a nearly grand anniversary.

One Year. 366 Days.

One year ago from Sunday, Evan and I set out on a great adventure—marriage. But we decided to make the actual day an adventure, as well, so we set out on bikes from Jackson, Wyoming to String Lake in Grand Teton National Park [28 miles], waited out the rain, vowed to love each other forever [do note: “every second of every day” is different than “forever”], and then danced into the night with so many loved ones at a ranch in Wilson.

It’s been a year. A big year. So we wanted to celebrate in a big way. With a big day. We decided we wanted to climb the Grand Teton on our one year anniversary—August 14th. I’ve never summited the Grand. Evan has many times. I was hungry for a summit and excited for a day in the mountains with my love.

The first night in Wyoming, we arrived later in the night to our camp spot. We drove the van around, listening to an anniversary mix I made for Ev and talked about our favorite moments of the last year. I couldn’t have been happier. I told Evan…

– I love this. I love you. I could drive around forever.

I’m glad we didn’t, because as soon as we stopped and got camp ready, Evan surprised me with the. best. anniversary present. A year ago, we had a “cheese cake” for our wedding.


Mary at the Jackson Whole Grocer helped us put together a dream of a wedding cake for me.

Evan contacted Mary again and had her make us a mini wedding cake! Just like you’re supposed to do for your first anniversary! I died. So exciting. The best. He even brought our cake topper, made by the ah-mazing Lindsey Yankey. It might be my favorite thing from wedding times… besides, you know… my trophy husband.


We drank wine and ate cheese and talked into the night. A perfect beginning of anniversary weekend.

Saturday, we couldn’t get a high-country permit for camping near the climb, so we spent the day getting ready, running around String Lake, swimming, cooking, and getting to bed very early, in preparation for our big day.


We woke up at midnight. After coffee and oatmeal and drawing a Tarot card each [he drew the King of Swords! I drew the Queen of Swords! a couple! on our anniversary!], we set off on the trail in the dark, alive with excitement and love. We had 7,000 feet of vertical gain in front of us and we were ready.

Just kidding.

Here’s a hot tip that you probably don’t need: Don’t try to climb a 13,700 foot mountain off the couch.

The first seven miles were great—for me. I was kicking ass and taking names, but Evan wasn’t feeling so hot. He started slowing down, because his stomach was hurting so bad. We got above the upper saddle [farther than I had ever gotten!] and Evan had to emergency veer off the trail to tend to his belly.

Even when he went off the trail and stayed there for a while, I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes for a bit. I wouldn’t admit to myself just how tired I was, just how un-ready my body was, because I wanted to summit so bad. I wanted us to be on top of the Grand together on our first wedding anniversary. I brought my wedding dress in my pack, to maybe even put it on on top of the Grand.

Evan came back from his trip off trail and told me he wasn’t feeling well. He then dry-heaved for a bit while I looked away and started to tear up. He said he didn’t think he could do it. I told him we could just go home and go back to Bozeman; I was so upset.

We should’ve turned around. But we didn’t. Evan gave me some indication that he might might be able to do it and I told him…

– Make a decision. You either need to buck up so we can do this or you can call it and we’ll bail.

I think I even said something like, “All this for nothing!” I was upset. I was tired. We had been hiking for almost seven hours and I thought that not summiting at that point would be the worst. I am not proud of this moment of our anniversary. I am not proud of this moment at all.

Evan entertained the thought of us getting to Wall Street—the first pitch of the technical climb—and seeing how he felt. I was so excited. We started that way, but were going at a snail’s pace at this point—stopping a lot.

We should’ve bailed. You know this. We knew this—deep, deep down. But we didn’t. Getting on rope in the Tetons with his favorite person made Evan whole again—for moments at a time. He was so happy. We started each pitch by saying…

– Happy Anniversary. I love you. You’re on belay.

– Happy Anniversary. I love you, too. Climbing.

– Climb on.

It was the best. Until it wasn’t. Until we started moving even slower. Until we had a route-finding problem a handful of times. Until after five pitches, I couldn’t imagine climbing again. Until the wind crushed my soul and then the sun burned my face. Until I started really bonking. Until we realized, “Okay, we’re really not going to make anniversary dinner reservations.” Until we realized, “Shit. We are not in a good place.” Until we saw the sun getting to a place it wasn’t supposed to.

