Wedding Rules According to Jean

A number of people have asked me when I was going to blog about the wedding rules. I have been reluctant because weddings are so personal and I am so opinionated. So I'm going to give this disclaimer: It is (was) your wedding. Regardless of what Emily Post or I think, you should do what makes you happy. I will not judge you. Okay, I might. But I'll keep it in prospective and respect that you are true to yourself. I even understand it. I drink white wine with red meat because I don't like red wine. I don't care what any snotty waiter thinks—though he is welcome to blog about correct wines.

First off, any couple willing to put themselves or their families in debt for a wedding hasn't got enough sense to get married, let along stay that way, so just forget the whole thing. Get married within your means. Be proud of what you do. Just don't try to pretend that piped in music is a string trio.

The invitation. It should be white or ivory engraved in black. The wording should be basic, starting off with something like "Mr. and Mrs. Bride's Nervous Parents request the Honor of Your Presence--or Pleasure of Your Company if the wedding is not being held at a house of worship. There must be no talk of celebrating love, pictures of the couple, or pop out bells and doves. Address them by hand with real black ink. These days, that doesn't have to be a fountain pen. Gel pens are real ink but get a nice one. Spell out Mister, Avenue, Doctor, etc. If you want to hire a calligrapher, that's fine but not necessary. If you want to print out mailing labels on your computer, that is not fine in any universe. No, not even in a cursive script.

Wedding Party Attire. Those who sell wedding dresses and rent formal attire will lie to you. I will not.

The Bride-- If you want to drag a twelve foot train down the aisle, that's great but don't do it at two o'clock in the afternoon. The most formal dress must be worn in the morning or at night—before noon or after six. No bare shoulders or low cut neckline in the house of the Lord.

Female Wedding Party members. No black, no white. No bare shoulders or low cut neckline in the house of the Lord.

The Groom. And really, all males in the wedding, apart from the ring bearer. (I'll get to him.) Morning formal weddings means morning suits—cutaways and striped pants. Afternoon means dark business suits. After six, means black or white tie, depending on the formality of the bride's dress. This means no tuxedos before 6 p.m. Now, about that ring bearer. Regardless of the time of day, preschool boys do not belong in morning suits, business suits, black tie, or white tie. They belong in Eton suits and knee socks. This brings me to the next subject.

Children in the Wedding. There are differing views on this. I didn't want any. They steal the show and I didn't want any competition. Truly, I'm not usually that full of myself but this was my day and I figured there might never be another when everything was all about me. And there hasn't been. Still, I have since come to regret this, mostly because Baby Girl simply will not let it go. She was five at the time and was not one bit happy about giving out rice bags. She felt she had been robbed of her rightful place at the altar with a basket of rose petals. She has reminded me of this at least twice a month for twenty-two years and four months. So if you're going to have a ring bearer and flower girl, bear in mind that they might refuse to do it at the last minute and if they don't, they are probably going to raise hell. Of course, as I can attest, the children in your life might grow up and raise hell because they didn't get to do it. So decide what you can live with and go with it.

Though I've not witnessed it myself, I hear that in the last few years there has been an unfortunate trend toward having something called a miniature bride and groom. Avoid this. There is supposed to one, and only one, person wearing white and that is not some eight-year-old intent on stealing your thunder.

Wedding Director. In the name of all that is Holy, hire yourself a wedding director. This is not to be confused with a wedding planner, who helps plan the whole thing and charges a lot of money. A wedding director meets with you a couple of times and is on hand for the rehearsal and the big day to, well, direct. She will make sure everyone has the right flowers and is wearing/carrying them correctly. She will get everyone lined up and down the aisle at the right time. She will boss the photographer around. In other words, she will save your fanny. If you think your aunt, ex stepmother, or 5^th BFF, who didn't make the bridesmaid cut, can do it, you are wrong. The wedding director is not emotionally involved and doesn't care if she sees you go down the aisle or say I do. Hence, she can be somewhere else—like making sure the cake has arrived and that your drunk ex boyfriend is escorted off the premises without much ado.

Photographs. Remember that the wedding is not for the benefit of producing pictures. The photographer is meant to record your day as it unfolds. Do not let him dictate to you. He will try. If you don't want the groom to see you before the ceremony, do not be bullied into having group shots done before. Please do not leave your guests to cool their heels for an hour between the ceremony and the reception. Go stand in the receiving line so that the people who cared enough about you to come to your wedding can offer their good wishes. Get the party started and then go back for those pictures. The photographer will not like this. He wants to go home. If need be, have the wedding director whip his butt. She can; she's seen worse.

