, and she also kicked butt.

That evening the director called:
Director: we'd LOVE to have you on the film. But there are two crucial days of filming that the entire cast has to be available: August 26th and 27th.
Susan: Uh, I’m getting married on August 26th.
Director: How important is the guy to you? Come on, there are plenty of guys out there.
Susan: You never tried internet dating.
Director: (laughing) We’ll see if we can film around you on Saturday. We're thinking of casting your friend Catheryn in a part. How do you like working with her?
Susan: You kidding? We've done sketch comedy together, we do a monthly reader's show together. She’s hysterical.
Director: Great!!
Susan: She's also my bridesmaid.
(pause)
Director: Could we hire stunt doubles?
Susan: For your movie or my wedding?

Catheryn assured them later: we can all work this out. It’s what we do.

Fantastic News! both Catheryn and I booked plum roles on this indie comedy. The script is really funny, the producers/directors are terrific. And we even know Brian, the writer.

Challenging News! I’m working Monday through Thursday before my wedding. I’ll be back to work Sunday morning. The Sunday morning after my wedding night, I’ll be out the door and on the set by 8 am.

Do the math.

Larry’s really got his heart set on having a barbecue later on after the wedding and reception. I want that communal moment where I can sit back with my friends and say, ‘wow, look what God has done.'

That's the Wedding Dilemma. You want to share this Wow moment with your friends. But if you’ve got lots of friends, that's a lot of Wows to rack up at a reception. Unless you have a Larry-style barbecue later! Brilliant! Whoever wants to schlep out to Woodland Hills deserves a grilled pork loin, a beer, and a Wow! moment with Larry.

BUT helloooooo, I’ve been waiting patiently, lo these months, to have my own wow with Larry. And if we're barbecuing late, and I gotta work on a movie early ... well, do the algebra.

I asked Brian to push for a LATE START on Sunday.
Maybe we could get you a conjugal trailer for the shoot? he suggested.

Dude, I've waited for the Wow moment. Not an Ewww moment. Pressboard and naugahyde on wheels is Ew.

Well, Jacob waited seven years for Rachel. Twice. Of course Larry and I are gonna enjoy our wedding night. But if you come to the barbecue, do me a favor: have your beer, your Wow, and get outta Dodge.

This ain't rocket science.

Married in Six Weeks and No Location

I’m getting married in six weeks. We don’t have a location. We have at least 100 people coming, and we don’t have a location. It’s because we have over 100 people that we no longer have a location.

We have six weeks to find one.

I’m not worried. Everything about this relationship has moved quickly (if you don’t count the 21 years as a single adult, the bad relationships, the diseased theology, the therapy that it took to get over the diseased theology and bad relationships, to the point where I’m able to have a relationship at all). Then yes, it moved quickly.

We met online in December. Our first date was January 6th. By the end of March we knew. We got engaged in May. We didn't set the date until just four weeks ago. We sent out the wedding evite … yes EVITE ... only last week. We’ve got six weeks. We’ll find a location.

I think.

We once considered inviting just the immediate family. But I've got a big extended family, and I want them there. And we both have friends whom we consider family, and we want them there as well. These are the people who’ve known us all these years: who knew us single and broken and lonely, in bad relationships and broken and lonely. Or single and at peace with it and ready to face the end of life alone.

These are the people of our soul family who've known our stories, who've participated in them. The people who are part of the reason Larry and I got to this place. So we invited them all ... even the ones who live 3,000 miles away who couldn't take the time or money to come. We invited them because we consider them our family and part of our story and we'd want them here if they could've made it.

The thing is they’re coming. All of them. People as far away as Washington and Virginia and New York. They're coming.

But instead of shouting, "YAY HOORAY" we're screeching, "YIIIIIIIKES!"

Because up until last Friday, we were going to get married in Larry’s friend Doug’s back yard. You can’t fit 120 people into a back yard. Not for a sit-down barbecue, which Larry wanted to have. I didn't want to have a barbecue. The stress of it made me nervous.