We had two pitches left. We got to the top of the second to last, the sun was setting, we were hardly speaking to each other. I asked Evan, where do we go now?

– I went the wrong way up there. The way we were supposed to go for the summit. We’re going to bail. I’m so sorry.

I lost it. I started crying. All this for nothing! ALL THIS for NOTHING. I’m tearing up thinking of it now. Evan apologized over and over as I berated him for everything under the sun. [again, not proud.]

I just kept thinking, “What the hell does this mean about us as a couple?! How did we get here?? Is this day symbolic of our marriage? We’re fucked.”

[do note: there are no photos from our time actually in the mountains… for obvious reasons. I think our lack of selfies is very telling of the fact that we were miserable.]

We headed to the rappel and I could not stop crying. Just your casual silent sobbing. There was another climbing party on the rappel who we shared a rope with. I went first as Evan was still coming along. The woman who shared her rappel with us was there climbing with her brother. She was so friendly and struck up conversation with me, probably because she could tell I was upset.

– I wouldn’t be upset you didn’t summit. Look how beautiful it is!

– [through not-s0-sneaky tears] Yeah, but we just went the wrong way. And it’s been a long day.

Evan came down the rappel and the chatty, nice woman asked him his name.

– Evan.

– Evan, I’m Kim. Where you from?

– I’m from Jackson, but we live in Bozeman now.

Kim took off her sunglasses and lunged towards Evan…

– Hey! Evan! Oh my god!

Of course. Of course they went to college together. Of course they’re friends.

– What’s new?? You live in Bozeman now with your beautiful… girlfriend?

– Wife. Rachel’s my wife. And she’s pretty upset with me, because I’m a dumbass.

– Rachel! Don’t be upset at Evan! He’s the nicest guy in the world!

Here’s a hot tip everyone always forgets: When someone is in the throes of anger, telling them to not be upset is risking murder-suicide.

[Disclaimer: Kim is lovely and I am so psyched I met her, but she caught me at a rough time.]

– I know he’s the nicest guy. I do know that.

We continued the descent down back to the saddle while Evan caught up with his old friend and exchanged news about ever person who went to the University of Oregon from 2002 to 2008, while I trudged along in the back, wondering if you can die from the affects of suppressing anger weeping.

We parted ways with Kim and her brother and had a moment together. It was starting to get really dark. I told Evan…

– We didn’t summit and we don’t get to have fancy anniversary dinner and I’m just so tired and sad!

– I know. I know; I’m so sorry. And I even had a surprise for you—I got us a cabin at Colter Bay.

I collapsed in tears. Sat down, head in hands. I just openly bawled. I’m sure the whole valley heard me yell-crying…


I composed myself and we started down the trail, in the dark.

We had about seven miles to get out. In the dark. We were wordless for a while, before I stopped Evan to apologize. I apologized for being a loose cannon of emotion and way too blamely and for not listening to him when he was trying to tell me we should bail ten hours ago. I told him…

– I’m deciding to change my attitude right now. We’re in this together. I love you. I’m sorry. If we can laugh again at some point on our hike out of here, I’ll call this a win.

He looked at me with eyes that made it clear he was unsure if we’d ever be able to laugh or even smile, ever again. But we headed on.

We had to get to the van. We had to get through the dark and to the van.

So we banded together. We took turns losing it. Completely losing it. We lost ourselves in the boulder field. Then we found the trail again. Then we lost ourselves again, in the second boulder field. We lost ourselves for a while. We walked in circles. We lost it. We cried. One at a time. We took turns seeing things. We took turns freaking out. We took turns, breaking down, telling the other one, in a shaking voice…

– I’m losing it, babe.

Then one of us taking the other by the shoulders, comforting them, and saying…

– It’s okay. You can do this. We got this.

We realized we had been awake for 26 hours. We thought about calling Search and Rescue. We talked about how stupid we were. We talked about how dumb this was. We walked in circles around boulders. We tried new strategies. We finally saw headlamps of new adventurers, heading up the mountain, coming towards us on the trail. Saved! We walked towards them and found the trail again.

Only four more miles to go. Oh my god.

