Our wedding story, from Shane Knudsen's photos.
Five "portraits" from the official photo shoot.
People brought instruments for diversion while waiting around for the next photo ... and became one.
Bill Quern made us this cool "Ribbon Tree" papercut, which our graphic designer (me) was delighted to use.
Chloe arrives. Have you ever tried to ride in a car wearing a wedding dress?
Friends took up our invitation to play in the wedding processional, Jamtland Brudmarsch (pdf, mp3), which we learned the previous summer at scandi camp. Here they've processed and people are looking to see who's next.
Peter Amidon (our fab officiant), my mom, and me.
Chloe and her dad.
Chloe likes trains.
Eight women (friends and family) sing a four part shape note song, led by Mary Alice.
Becky and Keith play an interlude.
Peter says "By the authority vested in me as Your Friend, I now pronounce that you are husband and wife!"
Scott comes through the receiving line.
Lots of kids.
The best bride. (Beaded necklace by my sister Carol.)
In the 90s, friends and I made a life-size cardboard cutout called "The Tim" for Tim Lane's wedding, using a giant Xerox of my body (in Commonwealth Morris Men kit) topped by Tim's head. It had many adventures, but finally was just languishing in my attic so I gave it away when moving to Philadelphia.
But unbeknownst to us it was reborn as "The Rick"! And made a surprise appearance.
Scott and Bill think a lone cutout just isn't right, and sneak off to do something about it.
"The Chloe" appears, and the world is right once more.
(We had a taste-test party for nine kinds of sparkling juice—Martinelli's Cranberry-Apple won.)
Ellen makes a toast in front of our wedding quilt, an amazing gift from the Philly dance community.
Waltzing with Chloe's parents.
Sashaying down the center.
Our Naked Chocolate Cafe cake was The Best Ever, really.
The Commonwealth lads dance for us.
They decorated our car and filled it with balloons! I was psyched to drive home with the string of immense cans making an immense racket, but Chloe's perhaps more sensible preference prevailed and we cut 'em off. Plenty of good loud honks though!
And we kept the little gift from Sarah and Bill.
(You just might find a copy of Sam Barlett's "Stuntology" book in Sarah's bathroom.)