Friday (the 13th), I'm in love

I'm kind of obsessing over this whole Judgment Day thing - picking it apart from every angle and examining every facet to the "story."  This may be a relatively unpopular sentiment, but at the moment, I feel simple sadness for these people.  They truly believe the events their prophet has foretold will come to pass.  A slightly cynical side of me wants to be standing there with them, holding vigil from 6pm (when the great earthquake hits that signifies that God is closing the door to heaven) through to the next day when everyone is still here and safe.  It's supposed to be gorgeous this weekend.  Bright, sunny, happy weather.  Not exactly Endtimes weather.  A more compassionate side of me is genuinely sad for the heartbreak and feelings of loss these people have been set up for (or, have set themselves up for, to be fair).  Can you imagine feeling so certain of something that you base your entire existence around it for not just the few days that it has captured the attention of the general public but for years leading up to now?  Can you imagine being so sure of the future that you would rid yourself of all earthly belongings and separate yourself from your job?  Can you even fathom what would happen, how you would feel, the day after all these things were supposed to happen, when you're sitting in sunshine in an undestroyed field somewhere, not glorified?

It's devastating, really.

For our part, Mister and I started the countdown with Pasta e Fagioli from Veganomicon, although I forgot the roasted asparagus.  Pity - I guess we'll have to eat that up before 6pm Saturday...just in case we're wrong.

I actually found and purchased pennette this time around, but honestly, in these pictures, it doesn't look that different from the version I made with grown-up penne.  Regardless, it's one tasty beans-n-pasta dish and my Apothic Red (which I may rename Apocalypse Red) completed the meal perfectly.

I've rambled enough about this Pasta e Fagioli in previous posts.  Additionally, you may be wondering just what the heck Friday the 13th and Love have to do with anything I've said so far.

Nothing, actually.  But I didn't want to spend my whole post exploring my myriad conflicting feelings about Saturday, so I decided tonight was as good a time as any to fill you in on what Mister and I did on Friday the 13th.

My husband's family is a little strange sometimes.  I love them for it.  So, when my brother-in-law and his fiancee selected May 13th as their wedding date, explaining that it was the only Friday the 13th in 2011, not too many people were surprised.  What was surprising was that he managed to get my husband to wear a shiny lavender vest and tie.  Greeks should not wear lavender - it is NEVER their color.

Lavender accessories aside, my Mister, the Best Man, was very handsome all dressed up in grown-up clothes.

Apparently, varying shades of purple made up the wedding theme, as my mother-in-law and I laughed about the two lavender-clad Greek men matching very masculine things like....

The cake.  It's fun, isn't it?  White with purple flowers "blooming" off of toffee branches?  As you can see, the stuffiness of the reception hall prior to proper adjustment of the climate control made some of the blossoms jump ship, but the cake was returned to an appropriate temperature and fixed up before the reception started.  I feel kind of bad, now, about photographing it before the ceremony...

However, Mister and I were running out of ways to entertain ourselves, since we arrived 30 minutes before his parents and grandmother and 45 minutes before the bride and groom and wedding party.  No, we were not very early.  They were all very late.  Still, I got the chance to photograph one of the tables once it was set up...all in purple and lavender to match the wedding party.

Due to unforeseen occurrences (a superstitious person might even say "bad luck"), the ceremony actually ended up starting about the time it would have been finished.  Nevertheless, it was a lovely outdoor ceremony, which concluded just as twilight was setting in.

My little angelbaby (AKA, the bride and groom's daughter) was an adorable flower girl, wearing a poofy purple dress that might have been a size too big for her and definitely a lot of dress for a little girl.  In the picture above, you can see her 14-year-old sister, also in lavender to match the men, holding up the back of angelbaby's dress so she doesn't step on it.

This is the only picture in existence (as far as I know) of my husband holding hands with a child.  It was actually quite adorable.  The ringbearer (AKA, the bride's son) has a great amount of love and admiration for Mister, who once fixed a toy for him.  His whole face lit up when he arrived and saw Mister, so when he made his way down the aisle with his little sister, as soon as he was safely beside Mister he just slipped his tiny hand inside Mister's.

Believe me, I was not going to miss that photo op.  Speaking of which, I told Mister I was going to take a ton of pictures of him because "I don't ever want to see you in that color again but I don't ever want to forget this day, either."  I'm such a little devil sometimes. 

It was wonderful to see BIL so happy.  The reception was very nice.  My MIL and I opened the bar (we figured we'd been waiting the longest, so it was fair), and there were a ton of appetizers I could (and did) eat.  I love butlered hors d'oeuvres and regret that we did not get to partake of any at our own wedding.  We had hors d'oeuvres, the same ones as our guests, but ours were set out on trays in the "special room" we all hid in during cocktail hour so we could make our grand entrances to "Get This Party Started" (by P!nk) and the Imperial Death March (from Star Wars).  'Cause that's how me and Mister roll.

I'd never heard the song the bride and groom danced their first dance to, but it was pretty and clearly had meaning to them as they were singing it to one another while they danced.  The groom also danced with his mother to Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up," while I successfully prevented Mister from ruining it for me by complaining about how much he hates Josh Groban's voice.  Mister gave a very nice and slightly impish toast, followed by the Maid of Honor, the bride's daughter, who burst into tears about one sentence in.  Happy tears, don't worry.  Another fun, touching, and somewhat unconventional part of the evening was when, in lieu of the bride-father dance, the bride's 18-year-old son asked her to dance with him to Boyz II Men's "Mama."  I have to admit, I've never seen that before.

I had a ball, dancing the night away with my sisters-in-law and cousins, even a couple of aunts and of course, plenty of nieces.  One niece and one nephew in particular were very excited to see Aunt Natalie, which always makes ya feel good.  The food was very nice and the open bar was certainly welcome - the champagne was surprisingly tasty and MIL and I took care of the "leftover" glasses at our table.

Best of all, we get to do this all over again (as long as no one gets swept up to heaven on Saturday and the venue doesn't get eaten by a big earthquake) in a few weeks for a cousin's wedding!  Fortunately for Mister, he's not in the wedding this time, so he can wear black, not pastels.

That was truly amazing.