The Guest List. Where do you draw the line? That's hard. I didn't draw a line; neither did I spend a lot of money. It was more important to me to celebrate with my friends and family than to have a sit down meal and an open bar, which we don't really do here in the south much anyway. There is no shame in a punch, cake, and finger food reception at the church. But if you draw a line—say family only—stay within that line. Or don't—if you don't care what it's going to cost you and I'm not talking about money.

Random Thoughts

• Don't sing to each other. Just don't. Please.
• No programs.
• No unity candle.
• If you want a power point presentation of your childhoods and courtship, do it at the rehearsal dinner. Also, don't include any naked pictures of yourselves.
• No silk flowers. If you can't afford a lot of flowers, don't have a lot of flowers. But what you have, needs to have , at some point, been alive.

I could go on but I've already gone on too long.

And this bears repeating: It is (was) your wedding. Regardless of what Emily Post or I think, you should do what makes you happy.

What's the worst thing you've ever seen at a wedding?

Doppelganger Ice Cream Cake--Recipe Friday

I looked up this past week and saw a man peeping at me out of a boy's eyes. Nope. I'm not trying to say Precious Angel is a man but he just returned from participating in back-to-back summer programs at West Point and the Air Force Academy After that, there's bound be some (a minuscule bit) man about the boy. He started drinking black coffee while he was gone. The coffee drinking isn't new. He drank coffee as a toddler when he could get someone to give it to him but he liked it loaded down with cream and sugar. If he could get chocolate syrup and whipped cream, even better. This habit lasted until two weeks ago. No more. Frankly, I'm relieved.

He loved it—not just the black coffee, but the whole experience. The only bad thing he had to say was that he couldn't get any decent sweet tea in New York or Colorado. Go figure. It's not going to be any better next week while he's at Annapolis.

We're glad he loved it. Truly. But his mother and I did not love his absence. Not one little bit. But we might as well get used to it. Anyway, there was much rejoicing and producing of his favorite foods upon his return.

She made grilled venison burgers. Oh, my word. What that woman can do to venison. I can't even tell you. Even if I could, you probably don't have any venison. I know I don't. Which is fine for me, since I have her and she's got a freezer full. Too bad for you.

Anyway. I was in charge of macaroni and cheese with bacon and ice cream cake. I wandered into the kitchen and found him looking at the last of the ice cream cake.

"I think I'm going finish it off," he said. (This was not his first piece. I don't even think it was his second.)

"You go right ahead, baby," I said. "Don't even get a bowl. Eat it right off of the serving dish. It's better that way,"

His head snapped up. "Whoa," he said, putting his hand out. "Get behind me, doppelganger! The real Jean would never say that. She would say, 'Get a bowl!'"

Yeah, well.

Doppelganger Ice Cream Cake

Ingredients

• 2 1/2 pints of vanilla ice cream
• 3/4 cup peanuts
• 1 cup plus 1/4 peanut butter chips
• 2 ounces of toffee chips
• 1 1/2 cups Oreo cookie crumbs
• Butterscotch sauce
• Chocolate sauce

Directions

Let the ice cream soften in the refrigerator for a while.

Line an 8-inch spring form pan with plastic wrap. It should hang over a little.

Empty the slightly softened ice cream into a bowl and mix in the peanuts, 1 cup of chips, toffee chips, and 1 cup of the cookie crumbs.

Scrape the ice cream mixture into the spring form tin flattening the top like a cake and cover the top with plastic wrap and place in the freezer to firm up. Overnight is best but four or five hours ought to do it.

Serve the cake straight from the freezer. Unmold from pan and put on a plate or cake stand.

Sprinkle the top of the cake with the remaining chips and crumbs.

Cut into slices and serve with the butterscotch and chocolate sauces.

It should go without saying, but you can mix this up any way you like, using different cookies, ice cream flavors, nuts, etc.

Do the Clothes Make the Woman?

I am in the middle of getting ready for the national conference of the Romance Writers of America (RWA) and I am thinking a lot about what type of clothes to wear to different activities and events.  Our local chapter of RWA is know as the "Shoe Chapter", so there is also some pressure in that department.  I have actually had people in the elevator see on my name tag that I am a member of the Heart of Dixie chapter and look down to see what shoes I am wearing.  Luckily for me, I love shoes so this isn't a problem but I digress.

As I was working on my packing list yesterday, I really gave some serious thought to what I need to wear.  Of course, business casual is what everyone always says but how much business and how much casual?.  This year I have more business than casual because I have some "official" stuff to do two days, and on another day Pantster and I will be pitching our book to editors.  I guess I still think that there is some sort of magical outfit and if I wear it, everyone will love me and I will sell a book.

Of course, we know there are no magic clothes but often the clothing we choose does inspire confidence, is almost magical.

