Tag Archives: Family

Canon in D

Nearly every little girl that I know, or have known, has had some idea or fantasy about their wedding.  And most have got it planned out long before they even meet the man that they want to marry.

 

Lord knows that I did.  At least twenty times.

 

I can’t even begin to think about how many times my mother bought me bridal magazines so that I could look through the pictures and gaze lovingly and longingly at the dresses, and the cakes, and the rings.  I watched hours upon hours of the shows on TLC about women and their weddings.  And weddings on a budget.  Somewhere at the house in the states my mom has a folder of ideas that I started saving for my wedding.  Lord knows how many years ago.

 

And for the most part, my dream wedding didn’t change from about the age of 18 until around about… now.  It would be a small family and friends gathering, and the colors (as everybody who plans a wedding knows, having the right colors is important) were going to be white, dark blue, dark green, and silver.  But mostly white.  Everything white. White on white on white with accents of blue and green and silver.   My dress was going to be white and silver, my flowers were going to be mostly white with little blue flowers or gems here and there and a cascade of ivy over my arms and hands.  My bridesmaid were going to be in white with blue satin sashes, and my husband was going to be in a kilt. Yes a kilt.  I am attached to my family’s scottish heritage.

 

The dream reception is in a room covered in white fabric, the tables are covered in white linen, and everywhere there are white trees, pure white with silver, blue and green metallic shimmery things in them, and candles everywhere.  The cake would be a white cake, flavored so craftily with vanilla, and an earl grey mousse inside, and covered with a white thick frosting, that is not sweet at all.  The music would be everything I could think of that would make me happy, make people dance and smile, and make my mother cry.  And the last song of the night would be Stairway to Heaven, because that’s just the way it goes.

 

The honeymoon was ideally imagined about being spent in Australia, when that was on the other side of the world. And in my head, all of this could be done for less than two thousand dollars. Well, except for the honeymoon.

 

But now?  What would the dream wedding look like now?  A small gathering of friends, in a park or field or backyard, with a handful of flowers, in a sensible dress that can be worn again in theory.  Dinner would be almost like a potluck, with dessert being tea treats and sweets baked the day before.  And the honeymoon?  Wherever the dream took me.

 

What got me thinking about all this today?  Has something in my life changed? Is there a secret that nobody knows about yet?

 

No.  I just get crazy ideas in my head and have to put them on paper.  Also, one of the songs on the ‘bedtime’ cd that we’ve been listening to at night now (a requirement for me to sleep easily is some form of noise, or pure exhaustion) has the Canon in D on it.  You know that song.  It’s everywhere.  All around you.  In nearly everything romantic or wedding related, you’ve heard that song.

 

I hate that song.

 

If I am planning my wedding and anybody ever wants to suggest help with the music or anything, please rest assured that your help will be greatly appreciated.  So long as you leave that song completely and totally out of any suggestions.

 

So, while reviewing my music that I have in my head, I got stuck on the Canon in D.  And that spurred this post.

 

And now for something completely different, a question for my reader, whoever you may be.

 

Do you/did you have your dream wedding planned long before it was a reality?

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Identity

so, as I was getting myself ready for bed tonight, I looked into the mirror at myself and sighed, stopping what I was doing.

I know my name. I know my values, for the most part, and I know my goals, in the rough sense.  And I know my past.  I can fairly reliably trace my family back on both sides to before they immigrated to the US.

I can see hints of both families in my face. My mother’s nose for instance, my father’s bone structure.  People say that I look like my mother, until they see me with my father.  And then, there’s really no denying that I am their child.  No denying it at all.  Not that I want to.

My family has passed down a lot of things to me, traditions from both sides, religious and not.  Superstitions abound that have been taught to me since I was little (don’t throw away both shoes in a pair at the same time, you don’t want anybody walking in your shoes.  When you get scared, spit rapidly three times to chase the fright away).

I also lucked out and got the big boobs, the dark hair, the curls and the dark brown eyes that E loves so much.  But staring there in the mirror, looking at myself as I’m getting ready for bed, I have to wonder,

Did they have to pass down the ever present facial hair?