Tuesday, August 24, 2010

part two: red shoes and a bursting heart

We worked really hard to make our wedding a Shea and Sarah one.We used a polka dot theme for our save the date and invitations. We designed and wrote our own program - newspaper style.

My most favorite decor touch though was red shoes. First, I decided I wanted to wear red shoes because we were using red accents with our black and white theme. Then I asked the bridesmaids to buy red shoes. Then my mom wanted to wear red shoes. Eventually we included a card with the invitation inviting our guests to wear their "ruby slippers" to our Kansas wedding.

Our amazing decorator incorporated this into our cake display. (See the shoes?!)

After a day of golfing for Shea and nails for me, I met Shea back at the reception site to construct our candy buffet. I had my first freak out after realizing no one had made my ribbon bouquet for the rehearsal in one hour. I know, super important. My mom was too busy and stressed to do it and deal with my frantic and totally misplaced tears. But magically (magically she got a call from my mom) Ashley, my personal attendant, came to the rescue.

The rehearsal was the first time I saw everyone that had arrived. Everything did not go perfectly. People were late. People were huge jerks self-centered. People talked during the instructions despite my best only-child glare. The musicians couldn't all be there. We forgot the flower girl basket. On the upside, I loved my Anthropologie dress.

As we drove away, I was ready to fight frustrated but was quickly redeemed. I have never felt so loved as I did at the rehearsal dinner. It was the unexpected, completely amazing chapter of the wedding week. We had a Kansas themed barbecue and sunflower dinner. My favorite.

My dad gave a speech followed with my mom. They told the stories of me trying to convince the school board that I should not have to drop orchestra, Spanish or journalism because they required me to take gym especially something called "Net Sports." They talked about when I returned a few years later to convince the same school board that the high school's Indian mascot was racist. Or five years later when I sued my university in federal court for First Amendment violations.

Then Randy, close enough to be a father, talked about how I don't just participate, I lead. He had examples I had even forgotten. He talked about my influence in his kids' lives. How everything Layne did was because I had done it. Next to me was Layne, who gripped my hand as the tears poured down my face.

There were friends who remembered coffee shop dates chatting about boys. Shea's friends who talked about his habit of labeling kitchen cabinets or his antics at work. Layne and Chris who remembered our countless mac and cheese lunches. The speeches went on for hours, and I thought my heart would burst from my chest.

All good things come to an end, at least for the night. We drove back to my parent's house to pack our wedding night bag and then get Shea to the hotel. I commented as we drove home that my car just felt funny. We went inside to organize and came back at midnight so I could sleepily drive Shea to the hotel.

And my car would not start. Not even a sputter. My dad averted disaster and drove Shea to the hotel, as I resumed panicking and chowed down a melatonin pill.

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