This was the hardest time. These last four miles. Our legs were aching. We were delirious. Evan was feeling so sick. Evan threw up. I thought my knees would be forever damaged. We had to take so many breaks. We thought we saw scary things in the woods. We fell asleep walking. We stumbled. We fell.

But we laughed. We laughed at ourselves. We laughed at memories. We laughed at our situation. We laughed at these parts of each other that we only get to see in the deepest of breakdowns.

How, when times get really tough, I get this weird camp counselor energy that makes me ask get-to-know-you questions to keep spirits up. What did you want to be when you were little? What’s your favorite thing to ski in Jackson? Did you ever think about not following me to Missoula? [okay that last one was a little deeper of a question, but made for great conversation! for a while! spoiler: he definitely did consider not moving to Missoula. dummy.]

How Evan will deliriously recite pop songs and when he gets tired enough, he’ll be quiet for a long time and then excitedly say…

– Wanna hear my new song?

– Of course.

– Ohhhh, child… Three more miles… Oh, hot damn… Gotta make it to the car.

It made as much rhythmic sense Sunday night as it does now… none at all. But we laughed. Hard.

Here’s a hot tip for music enthusiasts: Think hard before you put those ironic pop songs on mixes before big days in the mountains, because those the catchiest songs will be stuck in your head for HOURS.

That song put on there because we got doooooown to it on our wedding night:

rachdroppinit_2 copy

That one actually made for some amazing call-and-responses throughout the day…

– Baby, how you feelin’?

– Feelin’ good as hell!

Or more accurately…

– Baby, how you feelin’?

– Like I’m gonna die!

At one point, while walking, Evan said…

– Ray? You okay?

I literally opened my eyes, standing up still…

– Were we just having a conversation? Or was I dreaming we were.

– You were dreaming we were.

Shit. Wow. I was walking and sleeping. We laughed… in a sad way… but still… laughing.

We—finally—made it back to the van. At 5am. 27 hours car to car.

We did it! We comically high-fived. We kissed.

– Happy Anniversary. I love you.

– Happy Anniversary. I love you, too.

Evan passed out immediately, but I was determined to drive 20 miles down the road to our cabin. I drove in delirium. Don’t worry, I was safe. I was determined.

I saw the biggest elk I’ve ever seen, right by the road. [or at least I think I did… delirium.] He had a rack that reached well above the van.

– Oh my god!

I yelled, as Evan snoozed in the back.

I pulled up to the check-in and the man at the counter was semi-impressed with my literal sob story.

– So, you think you’ll make it another year?

– I mean, I’m gonna try. A very late check-out would help.

We got to the cabin. I woke Evan up and he was way too tired to function. I set his flip flops down on the ground in front of him and the van. He looked at them, looked at me—so confused, looked at them again—more confused. I bent down and turned them to face him and moved them closer. It was like he couldn’t figure out what these things were and what he was supposed to do with them. Laughter again.

We got to the bed. We slept for as long as they would let us. It was glorious. We took showers. We felt like brand-new people, who knew a lot more about ourselves and each other and could hardly walk down stairs.

We called Monday “Redemption Day.” I put on a white dress. We went to a fancy-ass lunch and had cocktails. We exchanged gifts. We took our leisurely time driving the van home, stopping at sites we wanted to see, picking up hitchhikers, listening to the anniversary mix over and over, making memories. We walked around Yellowstone and held hands.


We got ice cream cones. We came home and drank fancy bourbon that was gifted to us on our wedding day. We ordered Chinese food and listened to records. Redemption Day. Living up to its name. Its made-up name. A fresh adapter, that Redemption Day is.


This morning, the reality set in like a heavy haze. I drove to work and then the dentist and faced scary deadlines for each. I suddenly missed the mountains—delirium and all. As this rush of missing came over me, Evan texted…

“As ridiculous of an adventure that was… I enjoyed every minute of it because I was with you. I’m exhausted. I can’t believe you’re at work right now.”

I agree. It’s true. I enjoyed every minute. Because we were together.

This life is crazy and stressful and hard and beautiful and hilarious. And it’s all of those things, but brighter when I’m with Evan. It’s an adventure that I know will be hard and I know might not yield all the results I want, but that doesn’t matter as much as it matters that I’m with him through it all. It’s a crazy thing to realize—this power of this love. But I can’t stop smiling about this realization.

