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From 08-07-09

You can also see the stills by clicking this link.

For All My Peoples in the SLC

Enjoy the first of many videos to come:

Just before the hospital:



And after a couple days home:

Planning Lull

Wedding survivor has finished its pilot season. We now venture forward with the father/son duo of Philip Gabriel, the Phil Sciscione and his Sound investment Band, and Mara and her Secret Garden. In two weeks, we got our year's worth of being in the car. And now as we settle back into the rat race, we are confident with our choices, but not yet ready to put our feet up. A honeymoon, gift bags, after party, and seemingly endless other small things that will ultimately add up to the wedding of the millennium still have yet to be bought, planned, drank, and paid for. For now, however, I'm going back to triathlon training and football season.

We'll see you in the spring, but hopefully it won't be that long before something comes up. Happy planning.

Flower Diva

Eventually, some vendors have to be voted off the island. Some didn't even make it past the internet round. Going on the recommendation of a recently engaged barkeep, we sat with Dave at Floribunda. Dave possesses many of the same qualities as other male florists. In other words, he's a fruit. There was, however, a ring on his finger, and he did claim to be a parishoner of the church where we will be wed, but there's plenty of dudes out there that aren't yet out there. Not that it matters, and I was once told that it's a pre-requisite for some professions, along the same lines as having a doctor that's Jewish. But it was not for this reason that Dave was promptly removed from the short list.

We've come across two types of vendors along the way: the ones that need you, and the ones you need. Brides have a vision that is entirely their own, and since it's their day, why interfere? Why tell them the themes you have used, what you like, and that you refuse to include mums in the bouquets? And why can't we just buy the fun cookies and leave the flowers to someone who listens to what the bride wants?

A word of advice to the wedding planners reading this: Don't be bossed around by vendors with their nose in the air. Weddings are supposed to be fun, and when vendors act like they don't need you, you're likely to be made to feel that you're in the way on your wedding day, and how fun is that?

Cycling in Bucks

When I'm not sitting with florists (more on them later), I'm afforded the opportunity to hit the open road on my recently overhauled road bike. I spent twenty-six years turning my nose at spandex and clipless pedals, but a recent dedication to fitness by way of triathlon has convinced me to embrace my inner steroid-free Floyd Landis. I was never a fan of Lance, so even though I enjoy cycling, he gets no props. Besides, we're in PA, no?

Today, I clipped in on Stump Road and got myself lost close to the NJ/PA border. Not being familiar with the area, I had nothing to guide me aside from a quick glance at a map before I left the house. If you find yourself biking around these parts, make sure you look at a topographical map. I had to jump off my bike more than a few times to walk up some gnarly hills. When I managed to stop being a wuss and clip back in, I zoomed past the country homes of who knows who, but they were all quite nice. Some quaint, some over the top, and one particular home that caught my attention. It was a rambler on Ferry Road with red brick and yellow siding, but the home construction wasn't anything out of the ordinary. It was the eight small flags at the corner of the lawn and the marine corps flag on the doorway. I'm no Stephen Hawking, but it doesn't take a world renowned physicist to know that those flags meant untimely and uncalled for death abroad.

At that point, I said thank you to whoever was listening. Thank you for my two legs one and my one bike and my inspiration and my exhalation, and in that same breath I said fuck you to whoever was listening. Fuck you for making yin and yang and good and bad and mostly bad and mostly death and mostly violence.

Fuck you for those eight small flags that didn't need to be stuck in the dirt in the first place.

Photography Choice 'B' in the Sun Room

Another thing that we've learned during the planning process is that personality matters. Remember picture day in grammar school? The guy telling you where to look, to angle your chin 32 and a half degrees clockwise and rotate your shoulders down, no wait, over, no, down? Mr. Jostens held sway for those fleeting moments, and you let him, because he was always a happy guy, even if he may have been faking it. Now think about Mr. Jostens following you around and telling you what to do for 8 hours. Personality has been making or breaking vendors this entire week, and photographer 'B' is no exception.

For as many magazines Ms. B has been featured in, I'm not so sure I'd like to be bossed around by the little needlebutt for 8 hours. The upside to that is that we don't get her for the full 8 hours, rather, she takes off after the salad course, leaving her able assistant to handle shooting the drunk crowd. The photo quality is night and day, and Ms. B is good at what she does. So good, in fact, that it's gone to her mom-cut dome piece, and this is where she lost us. Either she's a shitty saleswoman, or she's got her nose in the air, but regardless, when I tell a joke and fail to hear laughter, I get the impression that a stick might be lodged in an uncomfortable place, and when you've got to deal with a lodged stick AND shooting a 15 person wedding party, somebody's bound to throw fists and/or crudites.

I, for one, would be appalled if that happened (unplanned) on my wedding day.

The Sound Investment

Along the course of the planning, we've realized that a lot of vendors work from home, and judging by the size of these homes, business is good.

This past evening was our first band showcase, given at the home of the band owner, Phil Sciscione. Phil's a great guy. Phil gave us a beer. Phil likes a lot of mirrors in his home. Phil used to have long hair, but it has since fallen out. He's pretty much a major stud entering his golden years as a successful wedding singer/wedding band owner.

The showcase was great. If you're in the market for a band, it's much better to hear them live, whatever the cost. Our fee was a trip through beautiful Norristown and a few wrong turns due to construction. After Phil lied about Kelly and I traveling all the way from Brooklyn earlier that day, they launched into the medley of all medleys, playing enough requests to sell us on The Sound Investment Band. They had the look (white sneakers, mullets, George Carlin) and the talent we were looking for. I guess that was the idea.

One vendor down, plenty to go.

Photography Choice 'A' vs. Roadies

Well, it turns out that the son portion of the father/son dynamic duo wasn't as hungry as I thought. At the end of the day, appearances mean what anyway? If appearances for behind the scenes talent meant anything, metal bands would be fucked, because roadies, in my opinion, aren't the best looking dudes out there. They are, however, pretty rad dudes. I don't think I could ever crawl around the elaborate stage setting of a Whitesnake Reunion Tour with a Les Paul in one hand and a Jack & Coke in the other. And photography choice 'A' shares the most important quality of great roadie: an eagerness to please no matter what the circumstances. This quality comes at a cost, however, as with all things wedding, and professional photography is another one of those things that makes me want to don a linen suit, a pair of Hay Soose leather sandals, leave the stubble attached to my face, and exhale "I Do" into a salty breeze.