Well then, what do you want to have? Larry asked.
And Debbie and Doug and Catheryn asked.
And the wedding planning books asked: what DO you want your wedding to look like?

My friend, actress Mary MacDonald is getting married in October, and she too is going through Wedding Planning hell. She's got a Wedding Planning for Dummies book and vented about it:
"The book asked me: What does your ideal wedding look like?
I answered: I’m thin and someone else is planning it."

I never daydreamed about my ideal wedding. I was too busy trying to imagine the groom. I knew that I wanted the groom to be someone who loved Jesus but wasn’t geeky religious. But the men who wanted to date me never fit that profile. They didn't dig Jesus. So I tried really hard to imagine them at the top of the aisle. But my vision got dark and depressing: I'm walking up the aisle toward The Cad or Captain Bringdown, now I'm screaming, "no no no!" or I'm on the analyst couch crying, 'why did I go through with it,' or I'm having another nightmare, I'm buck naked with my math homework blank and I'm hitting myself thinking, "Why did I marry that jackass?!"'

Until I met Larry. The more I knew him, the more I could see him at the top of the aisle, waiting for me. The less I could see anyone else at the top of the aisle. Then I could NO LONGER NOT SEE him at the top of the aisle. I could NO LONGER NOT SEE me walking up the aisle to meet him. Imagining myself marrying Larry has been the most natural, inevitable, and easy thing to do.

But the WHERE?

Well, OK: I guess I've always seen it happening it a church. I had great experiences growing up in church. So I could see myself getting married in a church. That is, a church with beautiful stained glass and gorgeous grand hymns sung by a choir that sang like they believed it.

But the churches Larry and I looked at were depressing. Run down. Or all modern Pentecostal décor: mauve chairs and big media screens and no stained glass because they blocked out the light so the audience can watch the big media screens. Or they were gorgeous but we weren’t Catholic. Or they were gorgeous but too expensive. Or gorgeous but booked 18 months in advance.

Then along came Doug, opening his home to us. So we went and looked at his back yard. And I thought, we put enough beautiful lights in the trees, and we sing music and hymns like we mean it, it’ll be great.

So the back yard worked. Because we A) didn’t have a lot of time, and B) didn’t have a lot of money. But now we have C) a lot of friends. So having the wedding in the back yard is D) insane and a fire hazard.

You could hire caterers, and tables, and valets to shuttle the 100 people in and out of the location.

Now, having it at Doug's house is no longer a moneysaver.

And money is an issue. Not just for money, but because Larry and I are both disgusted by the wedding industry. That’s what it is now: an industry. Churning out 10,000 dollar dresses you only wear once, and online bridal registries selling much stuff you convince yourself you really need, like a cake dome and a pizza wheel and a $100 trash can and inflatable beds and $300 mixers. And YIKES. Not to mention bride magazines and package weddings and hotels and ...

My parents got married at a Lutheran Church in Long beach. They had cake and punch and peanuts in the fellowship hall. Everyone had a great time.

Aha. That’s my ideal wedding. A wedding at a Lutheran church, with cake and punch and peanuts in the fellowship hall. If people want to join us and go dancing later, fine.

SO that’s what we’re looking at now: finding a church and doing the ceremony there. Maybe we still have the reception at Doug’s. Larry’s given up on the idea of a barbecue. Praise the Lord. I didn’t want to buy three gas grills and hire four barbecue chefs to assemble and cook kebabs or pork loins for 100 people. The heat from the BBQ radiating onto our packed-in guests, pushing them toward heat strokes.

Anyway. Now we are looking at having the wedding at a local church. And the reception at Doug’s, with only finger foods and dessert. Or, we have a meet and greet reception at the church: Cake and punch and peanuts. Then the die-hards can go over to doug’s for a die-hard party.

What if everyone wants to come over to Doug’s for the party? Then you end up doing two parties and defeat the point of having the first party.

What if this church near Doug's isn't available?
What about that church in West LA? You could have the reception in the church cafeteria.
What about a park? people could bring umbrellas for the shade.
What if you called a church in Culver City?
What if you can't get any of them?