And for Year Two celebration, we’ll be ready [training, climbing, trail running, a push-up or two] for the Grand. And—just in case—we’ll have another kickass Redemption Day planned.



Alternative Title Considerations for this Post:

“Five Steps for Your Crying-est Anniversary Yet”

“Blame it on the Tetons… or Your Poor Husband”

“Youths Report: The Up-and-Coming Hip Part of the Grand is Right Below the Summit”

“How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Start Hallucinating”

“My Husband Made Eye-Contact with a Grown Man Whilst Having Explosive Diarrhea on our Anniversary”

“Symbolism – It’s Overrated!”

tunes to take down a village.

This past weekend the ladies [allison and julia] came for a visit.

It was ah-mazing.  [do i say that too much?  whatevs.  it WAS.]

And, of course, Saturday night we ended up in everything from my costume box and had a late-night dance party.  O-M-G.  So much fun.


It was around 4am… yep… 4am.   And we were dancing to something along the lines of…

And [somehow] I was walking past my front door and I heard a knock.  [uh. oh.]

So, I answer the door in a blond wig, Kanye West glasses, an 80s-tacular silver jacket and a skirt that there are no words for.

It was my downstairs neighbor.  My sweetest-man-in-the-world-almost-70 downstairs neighbor.

– Hiiii… Could you…

– Oh my god, I am so sorry!

– Hey, you’re cute!

[oh, yeah, we hadn’t properly met yet.]

– Oh my god, NO.  I look like Pretty Woman on an off day.  I am SO sorry.  We’re going to bed right now.

– Okay, thank you.

– It’s just my friends from outta town… they’re WILD.

– Well I hope you had fun!


We immediately shut. it. down.

And went to bed.

I woke up the next morning feeling how my bedroom looked…

that's the exploded costume box at the foot of the bed. marshall bear was pretty distrot about the whole ordeal.


So the girls got their stuff together, cleaned up my apt [god, i love those girls] and had to head back to Jacksontown.  We said our sad goodbyes and my chest still hurts because I miss them so.

But I also had this horrible feeling in my chest because of what I had done to my sweet neighbors… woken them up… at 4am.

So, I bought some chocolates and wrote a card and tried to leave it on their doorstep… but they caught me.

– Come in here!

– I am just so embarrassed… SO sorry.

We ended up talking forever.  We talked and talked.  They told me about how they fell in love… love at first site… only three years ago.  We talked about everything!

They are the sweetest couple.  Pom: A almost-70 black man, who stands at 5′ nothing and glows with life.  Alice: His beautiful counterpart, who is one of the happiest people I’ve ever met and stands at 4’7″.

So there I am: The asshole giant who almost took down their adorable village by aggressive dancing.

And they were so full of grace with me.  Gosh, I could not have felt worse and here they were wanting to give me hugs to make me feel better.

– I just can’t believe we were that loud.  I turned on my radio this morning and was taken back by how loud the music was!

– It wasn’t the music that woke me up… It was the stomping.  I just heard this, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP and I was like, “What the HELL is that?”

– That was a LOT of bad dancing… that’s what that was.

They both laughed really hard and then said…

– You should’ve woken us up before the dance party to join!

I loved that.  I loved that we were sitting there talking, smiling, laughing… dancing in our own way.  Dancing with the closeness and love that I had the night before with Julia and Allison… but in a different way.  But the common denominator was love and laughs and smiles.

What it’s all about.

So, with that amazingly long introduction, I present to you a mix to make you smile and laugh and love and [hopefully] dance.

yep... THAT'S what we were wearing.


Click on this: WAKE THEM UP AND DANCE.

It’ll take you to a link with a big, green box that says “Download.”  Do that.  Click that.

Listen and let me know what you think!

I like to think that this mix is like November itself… Starts off slow, cold, picks up a bit, and then gets a tiny ridiculous.

My dream is that you’ll love the tunes, we’ll connect, and something inside of us will wake up and dance.

[i refuse to hide in a page of the story.]

it’s common courtesy.

Some Friday hilarity to start your weekend off right…

Back Story:  My friend, Anna Davis, is a CPA.  Truth: https://rachellaurenmarie.wordpress.com/2010/06/24/2049/  She is way talented.  Her sister, Gretchen Davis, is effing hilarious.

