Don’t Mind If I Do.

(See what I did there? I do? Get it- weddings? Ah HAH. Marriage humor.)

So Peej and I have just returned from Napa and the glorious wedding of our two pals, Annie and Jared. Here are some summed-up highlights (for to give each terrific day the review it truly deserves would cause Blogger to wonder if they should charge me more):

Our bed and breakfast, the Wine Way Inn, was RAD. We stayed in the Oakville room, there was always a bottle of wine decanted in the sitting area, the breakfast was gourmet and at least eleven courses, we had a private terrace that expanded onto a public terrace that worked its way up to a treehouse, and I got to sleep in as late as I wanted. (Sure, I had bridesmaid-y duties and my internal clock/Mom alarm didn’t really allow much more than 8am- but dude! I got to sleep until 8am!!)

The rehearsal and reception took place at Hans Fahden Vineyard. Which is a kinda nice mix of Narnia, Terabithia and a postcard of a vineyard- you know, the type of place you see in an ad that makes you scoff, wondering how daft they think we are that we believe those places exist? (Those places exist!) We rehearsed for the ceremony at a little bend in a rock wall that overlooked a fish pond, vineyards and hills. The gals entered from a covered bridge that was surrounded by some very Alice In Wonderland-y pockets of nature. (The coordinator warned us not to go off of the path, however, since there were some recent rattlesnake sightings. I’m not sure if this was to keep the children in check- or to get me to stop wandering off and babbling about like a loon about the charm. Either way- path= 1, off the path= 0.)

The rehearsal din was at a “beer garden.” Except, replace “beer garden” with “magical fairy light secret garden with marscapone thingies on trays!” And guess whose husband decided to try out the ridiculously tall mojito at the bar? That’s right, folks. Mine. That started an unfortunate trend of other people trying out the mojito at the bar…and then we had the kind of scene that can only occur when people are drinking really tall mojitos. I’ve already said too much. But, Point One- the bartender was a member of The Guild. We had no idea what that meant, but it sounded important and we trusted his judgement. And Point Two- there may have been some dancing in the attached bar for Reggae Night, and there may have been a time when I cornered the DJ and informed him that not only did I NOT like reggae (at all) but that I really did kinda want to hear some hair metal and classic rock. Now. I think we all know who won that round.

The AC/DC air guitar champ, that’s who.

And now, a side note about Max. He’s Annie’s three year old nephew (I’m pretty sure he’s three.) He’s a ball of awesome loaded with sugar and coated with grass stains. Peej and I really dug Max. Here are some of his gems:

-“Is she a boy?” [in reference to a vineyard pup]

-“She smells like FUR!” [happily, in regards to same pup]

-“My BOOBIES are falling!” [racing around the bride’s room, in a poor attempt to attach the bride’s strapless bra to himself]

-“Not off the path, there are rattlesnakes!” [announced mere seconds before he was to walk down the aisle as a ringbearer, and moments after he announced that he had to pee- badly- and couldn’t hold it. They ceremony waited.]

Also worth a side note: Our darling little Aveo. Rental car companies love to give us Aveos. (There are actually only fifteen in the world. We’ve driven them all.) P.J. made an aside that he loves economy cars- not because they’re affordable- but because they’re Good For The Environment. Like he’s putting the ‘eco’ in economy. He still hasn’t cracked a smile on that one, so I’m only half sure he’s kidding. Another clue he may not be into saving the world? As we were leaving San Fran, a guy with a long white beard decided to make his own crosswalk- and Peej muttered that Santa was about get to run over by an Aveo. Oh, we laughed and laughed. (I swear to God he’s a good person.)

Back to the romance.

The wedding day was perfection; sunny but not crazy warm, people mostly being where they ought, and a cool as a cucumber bride with a checklist three miles long. And I am not in the least ashamed to admit that, when I saw Annie being walked down the aisle by her Dad, I wept with all the grace of a toddler. There was some sniffling, a snort or two. More than a little runny makeup. I cared not- their vows were beautiful. And having gotten to know the fam and other close friends and seeing EVERYONE react the same way…it was simply a great wedding.

And the reception! After a neato unveiling of the room where we’d be dining- accompanied by Europe’s ‘The Final Countdown’ (Jared! Yes!)- we were escorted into a wine cellar that was outfitted like a different kind of Narnia/Terabithia wonderland. (Clearly, the apex of my happiness can be achieved by simulating children’s books.)

Best dinner ever.

Best slide show ever. (Again, more Ugly Crying. What is WRONG with me?)

Best first dance/parents’ dance/new friends/old friends/tipsy friends dancing.

Brunch the next day at a spot so pretty that, had I known, I would’ve camped out with Annie and Jared the night before. (Hi guys!)

And then- AND THEN- OMG vineyards. Like, Napa vineyards. Where they letcha drink the wine. We met up with some darlin’ pals at A. Rafanelli Winery and entered with a secret code. (I live for stuff like that.) Not only were we given wine glasses the size of globes and strict instructions to ‘catch up,’ but we were then taken on a private tour of the rooms where they were pressing the grapes and storing them in 1k apiece oak barrels [Nat: “As you do…”] And we got to taste grape foam! And stick our heads in barrels and almost pass out from a C02 blast that nearly exploded our nostrils! And see the Prohibition Era washbin that started it all! (As another gal on our tour announced tipsily, “It’s like Willy Wonka- BUT BETTER.”)

And there were more vineyards. And vintage stores. And naps. And dinner at Mustard’s, a fancy schmancy bit of awesomeness- which we took to calling Moutarde’s– that we discovered on the Food Network. That seems to be our thing, lately. And it was really, really good. All of it. Except, maybe not the girl passed out on the parking lot dividers. She wasn’t so awesome. But her friends were there to make sure she wasn’t too drunk. And to cheer on the game of some sort they were watching on the bar area’s TV. Go sports. 

Of course, we had to have one last drink with the bride and groom- at the site of the first evening’s revelry. I had a Diet Coke. This led Annie to believe that I was dying. (She has never seen anything like that in my possession at a bar.) 

When it was time to go, I hugged her for a million years. It hit me that this pal, this terrific friend and massive part of my life, really lived in California now. With her husband. (And their two cats, but that’s a different story.) And I was SO excited to be going home to my bitsy gal (whom I missed like an amputated arm- did I mention I cried on the flight out? Maybe I have a hormone imbalance) but the thought of not seeing Annie for every single event in my life, inconsequential or huge, was gonna be HARD.