I understand why people elope. I also understand why people don' elope, why instead they endure the stress and have a real wedding. Because this isn’t just about Larry and me. This is a celebration that everyone who’s invited is a part of.

This weekend Larry was over. We read a couple chapters of this really great book, Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. Later he was dozing on my couch. His face was quiet and serene. He looked like he was 18 years old, just so adorable. I leaned over and sang him some Al Green,
“I’m so in love with you, whatever you want to do is alright with me.”

I've never felt so at home and at peace and delighted and full of joy. I sure do love that guy.

Earlier today I met my friend Alicia for a yoga class. Alicia’s an actress, secular but spiritual, grad-school educated, so well-traveled, has her dating profile on Salon.com. Super smart and gorgeous, knows how to enjoy life. And she’s still single. Go figure. Back in December I’d been emailing Larry only a couple weeks and about to meet for the first time. Alicia and I were walking out of yoga and I said to her, "I think this guy could be the one. He may very well NOT be, but if he Is, I’ll remember this moment, telling you he could be the one.” She’s is just one of the people who’s watched all of this, who’s seen her own story in ours. And she’s excited to be there.

So despite the stress, I wouldn't want to elope. I want to stand up in front of all these people who love us and are invested in our story. I want to do something wonderful for them, too.

I emailed Larry tonight: “So many people want to come because we're a miracle, and a story of hope. Let's not forget that. All these people who are coming, they’re coming because they’ve known and loved us all these years: all the years we stopped hoping for love to come our way. All those years we recited Habakkuk: “though the fig tree does not bud..." the years we cried and complained and asked, "what the Eff, God?" And now we've found each other. This is a fairy tale in a way. But it isn't a Cinderella story. This is a fairy tale in that it’s about happy endings. But it’s grounded in real life, the stuff of real life, and the new beginnings of real life. Total strangers found our blog and are tuning in. Let’s give them a great story to be happy about.

Today is just the beginning. SO I didn't find Larry at 21. But we've got a lot of living to do for the next 30 years or so. I love that guy more than I knew my heart could hold.

So we’re going to get married in six weeks. We’re not sure of the details, except that about a hundred people we love are gonna be there with us. And we’re going to sing hymns like we mean it. And love songs too.

I’m so in love with you
Whatever you want to do is alright with me
Let me be the one you come running to
I want to spend my life with you
Let’s stay together
Loving you whenever
times are good or bad, happy or sad ...

Fun Facts and Fotos of the Felicitous Couple

In 1973, Susan and Larry looked like this:

In 1974, Larry and Susan looked like this:

They both took geeky family pictures. (He in '74, She in '76)
Only Larry's parents look decidedly more happpy.

If you mushed Susan's brothers together, you'd get Larry.

But that's just because beauty recognizes itself.
Oh, just go with it.

Planning a Wedding in Two Months

Do you know when you want your wedding to be?
Yes, August 26
But what time?
Late afternoon?
But what time is that? When does the sun set on August 26?
Uh, hold on let me check my occipital lobe to see if I have that information stored. No. Sorry.

SO the questions began.

Last night, Larry and I had a planning meeting with our amazing friends who have stepped up to help us get this wedding on the calendar: Doug who’s hosting the reception; Martin who’s going to marry us, his wife Debbie who’s coordinating; and Catheryn, my friend, bridesmaid, and Capo in the Susan Mafia.

But before the meeting, Larry and I had to figure out where we were going to have the ceremony. So we trolled Doug’s neighborhood in the hot Sunday sun. We checked out the parks in the area. A dog park. With no shade. You do the math. We did find another park that had one spot of shade right next to the gymboree playground. I could just see it now …

“I Larry, take thee Sus—hey crybaby on the SLIDE, Shut the #$*# UP! – to love, honor and cherish..”

Frankly I always wanted to get married in a church. I wanted to feel the presence of God, and I feel the presence of God in church. Well the old kind. The kind with stained glass, an organ echoing against the stone walls, the pews worn with prayers and worship.

