The Reception in NJ
When we got back to NJ, we had a week to prepare for the reception. I was still riding on the high from the honeymoon, so I was totally laid back for our final meeting with the caterer. The NJ caterer was much more organized than the Hawaii caterer, I can tell you that!
(quick side note as an illustration: the NJ caterer sent a finalized contract, complete with bridal checklist and insurance liability waivers for our DJ and photographer a full month before the event; on the other hand, I had to hunt the Hawaii caterer down myself a few weeks before we left to get a final contract, and even then, I never gave her a signed version…it had changed by the time the contract got to me, and my dad is still disputing the bar, which is entirely another story. Suffice to say there was nothing unclear about the way things were run in NJ!)
We didn’t have a whole lot of people from the Hawaii wedding come to NJ (go figure). Just our roommates (of course), my brother, my cousin D. (who was taking pictures), and my MoH, who flew all the way from CA to be there.
On the morning of the reception, I almost had a hissy fit because I didn’t have a schedule written out, until I remembered (when MoH and Ray reminded me) that this was the no-pressure party, and all the hard work is already done. The only things I had to do before the party were: get my hair done and get my makeup done.
Strangely enough, this ended up being more complicated than I had originally planned. About a month beforehand, I had made an appointment at a nice salon to get my hair and makeup done. Unfortunately, while I was in Hawaii, I got a call from my hairdresser telling me that the salon had burned down!!!!!
Luckily, she was now doing business at a place down the street. But they didn’t do makeup, and nobody had any references for me. So MoH and I went to the mall to get our makeup done! And it was so fun!
But it only got complicated when we spent too long at the mall and got to the hair appointment about ten minutes late, and then the hairdresser took a REALLY long time on my hair. Granted, I have longer hair than MoH, but we ended up arriving at the reception venue about five minutes before the cocktail hour was about to start, which was nerve-wracking.
Once we arrived at the reception site, in my jeans and button-down shirt, full makeup and hair-do (including veil), there was no need to announce to the waitstaff who I was. They went into full serving mode, and they ushered me into the bridal suite. There was a HUGE bathroom as well as a couch and a vanity with a big mirror. MoH and I took turns admiring how big the bathroom was…we agreed you could fit a bed in there.
But I digress. I quickly got into my wedding dress, and one of the waitstaff announced that she was the head table waiter, so she was basically assigned to serving us specifically. She brought me drinks and hors d’Å“uvres (since the party had already started with a 1/2 hour of cocktails before dinner). And I was loving it, especially since everyone else around me was taking care of stuff for once!
(By the way, while all of this is going on, I’m getting last minute calls from guests telling me they can’t make it because they were sick. I swear, there must have been a flu epidemic while I was gone. Granted, I’m glad they didn’t come and spread their germs to my guests, but Jeez!)
By the time I was really ready to go, cocktail hour was over, and the guests were being ushered into the banquet area. Ray and I entered, announced for the first time in NJ as Mr. & Mrs.! How exciting! After we did our customary walk-around, we went into our first dance, which we had spent 5 weeks practicing (a totally basic slow rhumba, but still, it was amazing that Ray even agreed to take dancing lessons!).
The rest of the evening was a blur. All I remember is that I didn’t get a chance to say hi to everyone, even though I tried. There was some dancing, but not very much, mostly because nobody really got on the dance floor unless I was on the dance floor (I guess it’s rude to dance if the bride isn’t dancing?). Anyway, there were so many disparate friends there, and I wanted to spend time with everyone, but it just wasn’t meant to be.
I remember cutting the cake was also a lot different from Hawaii. For one thing, it was a better carrot cake (the Hawaii carrot cake was more like a spice cake with carrots in it…not so good).
Just like in Hawaii, people gathered around to take pictures, but the best picture we could have gotten was from our friend K. from Ren Faire, who got underneath the head table and took a picture from an angle no one would think of.
After the party was over, Ray and I went to our hotel room (we decided to stay at the nearby hotel so we could hang out with all the out-of-towners). Unfortunately, a lot of the folks we wanted to hang out with were at the other hotel down the road, and they didn’t want to come to our room. But we did hang out with MoH, my cousin D., two friends from Ren Faire, and two of my singer friends (who had a concert that night, so they ended up missing the party, but they showed up at the hotel for the after-party). We had a whole lot of excitement when the people across the hall (who were having their own after-party from a different wedding) kept accidentally coming into our room. Boy, we thought we were drunk; they were BOMBED! It was hilarious!
