My mom had to draw the line somewhere. Everything about our wedding was already subtly (or not) triathlon themed. So when coachubby and I got excited about my dad's brilliant idea to have our guests dropped off at the bottom of the mountain on which we were getting married, then run up it in a race to their seats, mom put her foot down.
She was our volunteer wedding planner / self-made most-amazing-wedding-planner of the galaxy, and she'd already allowed us a triathlon-themed wedding cake, tables named after triathlons, and a ceremony in which coachubby promised to rub my sore IT bands for as long as we both shall live. Giving grandpa a heart-attack was not going to be a part of our magical day.
We didn't push the issue further--she even OK'd "Erin's Fuzzy Lover" as the name for the drink of the evening--and the result was the most perfect wedding. Ever. The weather was perfect, the band was amazing, the food was divine, and the cake was the most hideously perfect wedding confection ever placed in a ballroom. And our friends and family, combined with an open bar, made the most uproarious and fun wedding crowd ever assembled. And nobody had a heart attack. It was fantastic.
Below are some photo highlights:
Dad walks me down the...grass.
We cried. I'll blame my tears on the sun...
Can you find what's wrong with this picture? That's right, there's a bite out of the centerpiece. Somebody just couldn't wait for dinner, I guess...
And last, but not least...
The cake! Swimming on the bottom, biking up the middle, running on top.
Note: I am beating coachubby up the whole cake. Just sayin'...because it's the only time it will ever happen...that I beat coachubby up a cake...
And coachubby delivered on his promise to tell me where we were going on our honeymoon at the reception. Stories from FIJI coming soon!
XOXO,
TriDiva
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