There’s a bunch of churches near Doug’s house. But the area was developed after 1960. So the churches were built in that same era. Actually, I think one guy built all of them. It’s the A-Frame style Swiss Chalet rooftop. No box underneath, just a tall roof. Maybe some architect donated his blueprint to every denomination left of Catholic.

Still, there was one of those RIGHT around the corner from Doug.
“We should at least check it out,” I told Larry
“Yeah, it would be so convenient,” he said, so hopeful as we drove into the deserted parking lot.

I grew up in one of those A-Frame churches. Cinder Blocks. Sliding glass door. A thin window column every ten feet, floor to ceiling textured glass. Some rows had those slatted vent windows. You know, those windows you see on 1950's apartments and think, wow, that idea did not age well. Anyway, at my church they got rid of those slatted windows. Not at this church around the corner from Doug’s. They hadn’t added on. A quick look around the backside of the church confirmed they hadn’t cleaned up for thirty years either. There was a trove of rusted objects, and upturned kiddy pool, and the slatted windows were chock-full of cobwebs and insect carcasses. I envisioned the bridesmaids using the back entrance and getting sall bug skeletons in their hems.

I pushed one of the bubble windowpanes to look in. It wasn’t horrible. But it wasn't the inspiring, beauty-filled church I had imagined.

Larry and I continued down the street, checking out the other churches. Same thing. We did find one whose exterior was 1940s Colonial Revival. But we got a peek inside. Any 1940s Colonial had been erased by 1980s Pentecostal. Down to the mauve carpet and the TV screen.

After driving around a couple hours, the question became: “Which church was the least depressing?” But if the point of having it in a church was to feel God’s presence in the beauty, this wasn’t it.

So we drove over to Doug’s, went into his back yard, and took a good look. It was entirely in shade. It had a few glitches of “dead space” but other than that, it was doable.

Susan: Well, do we do it all here in one location?
Larry: I don't want you to feel disappointed later. I'm fine with it. I'm a guy, I live in a box and use plastic utensils. But you're the girl. Girls spend their lives planning this moment.

The only thing I'd planned was to marry a man who loved God. and that I didn't want a home-mortgage priced weddings. My parents got married at a little Lutheran church and had cake, peanuts and punch in the fellowship hall. I liked the idea of simple and inexpensive. Like the Shaker hymn: Tis a gift to be simple, tis a gift to be free, Tis a gift to come down to where we ought to be.

So was this the place? Well, if we put enough twinkle lights in the trees and flowers in the flower beds, it could contain as much beauty as stained glass, and the holiness and beauty God decided to bring on the day.

So Doug’s back yard is going to be the wedding ceremony and the reception site.

We only had two months before the wedding, but we already our location, an officiant, the wedding party, and a wedding coordinator. I even had my dress. We were doing well.

Until the planning meeting.

Debbie and Martin just got married and she’s coordinated weddings, so she knows what she is doing. Thank God for her. But boy did she open my eyes.

Debbie: Paper Invitations?
Susan: No we’re doing evite.
Debbie: Programs?
Susan: Yes.
Martin: Kelly Paper has good stationery.
CJ: Or you can go to Target, they’ve got stuff on sale.
Susan: That goes on my list of things to do. Next?

Then there was the discussion about table centerpieces.
Susan: Nothing. We’re wheeling the tables in after the reception. People will just sit down.
Debbie: Nothing, you sure?
Of course what am I thinking? I was going to end up with a wedding that resembled an IRS audit.

Martin: Do you want Communion?
Susan: Yes.
Martin: Okay you need the cup and plate.
Deb: Do you want a kneeling bench?
Susan: Uh…
Deb: How about a canopy? You can get married under a canopy.
Doug: But my back yard is filled with shade trees
Deb: You can get one of those trellises.
So Doug, Debbie and Martin discussed the merits of buying or renting a trellis. And if it were more expensive at Michael's or Moskatels, etc etc until I interrupted.
Susan: Hey. I don’t know if I want a trellis.

But the fact is, we did need something to demarcate the altar area. Didn't we? This is where I get confused. It IS a gift to be SIMPLE, but FREE might start looking, well, CHEAP.