Come to find, Anna got herself an INTERN.  And this is comical because Anna works from home.  I informed Gretchen of the new intern and she quickly sent out this email:


I just heard through the grape vine that you have an intern…AN INTERN (high schooler to be more specific)!  I for 1. did not know you were taking applications!  And 2. am seriously offended that you would not consider Rachel or myself for this position.  Since there are no cons to either of us working for you, I’m going to list all the pros.


Gretchious and No Pants Pros:


1.  I would remind you to take breaks from work throughout the day.  This includes not waking up too early and a daily afternoon nap.  These usually last about 3 hours


2.  You would have the opportunity to not wear pants at work with Rachel…she wouldn’t turn you in for sexual harrassment because it would be her idea to go pantless.


3.  I would live on site; meaning either in your VW van or in your loft (this of course would be a favor to you)


4.  Rachel would wipe the sweat off your forehead, feed you shot blocks, and squirt water in your mouth when you are doing work on your stationary bike.


5.  Mid-afternoon, Rae would get you moving and wake you up with a dance party.  She might even incorporate towels…nasty!


6.  I could provide on site mental health services to you…for a small fee I would also see Cosi (we know she struggles with anxiety) and your chickens (to help prepare them for their murders for when you get sick of them).


7.  Work always ends at 4:30pm and Cocktail hour always starts at 4:35pm (this gives you enough time to go the bathroom)…we will only be drinking Pink Panty Pull Downs or Crystal Light and Vodka.  Do you think high school intern could handle this?  NO WAY!  She would be a big baby waaa waaa and probably tell on us!  Or she would pull a Dan Long and pass out way too early and eat all my goldfish crackers…Bitch.

8.  Rae could design us Accounting T-shirts and we could wear them ever day while we are “pooh bearing” around the office.

9.  While you are working in the loft, Rae and I will be downstairs (out of the way) lounging on the couch probably sleeping, rereading Harry Potter, or watching the best sex scenes from all our favorite movies .  If for some reason you might need us for something, then you can call us on the soup can and string telephone that we made.  Please remember that we will only answer if you are making ringing noises.  Don’t be surprised if we ask who is calling…its common courtesy.


10.  We would be WAY more fun than the skinny little brat of a high schooler you hired over us!  Why you ask…because I know a lot more dirty words and jokes, that’s why!


So, I’m thinking that you are having some regrets about how quickly you decided on an intern…next time you’ll know better!


Kiss kiss,

[yes, some of that is incriminating inside jokes… but i think it’s funny enough to disregard that.]

I cannot stop reading the email.  I laugh SO hard every. single. time.

Well, I wanted to contribute my skills to the hilarity, so I whipped something up and sent back the following email with the picture attached:

“I second every single one of Gretchious’s points!

And don’t worry, I’ll make you a tall-T, to cover all the good china when you’re pooh-bearin’.  [see attached.]



Have a wonderful weekend!

[note: this was all done in fun… we’re sure this high schooler is just precious and doing a wonderful job.]

i will find joy.

I take a lot of pictures of myself.  This is no surprise to anyone who has been to this here blahg before.  I’ve considered changing this sites url to http://www.picturesitakeofmyself.com… yeah, yeah, yeah.

And I get made fun of by my friends tons and even find myself feeling so, so silly pushing the button to begin the countown on my Photo Booth.

But, I am sure that in five, ten years… whether I’m doing something reigning in much fame and moola… or eating macaroni and cheese out of the pan I made it in [still]… I will find joy looking back at these ridiculous photos from volunteering to play music in a basement while the sun shines all over the mountains around me…

Oh, goodness.

And that’s where the magic happens:

we do, too.

Easter was a success.

Especially because I received this card in the mail…

I love my family.

And, yesterday, I got to wear my yellow Easter dress…

Oh, taking pictures of myself… by myself.  And the ridiculousness.   I giggle at this picture because:

• Am I surprising someone?

• Am I getting surprised by someone?

• Am I surprising someone with a jazz-hands dance number?

• Am I pregnant?  [i’m not.]

• The ridiculous things in the background: ski boots that should be put away, a guitar that NEVER gets played, a bottle of wine on the typewriter table and a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling juice in the wine rack…

Welp, jut another day on “wull hay”… or “that blahg where that tall chick takes pictures of herself.”

