Whisked Away

Love Weathers All

2011-08-29T06:58:00.000-04:00

I wasn't a glass slipper kind of bride. But not just because, frankly, they sound exceedingly uncomfortable. No, the erratic, eclectic weather our wedding day heralded two years ago today demanded practicality.

{Cindy shot it, but just you wait hive -- I'm so excited to do this photo justice by sharing all the details that led up to the moment the camera went "click."}

I've long believed rain visits on significant days of my life. Coming home from the hospital as a newborn. Proms and graduations. The first day of orientation at Villanova University. Snow bid me farewell as I moved from Boston back to Philly after grad school in December 2006. And, of course, there were the bizarre skies that helped make our wedding day so memorable.

So while the weather this past week defies the regional norm -- tremors from the Washington, D.C. earthquake on Tuesday, gusts and sheets of rain as Hurricane Irene made her way up the East Coast over the weekend -- I can't help but wonder what these conditions are forecasting about the year ahead.

Or maybe they're not omens. Maybe the wacky weather we've experienced recently is meant to remind me no matter what life brings, my best friend -- my love of 10 years, Mr. Bruschetta -- will be sloshing through every puddle, whether in celebration or consternation, right by my side. And that's just about the best anniversary present I can imagine.

Remember These Faces?

2011-08-14T17:26:00.002-04:00

{ all images, moving forward, courtesy of the amazing Cindy Patrick, unless otherwise noted}

What do you do when your videographer holds your wedding video hostage? Unfortunately, Mr. Bruschetta and I had the distinct displeasure of learning firsthand how to manage this frustrating, emotional situation.

The initial delay, I'll admit, was completely our fault. After our wedding, the mister and I immersed ourselves in all things house-hunting: HGTV and Zillow, learning the ins and outs of mortgages, inspections and appraisals (before closing on our "First and Forever" home in July 2010). We dragged our feet a bit getting our honeymoon pictures to our videographer (to be included in a slide-show featuring Andrea Bocelli's rendition of "O Sole Mio"), but assumed the video could easily be finalized after passing these photos along to him.

We communicated with him every two or three weeks, and each time, the promise was the same: The video's nearly complete, I'll have it for you very soon. In the end, it took the wedding equivalent of the jaws of life -- threatening litigation, and paying a surprise visit to our videographer's home, which was his office when we contracted with him back in 2008 (so, really, it wasn't too stalker-ish or creepy) -- to liberate our video from his clutches. The final product isn't free of flaws -- in his haste, I'm sure, our wedding date flip-flops between the correct year (2009) and 2011, and it ends proudly proclaiming us Mr. and Mrs. [insert Mr. Bru's last name here], despite the fact that I kept my maiden name -- but after one year of waiting, stressing and feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of losing precious day-of footage, I'll take it.

Hive, I'm so sorry for my prolonged absence. You've totally been on my mind, and I was never able to shake the guilty feeling I was letting down everyone eager to read about our special day. However, while our video was MIA, I just couldn't face the task of sifting through the 3,000+ images our fantastic photographer captured on our wedding day -- and, unfortunately, without knowing if I would ever hear our vows, relive my dad's insanely sweet toast or see our first dance (after two months' worth of dance lessons to prepare!) the thought of blogging sent me into a complete and utter panic.

I really can't wait to share our extraordinarily memorable day for you. I'm just going to ask for a smidgen more patience, while the husband and I sort through our pro pics, and I'll be back in about a month to kick off the official Bruschetta recaps -- if you'll have me, of course!

John Beckwith

2010-10-31T16:14:00.000-04:00

Daddy Bru was already a shoe-in for the "Best Father of the Bride" title after his art-acquiring heroics one week before our wedding (sorry, George Banks).

Little did I know that, while I was stressing over last-minute details and frantically trying to earn the status of "most tranquil bride," Daddy Bru was juggling his own wedding-related load. He shared this story with us at the rehearsal dinner, and even then, less than 24 hours before the wedding, as Mr. Bruschetta and I laughed at his moxie, one thought bubbled to the surface: "I can't wait to post about this on Weddingbee!"

Inspired by "Poor Wedding Dad" -- Weddingbee reader august15bride 's (now blogging / Tweeting as the fitness-loving Wannabe Athlete) father -- I asked Daddy Bru if he would recount the tale his pre-wedding antics for the hive. I hope you enjoy it as much as we did! And now, here's Daddy Bruschetta (with some links added by yours truly, and our "real" names used sparingly throughout) in his own words:

Two days before the wedding...and so much yet to do. Our contact at the F.U.E.L. House had a family emergency out of town, and left the final arrangements to an assistant. Mr. Bruschetta and I had to pick up all the booze and deliver it F.U.E.L. I figured while we were there, we’d make sure that appropriate art had been placed on the walls. Chris and I arrived at F.U.E.L.'s service entrance on 3rd Street, and began unloading case after case of adult beverages. We quickly saw that another unloading process was going on at the same time: A portrait gallery of assorted local artists’ landscapes, portraits, still lifes, etc. -- a welcome relief from what had been labeled as art that adorned the walls before.