Martin: What kind of ceremony do you want?
Susan: Traditional.
M: No readings?
Susan: Well, yes, readings.
M: What do you want read?
Larry and I looked at each other. We hadn't thought of that.
Susan: I’ll put that on my list of things to do.
Martin: Do you want to write your own vows?
I imagined the Jonathan Livingston Seagull vows I’ve heard. “I Mackenzie, take you Taylor, to be my life partner and shaman, from this day forward, until we transcend into air ferns in our next lifetime." ACK.

Susan: I want traditional vows.
Martin: HOW traditional?
Susan: Well I don’t want them in Olde English. But what's in the Book of Common Prayer.
CJ: Wait! You can’t just go in, do quick vows and be done.
Susan: I didn't say that.
CJ: I know, but you guys are writers! You gotta make it your own. And Larry, you’re all about this new postmodern emergent Christianity. What do you want?
Everyone looked at Larry. He hadn't said much through the meeting. He'd just held my hand. Now Catheryn was asking.
Larry: I want it to be a community experience with our friends.
CJ: Well, what does that mean in terms of the ceremony?
Larry: I don't want people to just sit back and not participate.
Debbie: But people ARE participating by watching you.
Larry: Okay but I want more interactive.
So then it became a discussion about the ceremony and people getting a time to say something like in the reception toast and then there was the music to think of and .. and ... my list of things to figure out grew and grew. I was staying sane. Until we got to the food.

Larry wanted a barbecue. But the wedding is a Saturday afternoon in August. We don’t want our friends in front of a barbecue grill. Do we hire someone to cook on the day? Do we cook ahead of time? Doug suggested cold salmon. And Thai noodles.
CJ: And a really beautiful vegetable! Like asparagus!”
Larry: Ick, asparagus!
CJ: Then what vegetable, Larry?
Larry: … uh…
Susan: Larry loves any vegetable that’s MEAT.

Our plan had been for us to provide half the food and do the rest pot luck. Debbie's soft and kind eyes turned up as she advised us against it. Not a full blown pot luck. she instead suggested we ask a select group of friends to help.
Debbie: Like, 12 friends who can bring salad for 20 people. Or bread for 20 people.
CJ: or Asparagus for 20 people!
Debbie: So you each ask six friends to help.
Larry: that might be kind of hard for me.
So there I went with my envisioining. Like I’m going to ask one of my friends to bring enough asparagus for 20 people? In the midst of the talk about side dishes, I overheard Larry joke to Doug how he "was a guy," he just wanted to get to the wedding night.
Hey now, I interjected.
Larry:L You weren't supposed to hear that.
Susan: But I did. And believe me, I want to get to the wedding night too. But we've got a room of planners deciding our side dish for us, so ...

Deb: Cake? What are you going to do for cake?
Susan: Costco.
CJ: No, you don’t want that!
Doug: There’s a place around the corner it makes really amazing cakes.
Susan: Larry and I don’t eat cake. I got nice Costco cake for my mom’s 80th birthday.
D: But look, or just a little bit more you can get a nice one.
Susan: How much nicer for how much more?
Doug: a hundred bucks
A hundred here, a hundred there, makes hundreds and hundreds spent on STUFF.
Susan: The cake isn’t that important to us. Sure we’ll have it, but just something for the toast.
CJ: But this is your wedding cake!
Martin: I know a place in Southgate that will do a cake for 300 bucks.
Doug: I tell you this place round the corner, Chaka Khan gets her cake there.

Susan: OKAY, EVERYONE. I don’t have the money to pay for a Chaka Khan cake! If I say I don’t want an expensive cake, and I say it more than once, then stop it. OK?

I don’t remember much after that, except that Larry rubbed my back a little. I still wrote down what everyone said, and replied that I’d put in on my list.

Then I got home and thought, where the heck was Larry tonight? He didn’t say anything! Except how he wanted the wedding to be a community experience. And that he didn’t like asparagus. Or salmon. Was I doing all of this by myself??