Filed under Blogging, Party, Wedding | Comment (0)Good party
I’m recovering today from a night of gluttony. Last night a good friend of mine got married, and I sang at her wedding. She and her fiance had a pretty long ceremony (she’s Episcopalian and he’s Catholic, so they got married in the Episcopalian church, but with a marriage ceremony complete with communion) and they really did it up with the reception.
Since we had an hour and a half between the wedding and the reception, Ray and I went to the local dive bar with a few friends to have what we thought would be cheap drinks. I actually just wanted to go because I hadn’t had lunch and was hoping to get some fries or something to tide me over until dinner. Turns out two pints of Guinness cost us $13! At a dive bar???? What a waste of money, considering we were going to a party with an open bar. Oh well.
When we did get to the reception, cocktail hour hadn’t officially started yet, so we were ushered into another cocktail room where they had drinks, an antipasto bar, a crepe station, and some sort of carving station. Couldn’t get much better than that, I thought, as I loaded my plate up with shrimp scampi crepes (yum!) and an assortment of olives and marinated eggplant. When the official cocktail room was opened, however, we were stunned to find a veritable cornucopia awaiting us.
To our left entering the room was a stir-fry station, where you could pick vegetables and sauces to be stir-fried together on a wok as you watch, Ã la Mongolian BBQ. To our right was a guy playing piano and electric piano, alternately, in a sort of lounge lizard style (I guess the electric piano had different instruments programmed in). Straight ahead was a huge circular antipasto display, the same as in the other room only more varied, including fruit and some incredibly tasty cheese and crackers. Along the left wall were all the cold things one could ask for: regular bar, martini bar, oyster bar. Along the right wall were all the hot things one could ask for: carving station, mussels in marinara, shrimp fra diavolo, and many more things I can’t possibly remember.
All around the stations were spectacularly carved melons, displaying a scene of a fisherman sitting under a tree, a swan, hearts, and many more. The wedding itself didn’t have a theme, per se, but it was just beautifully decorated.
I almost gorged myself during cocktail hour, especially since I heard someone say this was all we were going to get. But I stopped myself, and it’s a good thing, too, because once they let us all into dinner (announcing it by having one of the wait staff wander around banging on a mini xylophone, very clever), I realized that what we had eaten was just the appetizer.
We started off with a salad, very tasty blend of sour and sweet with some sort of lemony vinaigrette paired with sugared walnuts. Next came a peach sorbet (to cleanse the palate), and then they brought out the main course: Chateaubriand or shrimp (or both). Obviously I had no beef, but the shrimp was smothered in butter and garlic, just the way I like it. We were served coffee before the cake cutting, and then after the cake was cut, we were ushered back out into the cocktail room where they had set up stations for waffles, more crepes, wedding cake (of course), a chocolate fountain, fruit, cannoli, etc. There were more drinks, too: a sambuca station was set up as well as some sort of hot chocolate type drink, ostensibly with alcohol in it (I wasn’t drinking at that point in the evening, so I can only guess).
All during dinner we were entertained with a live band who were absolutely fantastic. Very energetic and very tight. They had their routine down, and it was excellent. I didn’t dance at this party, mostly because I was having issues with my dress and Ray kept reminding me that every time I dance at weddings I complain about my knee and my ankles afterwards. I had a blast watching the guys go crazy, pulling out The Lawn Mower, The Sprinkler and even The Shopping Cart all over the dance floor.
So now I am home, trying to keep it easy and finish digesting all I ate last night. I didn’t even drink that much, so I’m not too hung over, but it was a long night, and having to get up early for church didn’t help things.
Filed under Food, Party | Comment (0)One, TWO, Three, FOUR
Monday night Ray and I went to see Billy Joel in concert. I should have gotten him tickets as a Christmas present when they went on sale back around December, but I didn’t realize he wanted to go until all the cheap seats were sold out and the only ones left were $100 and up. And since the only time I’m going to spend $100/person on a concert is if a) it’s for a really good charity, or b) a friend has made the big time, I figured he could live with the disappointment.
