So, as promised, here’s a smattering of my youngest sister’s #flynnpesq Wedding Weekend 2015 highlights. (Because we’d need a coffee table book for the whole dang shebang. We’d probably need to borrow a few more coffee tables, too.) And as I don’t yet have access to Em’s sure-to-be glorious wedding photos (and because my phone was someone else for the majority of the day), here are a few cobbled-together pix:
The hotel had a salt water pool. It was freezing. My children cared not.
I swear Jasper was with us this weekend.
My daughters were flower girls. They were so serious about it. (Except when they weren’t.) For weeks beforehand, we’d practice scattering the paper flowers (which Auntie Emma so lovingly tied into little bags as part of her “will you be my flower girl” invitations) across their bedroom. One girl wasn’t sure if she should place petals in each person’s hand, and the other girl was fairly certain fistfuls of roses needed to be shoved directly at people. (I’ll let you determine which was which.) They both knew one thing for certain, however: Uncle Dan would give them a thumbs-up when they were supposed to start their walk down the aisle- and they were both prepared with their thumbs-up replies.
Only one of those wine bottles was hers.
There was sparkly face powder. Not for me or anything, but my sister made sure that my daughters received some. I’m not saying I’m bitter. But I’m just relaying the facts.
My son wore a tie dotted with sailboats. And yes, it was on an elastic band. And yes, P.J. was jealous.
My daughters began placing petals from their baskets to the floor…the moment they stepped out of the bridal suite. By the time they went down the hallway, outside, to the side porch, and down the aisle for the actual ceremony they were- shockingly- out of petals. Nora stopped halfway down the aisle, turned to someone, and asked if he had any roses. Because hers were gone. (Zu turned and went back the way she came because she remembered where she had left a bunch. Then, she walked perpendicular to the aisle because she spotted someone she knew- who probably needed a petal.) As I was already up on the altar with the other bridesmaids, I was grateful for Maid of Honor Auntie Chelly and her cohort Attempting to Blend P.J. Schoeny for getting the girls down the entirety of the aisle before dinnertime.
The bride looked stunning. (Again.) The groom looked dashing. (Again.) Their renewal vows were hilarious and wrenching and absolutely wonderful. (The girl who read that Pablo Neruda sonnet was something to behold as well, yeah?)
Suzy, so mentally DONE from the “hurry and wait” after the first 17 hour leg of the trip, and the fever pitch of excitement, face-planted (after a few minutes of a dinner table sway) into my arms. She took a nice little pashmina nap, followed up by a full-on snooze in the arms of our dear family friend Dee Dee, then took a spin in the arms of my cousin Trish, and then sprawled for a bit against my cousin Mirian. She woke briefly at 9 p.m., asked if she could eat some dinner and, on the way to getting said dinner, decided to dance to “just one song.” She passed out again at 10:30 p.m. and slept until breakfast.
Nora, who’s pretty much known for her “I’m gonna need a bit more space than that” demeanor, made it a point to dance with- and I quote- “every grown up girl.” Basically, anyone who looked “really beautiful.” AND YES, SHE ASKED HER MOTHER TO DANCE, THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING. Girl pretty much sat down twice the whole evening. It was marvelous to witness.
I pinned my Dad’s tiny enamel shamrock pin onto the back of Em’s wedding gown sash. Something borrowed, something that made the bride well up after her perfect makeup application. (Whoops.)
Em’s signature drink was a Huckleberry Flynn, which was pretty much a delightful combo of vodka, blue curaçao, and pink lemonade. (She had originally thought about a gin drink- but after seeing that crew throwing ’em back at the bar? Yeah, a less gin-tacular crowd was much appreciated.)
My Dad was one thousand percent there. With every squeeze and arm slung across the shoulder by pals- his and mine- Dave Flynn was remembered and celebrated and felt. As he told my Mom back in February, he couldn’t wait to see Susannah fling petals down that aisle. He knew he wasn’t going to physically be there. But he also knew that he was going to be there, you know? And so he was.
I could almost see him shaking hands (and doing that manly half-arm back slap) with friends. Smiling patiently as flowers were frantically moved and details were pointedly discussed. Grabbing a drink for a daughter and holding a sleepy grandkid. Dancing with my Mom to Uptown Funk. Stopping with me on the way out of town for one more Lobster Pot lobster roll. And reliving the previous night’s events with a murmured “tremendous.”
So- well done, Em and Dan. I think you’ve got this wedding thing down.
It was tremendous.
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