So I wrote a long email. I vented about being pressured to get an expensive Chaka Khan cake. And do a barbecue for a hundred people. And asking 12 friends to bring salad. Which 12 friends, MINE? And I couldn’t pay for it. I pleaded for him to offer to do some of the tasks. “And if you want to joke how you’re just a guy and you just want to get to the honeymoon suite, then why are we doing a barbecue? Let’s skip this EFFING barbecue, and just have cake and fruit and peanuts like my parents did, and be done with it!

I was smart. I didn’t send it. I went to sleep. But the next morning I wasn't so smart. I woke up and, without I coffee or a quiet time, I pressed the SEND key. Before proofing for stinging barbs like "Let's skip this effing barbecues" or my own contradictions: I don’t care about cake!” /Let’s just have cake and be done with it!” Or grousing about which of MY 12 friends we'd be asking for help ... without taking into account I made up for most of the guest list. Heck, Larry's family is four people. I have 21 first cousins.

THEN I went and had coffee and a quiet time. It was an Old Testament verse about God leading his people besides streams of water, on level paths, "because I am Israel's father." And about how Israel would again rejoice over God's bounty. "They will be like a well-watered garden, and they will sorrow no more."

You'd thihk those verses would be comforting. But I'm going through a shift in my thinking about the Bible. I used to open it up, read a scripture and immediately apply it to my own life. But I realize I can't necessarily do that. I mean, if I claim those verses as mine, am I not making God into my personal genie? Yet, if I look at his character in the above verses, he’s speaking like a tender father. So wouldn’t it be true that he would have at least the capacity to think of me in that same way? So how involved is God, anyway?

Larry replied to my email. The "effing barbecue" line wasn't exactly a feel-good moment for him. And he wasn't being quiet all night to avoid responsibility. Again, I was the girl. He wanted it to be MY special day. He wanted me to pick what I wanted.
Larry: Susan, if you need something, just ask me."

Interesting how, in trying to communicate, the first thing to go was Just asking?
I apologized, but I still felt crappy. The guy who’s on my side, wanting to make this special for me, is the guy I vented at. He’s planning the honeymoon. It’s his friends who are hosting us, marrying us, coordinating us. I'm the one bringing the crowds of relatives.

I watched people stress out over weddings. I told myself I wouldn’t do it. But I realize that a certain amount of stress is going to happen. I’m so grateful for our planning posse, and for Larry.

And after all, the posse had some good tips. I'm going to downtown LA to check out wholesale grosgrain ribbon and votive candles. Hey, when you hear a good idea, you gotta go with it.

Up The Mountain

If you haven't read it yet, first read: We're Not Dating Anymore

I wrote the following not long ago, and it never seemed more timely to post:

A couple of years ago I experienced my own dark night of the soul. Or as I like to call it now, my middle-class white girl's tragedy. It started with a bad breakup and continued into the unraveling of my spiritual life. Well, they often talk about the spiritual life as a path, or a journey. Mine seemed more like a hike up Mount Everest. With no parka.

Add love to the equation and: no sherpa either. The men I dated had the creativity, vision and cojones. Vision, that's what made them attractive to me. However, their visions included a creative life, but not a spiritual one. My vision was for God. That was the road I was on. So dating these men, particularly the last one: was like trying to climb a mountain. The Mountain to God. The man could only go so far before he stopped: “I can't go with you. I don't find God in church."
“Well, I do find God there,” I replied. “Or at least, that's the best place I know to look.”
He never would. He couldn't, or wouldn’t, walk the mountain any further.
I went on ahead alone.

And as soon as I rounded the next hill, I saw that the trail washed out: There was no safe, real church anymore. It was just the "hair gel churches" with the Purpose Driven Life programs, all the answers fit into a box. I was devastated. I'd never felt that alone and abandoned by God, ever.

I tried to run back down the mountain, but the bridge was washed out. There was no way down. And no trail up either. What was I supposed to do? I could no longer NOT go up the mountain. I had to press onward, I had to find him. Even if it meant climbing up the rocks, even if I fell to my death. I had no other choice.

That's where I left the story in my darkest hour. I had no choice but to keep walking.