But when one of my roommates got his hands on $65 tickets, I jumped at the opportunity (especially since Ray actually WAS pretty disappointed I didn’t get them for Christmas). So we went on Monday night and had a blast. Billy Joel did a lot of obscure stuff, which was nice to hear for a change. When he left the stage and the stadium went dark, everybody who had a phone pulled it out and turned the screen on so that there were tens of thousands of little white & blue dots all over the stadium, kind of like that cell phone commercial that’s been on TV recently. I’m not surprised, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen cell phones being used as the new lighters. Pretty cool.
Ray was having a great time. But as he was moving to the music, I realized that he is afflicted with a terrible disease called WMRD (white man’s rhythm deficiency). It is curable, but it takes years of intense physical and psychological therapy. Ray has never been treated, and although he hides it well, it’s clear that he’s in the late stages of the disease, which means that it will never truly go away, no matter how much therapy he undergoes.
The good news is that he is blissfully unaware of his problem. The bad news is that I, as a professional musician, was acutely aware. I’d be tapping my leg to the beat, and he would start tapping along with me, then get slightly off and slightly more off, and slightly more off until he was in a whole different tempo than Billy and me. Have you ever sat at a stop light with your turn signal on in front of someone else with their turn signal on, and noticed that the rate of your clicker was either very slightly slower or slightly faster than the guy in front of you? Every once in a while your beats will be in synch with each other for about three or four clicks, and then you get off again.
That’s the way it was with Ray. I’d grab his leg and start tapping the beat on it, but he would look at me, puzzled, and move his leg even more forcefully to his own beat. I tried to show him about clapping on beats two and four, not one and three, but he had no idea what I was talking about. I mean, it’s not like Billy Joel is funk; I mean, this is a white man singing white songs to other white folk. Most people with mild or moderate WMRD can grasp his rhythms. But not Ray. I fear there is no hope.
Filed under Dancing, Party | Comment (1)Frolicking At Funky Formal
When we got to the Funky Formal, the party was in full swing, with DJ Kiltboy at the helm, playing all the funky music he could get his hands on.
About a half an hour after we got to the party, Kiltboy picked up the microphone and said, “This has been a very romantic weekend. I understand two people got engaged.” Ray and I looked at each other, and several of our friends started whooping and pointing at us. I had told Kiltboy earlier that day, but didn’t expect him to announce it, and although I don’t mind public humiliation, Ray does tend to shy away from the spotlight. Then Kiltboy continued, “Angie and Darren, will you come on up here? This one’s for you.” Another couple came running up on stage and started slow dancing/making out. Ray and I looked at each other, both puzzled. Angie and Darren? Who the hell are Angie and Darren? Someone stole Ray’s idea of proposing on the last weekend?
Well, whatever. We figured maybe Kiltboy would let them have their time, and then announce our engagement next. And sure enough, after a few more songs, he picked up the microphone again and said, “Well, it seems romance is in the air. Can I have your attention please?” Then he handed the microphone to another guy who proceeded to propose to his girlfriend right then and there! “Jeez,” I said, “is there something in the water?”
We waited the rest of the night for DJ Kiltboy to announce our engagement. We figured he MUST have it on his agenda, right? No. As they were kicking us out, Ray approached Kiltboy, who smacked his forehead and said, “Dude, I’m so sorry. I was so drunk I totally forgot to announce your engagement.” Riiiiight. My theory? Kiltboy doesn’t remember my name. But I’m just keeping that one between you and me.
Filed under Party, Ren Faire, Wedding | Comments (2)The Quality of an Inn
On Sunday night, we went to the Funky Formal, an annual end-of-season event for the merchants and cast up at the PA Ren Faire. It was being held at a different hotel this time, due to a change in organizers. I don’t think anybody really cared where it was, as long as there was music and alcohol, but those of us who spent the night at the hotel cared a little.
The ironically named Quality Inn left much to be desired in the way of hospitality. Our room was difficult to find because the rooms were outside (”Nobody told me this was a motel,” complained Ray) and the light in front of our room was out. When we entered the room, we figured the entire breaker was gone because the light switch wasn’t working, and we had to stumble about in the dark for a lamp, any lamp, that would turn on.