As we completed the delivery, and a sense of ease concerning the facility had begun to take hold, my mind began to wander: In two days, this building would be full of people celebrating the Bruschetta wedding. What would it be like? Would it be everything she expected? Would it be memorable? For some strange reason, as I tried to picture it in my mind, I didn’t think of my other daughter’s wedding of less than two years earlier; rather, a panorama of wedding scenes from a movie I'd recently seen: Wedding Crashers.
(source)

Wait second! Owen Wilson was one of the stars of that movie, and what did I just read about him just the other day? That’s right, I remembered: He’s here in Philadelphia...right now...filming a movie with Reese Witherspoon, Paul Rudd and Jack Nicholson. I'd seen Nicholson at a Phillies game just a week earlier -- and read an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer a few days earlier which mentioned they were filming this very week on location in University City – less than three miles from where we at that moment. The entire cast had to be staying in the area, and in all probability, they were staying in one of the better hotels in Center City or Society Hill.

Oh, the wheels were turning.

“Chris,” I meekly suggested, “ do you think Margot would be upset, or feel that her special day would be ruined in any way, if Owen Wilson were to crash your wedding reception?”

Chris didn’t think I was serious and said, “She’d love it if he crashed, especially if Vince Vaughn were to join him.”
I told him I was serious and explained what I was thinking. Chris told me it was all wishful thinking. How would we get an invitation to Owen -- especially now, only two days before the wedding? (By the way, Chris still was okay with idea, even after he realized I was serious.)

Fair question, but I had an answer ready to allay his skepticism: The wife of one of my clients worked for the Philadelphia Film Office, an organization with the mission to promote Philadelphia as a site for filming, and assist producers in all aspects of working with the city once filming has begun.

I called Jerry to see if he could put me in touch with his wife. Unfortunately, he told me she was off this week and out of town.

By now I was pumped and emboldened. Nothing was going to stop me. I picked up the phone, called the PFO and asked for Sharon Pinkenson, the director. I got through to her secretary, but she wasn’t about to put me through unless I explained the nature of my call. What the heck! I began to explain the whole crazy notion. As I was telling her this story, it occurred to me that this could actually be a great public relations stunt for the Film Office, the movie's producers and Owen Wilson’s publicist. A couple years earlier, he'd gone through some troubling personal issues and could probably use a boost in his public image. As I told Sharon's assistant what a great opportunity this would be to all concerned if Owen showed up (with camera crew in tow), had a few drinks, and then went out and did whatever rich Hollywood stars do when stuck in a town like Philadelphia on a Saturday night in August, I began to imagine that it could actually happen...despite the negativity I was getting back in return.

“I can get your message [an invitation to the reception and my cell number] to the Film Office’s liaison on location in West Philly, but I can’t be sure that it will get to Mr. Wilson. I don’t know if Mr. Wilson would want to attend. He may have other plans.”

But, at the end of our conversation, she did admit it was an original idea (no one else had thought of this -- at least no one had floated anything similar through the Film Office) and would be great publicity for the movie, the city and Owen, if he and his agent thought they needed this kind of attention.

So, all day Friday, I made sure my cell phone was charged. I kept checking for missed calls. Nada.

By the time evening rolled around, the rehearsal and dinner would be underway and my focus would shift elsewhere. We were now in the midst of the 24-hour whirlwind. Still, I would occasionally think about it. I gave the Film Office all the information: Betsy Ross House beginning at 5:30. He can bring three guests. Stay as long as he wants. Maybe...just maybe.

Even as the reception began, and guests started to arrive right up to the [edited to remove spoilers for the yet-to-come Bruschetta recaps!], I would occasionally look at the gate that opened up to the courtyard, half expecting to see that mop of tousled blond hair. I even knew what I was going to say: I would walk up to him, introduce myself as the bride’s father, and question whether he was with the groom's family.

Alas, it didn’t happen. But it makes a great story! And more importantly, it was a wonderful wedding everyone enjoyed, even without Owen Wilson. He’ll never know what a great party he missed.

Are you planning on inviting any "crashers" to your wedding? Did you have any famous faces at your reception? Share *your* story!

Two Birds (Er, Bows), One Stone

2010-09-09T19:07:00.021-04:00

Excuse this brief pause from the Weddingbee blogging -- I'll be cooking up another post or two for next week (promise, Pengy!).