Do you have a favorite outfit or article of clothing that makes you feel confident and special?

Happy Birthday Kathy!

What Draws You?

Life is full of amazing challenges. We see them come and go in small grievances and then compare them with the mowhills that often turn to mountains. When one hurdle is jumped, sometimes it feels like another one has been plunked in its place. It can be a vicious cycle.

My life has been challenging lately. So busy, in fact, that I've had little time to devote to my family. A wonderful way to chill with family is enjoying a good show on television or watching a great movie at the theatre or on DVD. So today, I'm lamenting the season finales of the shows I love, Supernatural, Vampire Diaries, Nikkita, American Idol and a few others. The challenge now is: what do I watch on television when the mood strikes? Is there anything that can keep my attention?

TV Land is trying to pump up my volume with new shoes like the addictive Teen Wolf on MTV, The Nine Lives of Chloe King, and The Secret Circle. Woot! Teen Wolf is all that and a bag of chips, if I do say so myself. Tyler Posey is fantastic as the teen bitten by a werewolf, soon facing 'the change' of his life. Oh! But he's just met the new girl in town and his desire to date her poses many more problems for his shifting form. If you haven't caught it, tune in on Monday nights. The Nine Lives of Chloe King came on Tuesday night for the first time and was, to quote Miley Cyrus, "pretty cool!" I'm still waiting on The Secret Circle. All the commercials point to the EXTREMELY GOOD button.

What I'm really missing is: The Gates! Where has it gone? Is it coming back? Be still my heart! A community filled with Vamps, Werewolves, Witches, Succubus' and more. Times like this make me wonder why the rum is always gone. Arrrrr!

On the movie front, I absolutely loved Pirates of the Caribbean, On Stranger Tides! (Of course! Was there any doubt?) Make sure you stay until the final credits roll.

The Latest X-Men installment is uber fantastic! Not only do they introduce characters we haven't seen much of yet, they stay true to the comic books and give us our very first cinematic look at Professor X and Magneto before they became frenemies.

But what I'm really waiting for is The Green Lantern! This movie boasting a buff Ryan Reynolds starts this coming weekend. Ooh-la-la! For someone who grew up reading comics and dreamed of becoming an illustrator like Stan Lee, 2011 is a comagsmic summer fest!

We're all busy today. What draws you to the television or the big screen? What is worth giving up your precious time for?

Oh and while you debate the best of the best, I'll be cringing in the shadows.

Letting Go

I have a new “boy” at the barn, a nice kid in college who was raised on a farm with COWS. He is eager to learn but he just doesn’t get that HORSES are not COWS. I have patiently explained to him that horses and a mule (Daisey) wait for you to make a mistake and then they exploit it. He left the gate open the other day, taking his lunch break, and never looked back. I spent two hours chasing horses around the house, yard and barns in ninety-five degree heat. Needless to say, by the time his “lunch hour” was over, I had a few things to say to him. Suitably chastened, he apologized, walking away muttering something about having never heard “those words” before. Dripping wet with sweat and a little dizzy, I walked away muttering something about “the younger generation…” (Lord how I have become my mother!)

I thought he had learned his lesson, especially about the part of leaving gates open. Okay, so maybe he had – about gates. Stall doors are another thing entirely. I feed in the morning because young men do not watch the sunrise. They prefer to sleep in, take long lunch hours and then do their work in the hottest part of the day. Fine, they don’t have to worry about heat stroke or heart attacks. Nor do they have an aversion to sweating (I hate sweating). Any way, I digress.

The other day, I made it to the walking horse barn about 5:30 a.m. to feed. Because these are show horses and cannot be out on the pasture, I make sure they are fed, watered and hayed (I think that is a verb – the act of throwing hay – anyway I use it) twice a day. I walked into the barn through the office, flipped on the lights and stumbled out into the main hall. My usual routine is to walk down the row of stalls, checking on the horses and talking to them as I make my way to the stack of hay at the front.





I had made it about fifty feet when I looked up. Sundancer was loose!

A flash of yellow and a welcoming whinny were the only warnings I had before fourteen hundred pounds of horse was running to MOMMA. (I raised this horse from the time he was three months old and he really thinks I am his mother or at the least the woman who carries apples in her pockets). I ran, what else could I do. I made it to the feed room, opened the door and slammed it shut behind me.





I heard a disappointed snort by the door and I knew Sun was standing there, waiting. Now, the doors have outside latches on them which snap shut and LOCK. An escape mechanism, running a string through a hole in the wall which attaches to the latch, is very necessary in case you close the door behind you. Weeellll… the boys had removed the string (for what reason God only knows). I was trapped! I could have stayed there until someone realized I was missing (three or hour hours later) but I remembered the office door was open to the outside world. It would only be a matter of time before Sun lost interest in me and wandered up there, seeing his chance to escape to the world of roads, cars and rednecks who don’t break for animals. FREEDOM!!!!