Oh, and listen to this…

[when love is love, don’t let it go away.]


When I lived in Yosemite [the 2008 time], we instated the “One Song Dance Party”.  It was only one song, and it had to happen every night.  It was glorious.

Some people would just be sitting at the kitchen table, watching… laughing… And then there we’d be… dancing, smiling, laughing… sweating…

It looked something like this…

one song dance party at the "B" party.

…That was taken at our “B” party.  Please note “Boy Blue, Little” and “Backpack”.

And almost always, this dance party revolved around this one song…

Oh, the MGMT times… everyone was doing it.

And then I went on to have “One Song Dance Parties” by myself in kitchens: https://rachellaurenmarie.wordpress.com/2009/02/27/dancin-with-myself/

Well, tonight, after driving home and listening to bad pop music, I decided it’s time to reinstate the “One Song Dance Party”.  Each night it will be to a different horridly amazing pop song.  And it will dance all the bad of the day out, as well as celebrate the day full of… well, whatever there is to celebrate…

Tonight’s song was this… [remember, i’m aware that it’s horrid/awesome]…

And now I have a partner in crime… dance crime…

the move no one can resist.


elbows and duck lips.


fist pumpin'.

gettin' doooowwwnnnn.

we want YOU... to dance with us.

think a dance-off challenge was happening here.

you be the judge.

that is a lot of arm.


annnnnd...... we out.

something horrible happened in the bathroom…

I feel like I could write a novel about my trip to Las Vegas this past weekend.

My friends Emma and Trask got married.  WHOA.

They decided about a week before Saturday that they wanted to get married and do it in Vegas.  Originally, they wanted to get married in Vegas because there would be a crew of us down at Red Rocks to do some climbing over Thanksgiving… then we’d all rally over to Bright Light City and celebrate the love of Emma, Trask, and Balou [their baby girl] and then dance off into the night…

Wyoming’s weather had different plans.  It snowed like it was mad and every road out of Teton Valley closed… for three days.  There was no way we were getting out.  But we had to get to the wedding…

So, we decided Thanksgiving in Red Rocks was out of the question… but flying to Vegas for the weekend was not.  Our group became significantly smaller because of people who had to work and small budgets, but I was lucky enough to pair up with my amazing friend, Anna, to serve as bridesmaids/wedding planners/dancers for the wedding and just a general celebration of Trask and Emma.

Emma, Trask, Balou, Anna and myself.  Driving to Idaho Falls to catch a plane and make it happen… the Vegas wedding.

At the airport, Thanksgiving 2010 tried to foil us over and over.  But despite a lost wallet [not me], lost phone [not me], thrown away boarding pass and then digging in the trash [okay, that might’ve been me], we got on the plane and got there!

Saturday [the day of the wedding] was a whirlwind.

Anna and I ran around Vegas like chicken bridesmaids with our heads cut off.  We had a checklist of things we wanted to get Emma for the big day that weren’t the easiest things to find…

Like a dairy-free chocolate wedding cake for a climbing bum’s budget.  But with our craftiness and the help of the baker lady at Whole Food’s, we were able to concoct a vegan chocolate layer cake out of a small sheet cake and a glorified cupcake.

Now, a cake topper… we need a bride and groom to go on the top.

Well, see, this is way harder to find than you would imagine in Vegas.  After searching about four stores, we almost just bought some ninja figurines to put on top of that cake.  As much as we know Emma and Trask would’ve appreciated ninjas, we tried one more store… called “99¢ Only”.  They had [for only 99¢!] the creepiest wedding topper ever.  A some-kind-of-ceramic, ginger bride and  groom with almost Tim Burtonesque faces standing under the trellis of flowers was now the huge wedding topper we would put on the tiny cake.  Awesome.

With all that done, we thought getting in a few pitches of climbing was totally understandable.  So, Anna and I drove up to Red Rocks and got our crag on.

With wedding on the brain, we talked about it with almost no pause.  Apparently we talked about it enough to convince the climbers around us that WE were getting married… Anna and me… TO EACH OTHER.

