The awakening sun lit the room and the hallways of the house with pillars of golden sunlight, the blankets ruffled from a restless night filled with excitement, which today would be released. My cousin, Veronica, after several years of dating, will now marry the man of her dreams, Adrian. After all of the anticipation, planning, and news updates, we’re off to Santa Barbara for her rehearsal wedding, wedding, and reception.
A smell of bacon runs through the house, and shouts rush to my ears from the downstairs kitchen. Groggily but systematically I turn my body halfway off the bed, and push myself off. My freezing toes are alleviated as the friction between my dragging feet and the carpet warm them. At the stairs, my soles are forced to lift themselves into the frigid air, up then down, up then down.
After this lock-step procedure, the cold, cold tile greets my feet to much disgust, and the lit hallway glares my view. Leading to the kitchen my stomach protests for food, and as the smell intensifies, the protests worsen.
The warm, rustic colours of my kitchen greet me as I walk in. Awaiting my arrival for some time now, is a plate with eggs, toast, bacon and hashed browns.
“Good morning,” says my Dad, a man whom time seems to have spared in both appearance, health, and spirit. He has a caring face with a broad, tall stature. “Your food will get cold, eat it now. I didn’t make this food for no reason.”
“Thanks, dad,” I reply. I greet my mother, “Morning, mom.”
My mom isn’t paying much attention at this point, simply eating. I follow suit and begin to eat, as well.
“So, when are we leaving?” I ask. I hope to leave a bit early this time around, because we always either underestimate traffic or underestimate the distance.
“Oh, ...
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.... I head back with my plate to the table. We talk with the others at our table, and then the food arrives in a buffet style. I grab some meat, potatoes, and chicken breast.
The meat is a bit dry, but it’s excellent. The potatoes are moist and flavourful, and the chicken I think has too much barbeque sauce. It’s a bit of a let down, but I still go for seconds anyways.
Finally after a couple of hours the bride and groom come around and greet others. The groom is in a black tuxedo, and the bride in her dress. After all the stress of planning the wedding, she finally seems relieved and happy.
And then, I finally realized, even though a wedding is a pain to plan, and you may get cold feet half way through, it’s always a gift to be able to reunite family and start a future together with someone else. A wedding, I learned, in the end, is worth it one hundred percent.
I break up the toast and push the pieces down my throat with my fingers.
My brother said he liked the dish very much it was just that it was a little dry. He also said that the rice had a lemon hint in the rice because it was cilantro lime rice, the corn was very sweet, the black beans were savory, and that the tomatoes were evenly cut and flavorful. In addition, my brother also said that he was full after the meal I cooked .
I am sure you will all agree that this has turned out to be a fabulous wedding celebration so far. Rhonda, you really do look beautiful in that dress and I could see Tim swelling with pride as you walked down the aisle earlier today.
As I walked into the family room, I could feel the gentle heat of the crackling fire begin to sooth my frostbitten cheeks. I plopped myself down on the sofa. The soft cushions felt like heaven to my muscles, sore from building snowmen, riding sleds, and throwing snowballs from behind the impenetrable fort.
Spring and summertime come around, wedding invitations begin to weed their way through the mail, and dates are set aside for weddings to attend. Months are spent planning out a perfect day. Each person develops high hopes that the wedding and ceremony will be as close to perfect as it can possibly get; this is often not the case. A wedding is not a wedding without a last minute issue or family drama. But after the wedding, after the first dance, after the party, after the honeymoon, after everything marriage is made up to be, reality strikes.
Searching around to find a pertinent closing thought, all were overshadowed by the validity of the following: " You don't marry someone because you can live with them, you marry them because you simply cannot live without them." Ladies and gentlemen, if you could all be upstanding, and join me in a toast: To the two people who are so dear in all our hearts, the bride and groom.
The groom would wear a black and white tuxedo with either a bow or a tie.
went to sit down on the sofa. A few minuets later my food was ready
Finally after what seemed like years, I walked out to greet my new father-in-law and my new wife. I shook his hands as he gave away his youngest daughter to start our own family, and then I reached out for the arm of my bride. Together we walked the rest of the way down the aisle and stood in front of the pastor’s
she puts the breakfast dishes on the table and addresses her owners with a "yes
When I look at the bride and groom, I feel such a kaleidoscope of emotions. I know that Kari has found her true match and I know that theirs will be a marriage of long standing. My heart is bursting with love for you two today. I know you have a wonderful adventure ahead of you, and with God?s blessing your marriage will last for decades to come.
Weddings The food is likely to be vegetarian, although the rice pudding dish (var), which is traditionally served at Kashmiri weddings, can contain lamb. The feasts are sumptuous so be prepared to eat a lot. Cutlery is not always used so follow tradition and eat off banana leaves with your fingers.
tea and go back to the dining room. I sit at the table and listen to my
Dad has a knack for cooking at the shack as I do not recall one lousy meal I have eaten here. I step to the bedroom and take off the majority of my layers of clothing quickly so I can join the rest of the group. My dad serves me a plate and I start eating the tender meat as I sit down on the snug couch.
The immaculate white carpet. It is so white, it looks brand new even though it is twelve years old. It feels plushy, warm and soft under my feet. I go into the kitchen, and suddenly the floor changes. The floor is no longer soft and plushy carpet, it is hard and cold and my stocking feet slide easily as if I were on ice skates. The kitchen is so small it can barely accommodate all three of us at the same time. I sit in the rickety metal chair with the white pleather seat and pull-down step. The chair squeals with my every movement. I rest my elbows on the cold formica countertops as I talk to my grandma and grandpa. The sharp corner jabs into my side, and I quickly recoil.