I had to get out before the mischievous palomino found his way out of the barn. The feed room has twelve-foot walls but no ceiling, open to the rafters of the barn which are at least sixteen feet above the floor.





My only alternative was to climb. I don’t like heights and my upper body strength is nearly non-existent but I had to do something.






I turned a feed barrel (garbage can) over and started up the side of the wall, gaining toeholds where I could. Success! I made it to the top of the wall and looked down. Sun looked up at me, grinning or at least to me it looked like he was grinning. My first thought was to drop down on his broad back and then to the ground but visions of a wild ride around the barn with no reins and no way to stop him squelched that nonsense. My only option was to lift myself over, hang seven feet and then hopefully drop to the ground without shattering both ankles. Then I had to survive Sun. As I was hanging there, skinned and bleeding, I thought that surely no jury would convict me for murder. After all, there are plenty of young boys and I can always replace them. I had to let go – I had no choice. Stretching as far as I could, I managed to drop and roll, avoiding the dancing feet of Sundancer. I jumped up and chased him back into his stall.





Then I proceeded with my morning feeding, a little weak from blood loss, but otherwise okay. The new boy, well, he got another lesson in verbage.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were left hanging, either literally or figuratively? It’s a hard choice to let go, knowing that what waits at the bottom could be shattered ankles or, in our case as writers, shattered dreams. But sometimes, you just have to let go and see where that fall takes you. Tell me about your experience at “letting go.”

What I've Learned about Marriage

I've been married to The Guy for twenty-two years. Happily. I'm not saying I haven't thrown some hissy fits for valid reasons. I can even remember how I felt and some of what we said to each other. Oddly enough, I don't much remember what brought on those fits so he must have reformed or it wasn't that bad to begin with.

I have to say that, as husband training goes, I've done well and he's been accepting—to a point. I have accepted what I cannot change.

This is what I've learned about my marriage:

• If I don't tell him what I want, someone is going to be disappointed (me) and someone is going to be mad (him). He is not a good guesser. In truth, do I want him to sit around and think, "Now what can I pull out of my oh, so very romantic soul to please the love of my life, Jean?" I do not, I tell you. I wouldn't have that kind of man. If you want that kind of man, train him up and enjoy it.
  
• If I want to see a Woody Allen movie, I'd best make other arrangements because he's not going. Ever.
  
• It takes less energy for me to remove the sticky notes that he puts on the floor lamp by his chair than it does to yell at him to stop it. Besides, he isn't going to stop it. Nor is he going to throw away the blister pack that held whatever treasure he has procured for himself. Furthermore, he doesn't care if there are blister packs and sticky notes all over the place. I do. So I remove them.
  
• He once had an altercation with J.C. Penny's and will not shop there. He would like for me to support him in this. I must do this since, to my knowledge, this is the only altercation he has ever had with the world at large. I'm glad it was J.C. Penny's and not somewhere I like to shop.
  
• He has his list of household chores. 1. Clean the liter box. 2. Take the garbage to the street. 3. Keep the refrigerator stocked with soft drinks (which he does not drink.) 4. Pay the bills and keep the household accounts. 5. Keep our vehicles clean and gassed. 6. Pay the yardman. He does these things like clockwork. He will do almost anything else except cook, but I have to ask. He will walk past a basket of folded clean laundry that is sitting by the stairs 43 times and never see it.
  
• " Do we have any butter?" means "Will you get me some butter?" It is not productive to say, "Of course, we don't have any butter! When have we ever had butter? And if we did have some, it would be upstairs in your sock drawer!"
  
• If I want to see Barry Manilow in concert (and I have), I'd best make other arrangements because he's not going. Ever.
  
• I do not pack for him. I have friends who pack for their husbands. Not me. I am not going to be held responsible when he hasn't got the exact pair of socks he wants. Luckily, he likes to be in control and has no wish for me to pack for him.
  
• When we go to the movies, we are going to leave long before we need to. I've accepted it.
  
• When we get in the car to go somewhere, he is going to have to go back in for something. Probably.
  
• If I want to eat at Cracker Barrel, I'd best make other arrangements because he's not going. Ever.
  
• No matter how long he's been waiting for me to get ready to go somewhere, I end up waiting on him because he's thought of one more thing he has to do.
  
• He is always, always, without fail, going to say to me. "Go to conference. Go to Moonlight and Magnolias. I don't care if you didn't cook dinner. You have a job too. What do I need to do to make this work for you?"
  

What have you learned about relationships?