The 18th day of January introduced us to Matthew and Stephanie Stock. As the air was cut with a slight chill, it took nothing away from the outside ceremony overlooking the sparkling water of St. Petersburg Women’s Club.
I pulled up to the pink building ready to pop the cherry of my first wedding; rental furniture was wheeled in, tiny cupcakes were being set up at the cake table—conveniently tiny, delicious looking cupcakes from Sweet Tweets that stared at me and tried to seduce me into eating them all night—drapes rose against the room’s décor on the walls and balcony to visually take you away from the Women’s Club and give you the finishing touch of the Matthew and Stephanie celebration.
My initial task, conquer the seating chart. Conquer, I have you know is deeply appropriate here because, magically chairs move after you have set them, guests are added last minute and the moment I finished with all table décor and turned to start something else, I hear a shrill gasp followed by the impact of shattering glass. Oh. My. Gosh. My body cringes.
Even now, weeks later, when my mind goes back to that moment, the heart sinking sound of glass exploding, I can feel my chest dropping again, because you automatically assume the worst right , like an animal stampede, broken windows, someone playing Frisbee with the plates—like I said, thinking the absurd worst. Apparently, the material used to secure the drapes on the balcony slipped out of the drape securing team’s hands and of course, nailed the table number and center pieces! Right on target. The bride’s parents provided the table numbers, glitter covered numbers standing on rectangular mirrors. Tammy assured all was fine, then handed it off to me to, “put back together”. Oh? You mean these crumbs of a number peppered with glass on the floor? Yep, she told, We brought everything from hot glue to gum and toothpicks, she winked at me, make it work. So I pulled out my memories from 5th grade arts and craft class and looked back to the one episode of Martha Stewart Living I saw two years ago.
I emerged ten minutes later glistening with glitter, number intact AND recognizable. What’s next? I’m ready.
The ceremony and dinner were gorgeous. Not that I expected less, but it makes the difference in that extra confidence boost when you were able to add a hand. (hint hint: check out all the wedding pics on our Facebook page in the album “St. Petersburg Women’s Club – Stephanie + Matthew) In my head I heard Hannibal’s voice, “I Love it when a plan comes together.” Trivia: Who knows what 80’s show that’s from? Any-who-does-it, the classic deep purples and cream of the Stocks’ wedding gave the day an ideal balance of masculine and feminine grace.
Dinner and dancing! By this time the guests had well acquainted themselves with all the offerings of the bar. The bar ran out of ice, ran out of a few soda options, minor setbacks. They came well stocked with the essentials to supply a party, and made a mad dash to get more ice. More ice, but no need for more soda.
As I learned from this experience, roasting an entire pig is a Puerto Rican tradition that Stephanie and her family wanted to incorporate in their celebration. At the end of the buffet table lay, the most noticeable guest of the evening, an entire, roasted, pig. It’s not something I was used to, actually seeing the animal that has become your food, but I gotta say, to see it all perfectly perched with a mouth full of apple was quite the sight. And definitely didn’t stop anyone from indulging.
After finally picking up a cupcake for myself—yes, I broke down—the alcohol was packed up, the drapes came down, the dance floor cleared and we wrapped up the cold night. I checked wedding 1 off my list.
GAG REEL: after wedding party photos, one of the groomsmen stepped merely from the grass to the road and utterly wiped out WITHOUT spilling his drink mind you. He blamed it on the shiny rented shoes. Sure, “Blame It on The A-A-Alcohol.”
FOOD: Happy Hour, formally Cocktail Hour, the catering group Chives served bite sized fresh tacos placed on limes. The limes were halved and a V was cut into the top to hold the taco. With a side of creamy guacamole, “scrumptious” does little justice.
Until next time, straight from the New Girl: the good, the bad, and the honest truth.