When we finally had light in our room, I wasn’t horrified at our surroundings, but Ray was upset that we had no in-room fridge for his drinks. The shower had mold on the ceiling, and it looked like someone had recently absconded with the hook on the back of the door. When we were ready to go to bed, we heard the people next door having a huge fight, and the walls were so thin, I thought of mediating their discussion through the wall. All in all, we came to the conclusion that just because it’s called the Quality Inn doesn’t tell you what kind of quality inn.
The ballroom was quite nice, though; much better than the other place. It’s as if the owners spent all their money on the meeting rooms and didn’t have enough money for the actual bedrooms.
Stay tuned for adventures at the Funky Formal.
Filed under Party, Ren Faire, Travel | Comment (0)Hobnobbery
I’m pleased to report that your erstwhile heroine has spent in the last two evenings in the presence of the rich and appreciative. On Sunday, I sang at a fundraiser for the Philadelphia Singers, which, as I’m sure most of you know, cancelled half their season abruptly a month or so ago. One of the board members offered up her house (dare I say mansion?) for the event, and it was quite a swanky affair with some of the best food I have ever tasted in my life. I never thought I could have a mouthgasm from a grape stuffed with toasted coriander seeds. I’m going into fits of rapture just thinking about it.
Last night I sang at another fundraiser, this time for Music Theater Group, a wonderful little off-off-Broadway theater company in New York. I had performed in a workshop of a chamber opera called Arjuna’s Dilemma there several years ago, and have been involved in that show ever since; this summer, Doug Cuomo (the composer) asked me to sing in a recording of the piece, which was a huge honor, since I got to sing with two of the members of Anonymous 4. So when I got the last-minute call to sing a snippet of the piece at this fundraiser, I jumped at the chance. This fundraiser was in a penthouse in Manhattan with a gorgeous 360-degree view of the city by moonlight. The food was not quite as good as Chef Fritz’s creations, but I certainly wasn’t put off, by any means.
One thing that struck me about both events, though, was how incredibly appreciative all these people were of the arts. At the Philly Singers fundraiser, it was great to be able to see everyone’s faces during the performance and watch them get caught up in the music. And for the Music Theater Group fundraiser, although I couldn’t really see the audience because of all the lights, I was stopped after the performance by many people who exclaimed how haunting the music was, and how much they would love to hear more about the piece.
It just proves to me that there are still people in this world who love watching the kind of stuff I love to do. There are still those who understand how rich and meaningful music and theater can be to people’s lives, and who are willing to support it. Granted, that bunch of people may be dwindling these days, but there’s still hope. I still believe art has a place, a very important place, in society, and I am not the only one who thinks so.
I just hope more people with deep pocketbooks can continue to help us starving artists out so we can continue our craft.
Filed under Food, Party, Singing | Comment (0)Potluck
I got invited to a potluck dinner the other day. I’ve been recently wanting to find new friends, people my age who live close by, since all my friends are currently scattered across the globe. So when I received the invitation, I jumped at the chance to hang out with new people.
I made my famous lasagna (those of you who have eaten it know that’s a good choice to bring if you want to make friends), decided not to change from my work clothes into something more casual, and drove to the address I was given. When I got to the house, I saw that it was actually a condo in a fairly new development where everyone has their own numbered parking space and the visitors all have to park in a lot in the center of the development. Let me rephrase. All the houses looked exactly the same, and I started humming “Little boxes, little boxes,” the theme song to Weeds.
The condo was very nice, if a little small. Both the hosts were dressed very nicely, as were almost everyone else. I started thinking that maybe I should have dressed up from my business slacks and blouse. But one thing that hit me very strongly was that this was a group of WASPs. No doubt about it, you couldn’t get more WASPy than this group, save myself (marginally) and one guy who I think might be Puerto Rican.
Now, there’s nothing wrong with WASPs; quite the contrary, I really enjoyed myself at the party. I was just struck by the homogeneity of the group. This was a stereotypical gathering of privileged white people, complete with stereotypical food that people brought: a ham, potatoes, salad, cheesecake, etc. I think my lasagna was the most “ethnic” food that was there. Again, the food was good. The conversation was good. It was a great success, that party. And yet…I just wish there was a little more diversity in the group. Everyone was just too…NORMAL.
Filed under Food, Party | Comment (0)