In the last year, my hike up this mountain started to show some life, some purpose. I'd started to see a vision for my life: my writing, my relationships and friendships, teaching, whatever, all were connected in a way, to help others up the mountain. Others that the church wouldn’t touch: lesbians and new-agers and writers and yoga friends … walking with them up the Mountain of the Lord. That's what I knew I was supposed to do.

And in a short few months, I realize now, I reached the next chapter. It looks something like this:

I’ve got enough strength to keep walking up the mountain. I reach a rest stop. And who should be there, sitting under a tree, but a man. A man with wild hair and an earring and glints of danger in his blue eyes.

"Where are you going?" he asks.
"I don't know. I just know it's up the mountain." I tell him.
"The Mountain of God?"
"Yes! That’s it. Is He up there?
"He's up there alright."
"How do you know, Have you made it to the top?!" I ask him, scared and excited.
"I've been a ways up the hill already."
"Why'd you come back down?"
"To wait."
"Wait for what?"
" You mean, 'wait for whom.' There's a big rock up the hill, you can only get over it if you have a partner. I was waiting for someone to walk with."

"How long have you been waiting?" I ask.
"A long time. Not many people climb up this far."

I feel calm now. I feel good and clean and strong. As if God is smiling on me for getting here, and he’s saying, keep walking. I don't feel so tired.

The man under the tree jumps to his feet. He's lean and wiry and wild, like he seems dangerous. Dangerous in the best kind of way. Like he's got a secret you need to know. He seems familiar, like I already know him.

"It's time. Are you coming with me?"
I hesitate.
"You can't go up much further alone."
"I barely know you."
"You know me," he answers.

His mouth is straight and grave but his eyes are wild and alive with that dangerous secret. And I realize why he looks so familiar. I know him from every dream I've had about walking up this mountain. I recognize his face, the way I know I'll recognize the face of God when I see Him.

"Well, but do YOU know ME?" I press him.
"Yes I do. You're the one I was waiting for."

And he holds out his hand. I look down and I see, there's a trail under my feet. Very faint, as if maybe only one or two people have walked it. I think this man has. I think I'll go with him.

We're Not Dating Anymore

Today I’m sitting in a Coffee joint in Santa Barbara. What better way to spend a Saturday morning than in a beach town with good coffee and free wi-fi. Writing on my Mac G4 laptop, and some hot guy typing across from me.

Thursday was Larry’s birthday, May 11. We’d had it planned for a couple months to come up here for this weekend. “You don’t need to come over on my birthday,” he brushed it off. “We’ve got the whole weekend to celebrate.”

But I surprised him at his apartment in Pasadena on Thursday, with a couple of gifts. The last one was the shape of a thick CD pack. It was a 60 gig black iPod video. He was speechless.

“I figured you should get this today. That way you can spend the next 24 hours loading it with road trip music.”

He swallowed and laughed, there were tears choking him up. And that’s what he did, from Thursday noon to Friday at 1pm when we left for Santa Barbara.

I used to go up here a lot when I was at UCLA, because my sister Nancy and her future husband Phil were at UCSB at the same time. I know State Street pretty well, but as you can imagine it’s changed a lot in 20 years. OUCH. It’s been over 20 years. Anyway, State Street is crammed with all the nationalized chain stores, from PF Changs to Urban Outfitters to Banana Republic. There’s no more Salvation Army on State Street. Forced out by rising lease costs I imagine. But the Alpha Thrift Store is still here. Go figure.

Larry remarked on the vibe: it’s a transition town, he said: half way between So Cal and No-Cal cultures. It’s true; the Spanish architecture is well maintained. It feels like a town with an old Spanish mission. It’s got that sleepy upper class feel, though. Casual California with blue blood money.