Okay, here's the background: Since closing on our "First & Forever" home at the end of July, my mind drifts easily to house-related projects. As we were preparing for settlement, Sister and BIL Bruschetta -- who are expecting in mid-November -- began preparing their first place for sale. And while Sister and BIL Bruschetta started searching for their new home, Mama Bru and I mailed the baby shower invitations -- which included a small blurb encouraging guests to wrap their presents to reflect their "gender guess."

New home, with potential rooms needing painting (especially the nursery!), plus new baby, with an upcoming pink-and-blue-themed shower to celebrate? The super cute DIY bows Jessica created over on How About Orange popped into my head, with one home-improvement-themed stand-in for the magazine pages: paint swatches.

The resulting bows are just too cute! And, in one convenient little package, six potential interior paint colors each, for either a baby boy or girl.

Flip them over, and you can even see the (in this case, Behr) color name and number on some of the bow loops!

This craft still needs a bit of perfecting, as the thick loops don't adhere to each other easily. They're definitely adorable, though, and I hope to figure out how -- Glue Dots and double-sided tape aren't strong enough -- to get these bows to stick, despite the cardstock-y nature of the swatches.

In case Sister and BIL Bruschetta stumble across this post, I don't want to reveal which color would adorn *our* gift. So why don't you guess?

Seven Day Glitch

2010-09-07T08:21:00.000-04:00

(Or, Why Daddy Bruschetta Could Be Mayor of Philadelphia)

You're counting down to the wedding. Finishing up some projects, ditching others and trying to find the time to jot down a proper honeymoon packing list. The last thing you need right now is a curve ball. But that's precisely what we got one week before our much-anticipated day.

In early 2008, when Mr. Bruschetta and I had secured our venue -- the erstwhile F.U.E.L. House (which has since been rebranded "TRUST") -- we learned we'd be able to peruse the gallery as the wedding approached to see if we wanted to substitute any of the "stock" art stored on the building's third (administrative) floor.

We adored the F.U.E.L. House (yeah, name change be damned! At least for the purposes of my posts, it just feels wrong to call the place where we celebrated so jubilantly something unfamiliar, to which we have absolutely no connection), for many reasons, including its eccentric art displays. We loved the idea of splashes of color -- whether from abstract, three-dimensional pieces or paint-adorned canvases -- infusing the beautiful, neutral-hued space.

Know what we saw lining the walls on August 21, 2009? Nearly 100 small, square, frames, each holding its own black-on-beige sketch. Colorless to the extreme. The very definition of bland. Vanilla without the deliciousness. (Sorry for the lack of pictures, hive! Shock definitely get the best of me, and I forgot to capture the monochromatic display.)

Whisked Away

Love Weathers All

Remember These Faces?

John Beckwith

Two Birds (Er, Bows), One Stone

Seven Day Glitch

Man Twirls* and Marriage Prep

When Life Stings Back: One Bee's Mea Culpa

I'm Honey Wheat, He's Sourdough...

You Complete Me

Grazie Mille!

We're Ba-ack!

Birds Do It, Bees Do It

Day #638

Urbane Playground

"Turtled" Treats

Just the Two of Us & Other Table Talk

Twisted Tiers

Thanking the PPC

Aisle Fleet

Two Turtle Loves

Meltdown

Dressing A"pope"priately

Crossing "T"s and Dotting "I"s

Tanks A Lot!

Gobo Oh No!

Temper Tantrum...

Viva Italia!

(Almost) Happily Ever After

Loved and Lost

Letterpressed and Stressed

Parking Pickle

Freshly-Squeezed Rehearsal Dinner Invitations

A Note To Our Guests

We're Adopting

Boobage

Maiden Voyage?

Tie-ing the Knot

Gawk of the Town

Stranded

Want Another Helping of Bruschetta?

Shell Shocked

DOCtor's Orders

Jaw, Meet Floor

Wedding Cake...With Birthday Candles?

Keeper of the Key

Clutch Confusion

It's (Not ) Always Sunny In Philadelphia

A Different Kind of List

The Writing On the Wall

That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles

Grape Expectations

(Cuff) Link Love

It's A Tossup

Rocky Road

The Something Borrowed Blues

Ye Olde Map Shoppe

Wedding Foodtography

And Call It Macaroni

2,922

Bowled Over

Something New (And Blue!)

Sizing Snafu

Not Much But the Kitchen Sink

Must-Bee TV

Much Anticipated Con"GRAD"ulations

Decoding the Dress Code

Two-Shoe Bru

Giving the Honeymoon the Boot

Cooperation

When-a the Moon Hits-a Your Eye...

Deflowering the Groomsmen

(Cook)bookish

Bouquet Toss, Toss, Toss, Toss

Fa LALA

Fran-tastic

Seasons of Love

One-Year Eye-niversary