– No, no, no, no… We’re IN a wedding… Our friend’s wedding… yeah… no… we’re not a couple…

– Ohhhh… I’m so sorry.  I just assumed… sorry.  You girls would make a good couple, though.

– Thank you?

And then Anna and I spent a good half hour trying to figure out who would be the masuline and feminine in our lesbian relationship.

Done climbing!  We have to find something old, new and borrowed for Emma!  [we didn’t have to find her something blue because she has Balou… close enough.]

We went to Buffalo Exchange and found her the most amazing “get-away” dress for her “something old”.  It was a short, cute, white little number… strapless with the most amazing cut… like a cup-cake party dress… does that make sense?  It does in my head.

Anywho, then it was back to the hotel and craziness ensues.

Everybody’s running around like mad, trying to get ready.  Emma’s parents are there, we haven’t even said hi to each other yet!  Showers are being had, make-up, dress trying on, etc. etc.

Emma tried on her dress that she bought at Target for her wedding, but after seeing her “something old” and trying it on, the consensus was that she looked AH-MAZING and wore the Buffalo Exchange $14 dress bought for her just an hour ago.  It was a Vegas Wedding Miracle.

We had to grab the cake, catch the limo, get to the chapel, get all situated, do this thing.  We were running late… but not as late as the limo.

After standing in front of the hotel, waiting for a good five minutes, Emma calls the limo driver and he tells us he’s running another 15 minutes late.  Emma, being the most amazing/calm/hilarious bride, says…

– Well, let’s go inside and I’ll do my hair in the casino bathroom.

While doing her hair, Emma was bombarded by the most excited drunk women from New Jersey.  After a good ten minutes of thanking them for their enthusiasm but telling them they still weren’t invited to the wedding, Emma got a call from the limo driver and soon enough we were on our way!

Pulling up, I noticed a character if I’ve ever seen one…

– Is that lady wearing huge sunglasses at night?

Yep.  And inside.  This was Pat… the Chapel Director… or something… she was in charge.

Pat was incredible.  She was the epitome of old, sassy, crazy lady.  She was obsessed with Balou, wanted to hold her constantly.  She’d walk around the chapel with her old lady limp and yell…

– Anyone else around here work here?!

She saw the cake we brought in and then lectured us that cake is not allowed… that would be a part of the “reception” package and we haven’t paid for that.

– Oh, okay… We’re so sorry.

– Well, ya know… If you give someone a piece of it later, I’m sure they could let you put in in the chapel.

Ha.  We think she was bipolar.

So, there we were, in the Bride’s Room… getting the rest of the bit ready.  Emma runs to the bathroom and comes back and says…

– Something horrible happened in the bathroom.

[everyone truly worried] – Are you okay?  – What happened?  – Was there someone else in there?

– Someone dropped the toilet paper basket, so now the toilet is filled with toilet paper rolls and a basket.

All of us pause and then Anna says…

– Was that someone you?

– Yes.

Ha.  It doesn’t matter.  Emma doesn’t have time for that, it’s time to get moving towards the ceremony.  I go into the bathroom to take care of the debacle.

I’ve got the paper towels that I’m using as gloves to pull out the massive amount of toilet paper out of the toilet, laughing at myself already when I hear Pat’s crotchety old voice yell…


I start laughing SO hard because I just know that she was trying to carry the cake and the top fell off.

I run to the chapel and sure enough, there’s the wedding topper… in pieces… but not too many.  All we lost was the trellis and the bride’s head.  No big deal, right?

Pat is livid that we didn’t tell her that “the top wasn’t attached”, but Anna and I are too busy trying to use frosting to glue the bride’s head back on.  After calming ourselves down from laughing tears, we were able to put the head back on.  Success!

The ceremony was perfect/gorgeous/hilarious/lovely.

Balou was so excited and baby talked so loud through the first part, making everyone laugh.

Emma forgot her line because, “Sorry.  I was lost in his eyes.”  [amazing.]

Trask looked like he was the happiest man in the whole world.

Their kiss was the sweetest.

We all cried.  Everyone except Balou.  It was perfect.

They cut the cake… Emma served hers to Trask on the knife.  Badass.  Awesome.

It was so simple, it was hilarious, it was fun, it was beautiful, it was LOVE.

It was a gorgeous thing.

It was perfect.

congrats, emma and trask! i love you guys!