We walked all the way down State Street toward the beach, looking for a place to eat. We passed a couple of Indian restaurants, but I thought we should walk the whole street.
There’s this 100 year-old joint called Joe’s Café from whence came the scrambled egg dish, “Original Joe’s Special.” The place looks like a saloon you’d find in New York's Little Italy, or old San Francisco. It’s near Highway 101, so I imagine it used to be a stage coach stop. The sign out in front used to say “Eat At Joe’s.” Red and white checkerboard tablecloths, the real OLD saloon bar, old style booths, with high wooden backs and a flattened rectangle cushion to park your behind. We were early and so the waitress sat us at the last available booth.

Larry sighed and said, “This has been the best birthday ever.”
Yeah, well when have you ever gotten a 60 gig iPod,” I joked.
“I got everything I wanted,” he started. “Except one thing.”
“Oh, what?” I asked.

I guess I knew what was about to happen. But it didn't look like anything I had imagined. I realized I didn't have any of how this was going to happen. And now it was going to happen, at least I thought it was. Or is that what I was thinking? My thoughts were probably something along the lines of "Oh boy here it is, well go with it, yea! How natural! I feel so calm! Oh gosh am I sweating? is HE sweating?"

He pulled out a piece of paper, on which he’d written down an excerpt from “The Little Prince.”

"What does that mean — 'tame'? asked the Little Prince.
"'It is an act too often neglected,' replied the Fox. 'It means to establish ties.'"
"Just that,' said the Fox. "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy, just like a thousand other little boys, and I have no need of you. And for your part, you have no need of me. To you, I'm nothing more than a fox like a thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you shall be unique in all the world. And to you, I shall be unique in all the world.'

"I'm beginning to uunderstand,' said the Little Prince. 'There is a flower — I think she's tamed me.'

"'It's the time you spent with your Rose that makes your Rose so important,' the Fox said. 'Men have forgotten this truth. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your Rose.'

"'The men where you live grow 5,000 roses in a garden and do not find in it what they're looking for,' the Little Prince said. 'Yet what they're looking for could be found in one single rose.' “

He put the paper down, pulled out a ring box, opened it and said, “I've grown a garden with 5,000 roses and never found what I was looking for. But I've found it in one single rose. You. You've tamed me, Susan Emily. Will you marry me?"

We’d been talking about it for a while now: “When we get married ... as a couple we'll do this or that ..." And now, here it was: the question I knew was coming without knowing when or how or where. And as much as we both knew my answer, it flowed off of my tongue, simple and calm.
“I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more.”

I moved to his side of the booth, smiled, we laughe. I was so calm and unemotional. Until I burst into tears.

The waitress came over with the food. “Oh, I see a ring box!”
We just got engaged,” Larry spoke for us, as I was busy wiping the mascara out of my eyes.

“Oooooo!!! She squealed. She was a old hippie lady, maybe late forties. “So many people get engaged here!” She held her chubby hands to her heart.

She came by later … “How’s the food-aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!” her big red lips peeled open in laughter, and she answered her own question.

We got out onto the street and I jumped up and down. “Lauren Glade Wilson, I’m going to marry you!”

A while later I called my sister.
"Hi, Susie! Phill just took me out to dinner for our anniversary. What's up with you?"

"Oh yeah, it's your anniversary ! Well add another anniversary of sorts to it.

This morning we found out where they had good coffee and free wi-fi, and dragged our computers there. If you lived here in Santa Barbara, if the Coffee Cat was your hang out, it be an interesting picture, to see this couple walk in, dragging their backpacks, conferring with each other on what’s the best place to park their laptops, together or apart. Maybe the couple would look eccentric, or pathetic, or just from out of town.

But the view from here is, I don’t know how I’ve managed to find someone for whom finding good coffee, free wi-fi and an outlet is the ideal Saturday morning. A guy whose first instinct is to log on to Christianity Today or Beliefnet or some website on the emerging church. Really, where do you find that kind of compatibility? Nerds in love. Hip cool hot old nerds in love.

So the long and the short is, Larry and I aren’t dating any more. He's not my boyfriend. He's my ... oh GOSH. Larry is my fiancé ... accent aigu and everything.

It's the most natural, wonderful, delcious and real moment. I can't imagine my life getting any better than this.

But hey God, go ahead and try.

So that's my version of the story. Here's Larry's Version of the Story