Just a little shout out to the blogging world and anyone who may be following. I hope you all had a great Memorial Weekend. I was fortunate enough to start my Memorial weekend off by celebrating the union of these two Marines. That would be my daughter Mandaline, and her newly betrothed Joshua who is a drill instructor on Parris Island. (Sh…we must keep this on the DL, drill instructors really do have a softer side).
Due to the lack of time and attention these two would have for planning their own wedding, many of these details were delegated to me. I am not a professional wedding coordinator. I repeat, I am not a professional wedding coordinator. I had a motto going into this that any oncoming catastrophe would be avoided if I stuck to meticulous planning. If any of you have been following, I had a “vision” for this day.
Now, we will tally the results. First of all, Did I have dreams of being sophisticated and refined while walking around in heels and being an engaging hostess? TRUTH. I put myself into such a terrible frenzy that I fell down the stairs. Luckily my ex caught me, and it was truly a sign that we had come a long way. Thank god there was no footage. By the way, my husband’s name is Shane and my ex’s name is Duaine. For one day, and one day only, I got a free pass on calling each of them the other’s name.
My husband told me to relax and go get a margarita.
When I went to get one, the security guy at the bar told me that maybe I just needed a water, because he saw me fall down the stairs earlier and that maybe I just needed to slow down. OKAY, I WAS STONE COLD SOBER WHEN I FELL DOWN THE STAIRS.
There is one thing that was certain when we planned Mandaline’s wedding, Mandaline’s grandmother was going to make the cake. My mother is an icing designer and has worked in a bakery for many years and has done many great cakes. Josh, however, was on an ice cream tangent. That man loves his ice cream and he wanted an ice cream cake. This led to Mandaline and Josh’s first fight. He was not going to get his way with the ice cream cake. Our valid argument: It would melt and slide off the table.
Mandaline and I secretly conspired to get him a mini ice cream cake that would say, “Josh’s Special Cake.” This was the compromise.
St. George is just across the Nevada/Utah border. It is known for its Vegas heat. This is just cake science. My mother spent countless hours experimenting with the cake recipe. She played around with consistency, lemon juices, extracts, and various fillings. There were the challenges of baking it in one location, traveling with it, and frosting it in another. Well, by now you probably get where this is going. She had a vision for the perfect cake.
There’s no better way to put this. We have pictures. Actual PROOF that the cake was absolutely perfect at one point, but then…at another point, the cake starting collapsing in on itself. It was as if the icing was sweating it just as my mom and I were sweating it, and it started to lean. We tried to do a massive cover up with flowers, and just like a mountainous landslide, the cake finally fell like a newly developed sinkhole.
I was approached by many guests about this. A few at once. After this, I fell down the stairs. It was at this point that I had to put my foot down, the one that was bruised, where I could no longer feel my fourth toe. I KNEW how much work my mother had put into this. I was certainly not going to come down on the cake maker. She felt bad enough.
There was not enough time or resources to bake another cake. This is where my mother and I reached a momentous point in this process. It was absolutely necessary that we let this one go. Both of us were collapsing under the weight of it all, just like the cake, and we NEEDED to shrug this one off for our own well being.
Needless to say, JOSH’S CAKE HAD WON. Josh’s little ice cream cake was the integral part of the cake cutting ceremony.
This is the bottom line. Later in the evening I gave a little Margarita toast where I was a little tipsy, relaxed and walking much better than I had been stressed out and sober. I saw a few tearful eyes. I got complimented for being a great public speaker. Was I? I don’t even know. I don’t even remember entirely what I said. It was a Forrest Gump moment.
We had several military members at the wedding. Many former combat veterans, and at one point the security guard at our venue was also in handcuffs. My mother danced with many of these men after she learned to “let it go” also. Dancing with the grandma became a novelty for these Marines. She was a sought after woman. My mom was sober the entire time and it was the most excitement than she’d had in a long time.
Many people had traveled from all over the United States to be part of this day, and they all arrived and went home safely. Many of them were lucky to be alive, and to be there at all. Many of these Marines had former brothers in combat who had been put to rest. There would be no weddings. No future.
A cake falling is not a crisis. It is a first world problem. It would have been nice if the cake had held its own. However, maybe the cake needed to fall to remind us of what is important. The unifying force of love, and the sacrifices of those who would not be there for this lovely wedding on a Memorial Weekend. The cake was insignificant really. A petty little trifle. Love…well that lasts beyond anything that has ever fallen. Love endures all things.