Mazal tov!

I got home too late last night to post an entry, but that is why the expression “bright and early” was coined. Hubby and I went to the wedding of a former student of ours, a guitarist and drummer, and a girl he met while he was in school. They’ve been out for a while, working across the country, and we were extremely flattered to be included in the celebrations. Our colleague the Duke was there as well, but without the Duchess as she had had an accident last week (he explained) wherein she cut her head and face, and while it was healing up, she didn’t feel like being seen. She missed a good party.

In Quebec, anyone can officiate at a wedding, provided they get the proper papers form the government before the event. The groom’s dad did the honours, and he nearly broke down emotionally at one point. It was quite touching. The wedding was on the property of the bride’s aunt, a lovely estate right on a lake an hour’s drive west of our home. The ceremony took place on a huge rock in a little stream, and they managed to fit bride, groom, four attendants of each sex, both sets of parents (including dad the minister) and the dog thereon. It was lovely.

But it was cold. I, like many of the younger women present, was wearing a dress that exposed my arms and shoulders, and had to keep myself wrapped up tight in a pashmina the whole time. Luckily the rain which had come and gone all morning let up and the sun came out, but it was windy and cold.

After the ceremony, we adjourned to a huge tent set up on the lawn and the reception ensued. The food was really good for a catered meal (chicken, salmon, or cannelloni for the vegetarians) and the desserts were all made by one of the guests as her contribution to the festivities. We gave our usual offering of pottery, this time a beautiful blue bowl made by the crystalline potter in our region.

After dinner they had a surprise for many of the guests. The mother of the groom is Jewish, which makes her kids Jewish. The groom went through all the appropriate rites of passage, and one of his sisters returned home for the wedding from Israel where she has been living for the past three years. (I was supposed to chat with her, but it didn’t happen.) So they had a mock Jewish wedding, four friends of theirs holding up a chupa, the mom making a little ceremony, with explanations, ending with the groom stomping on the glass, followed by the traditional dances where bride, groom, moms and dads are hoisted in the air on chairs. To be honest, for sheer madness and festivity, there is no wedding like a Jewish wedding.

After that we danced to music, the groom having set up an iTunes list of golden oldies. It was great. It was especially fun being seated at the “rowdy” Bushop’s table, with graduates from our and other programmes. One of my former students was there, and the jazz guitar teacher, who played during the ceremony and before the dinner with our jazz bass teacher, joined us. We looked at the table where the Duke was sitting and pitied him for being with the “old” people.

Hubby drank too much, of course, and I was the designated driver, which means I pulled him away at 11:00 (although it was later than that when we finally got on the road, as we had to say goodbyes to everyone and then find our car in the dark) as it was an hour’s drive and I didn’t want to start driving when I was already too sleepy. As it was, I was yawning my head off when we neared our highway exit, so my timing was pretty good.

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