The Reception Was Lovely Except For That Part Where My Dress Was On Fire

Another weekend away, this time in the fields of CT.

We didn't leave until Saturday afternoon. D and I had originally planned an elaborate night at home performing a cooking experiment wherein we would attempt to replicate the caramelized onion / goat cheese tart from Balthazar. While commuting home I decided that staying in would be a waste of my glamorously styled hair. D was easily convinced to go on a date. We ended up dining outside at a cute place with cute waiters on 10th. We ordered too much food and didn't have room for dessert, which was fine with me. We tried to watch Winter Passing when we got home but not even Will Farrell could save it.

I accomplished nothing on Saturday morning despite my lofty plans to clean and work out and read read read. We left at about 1:30 with PW. We picked up the car, had a snack and modern furniture detour, and were completely checked in by 4:10. I was worried about the new haircut and only having twenty minutes to deal with it, but it looked cute and done with only minimal invasiveness.

The reception was charming. It took place under tents in a vast field outside a bed and breakfast. We shared veggie burgers and salads. We drank wine. Most wore flip flops. I took photos and got a wonderful compliment. The speeches were precious and the support of the family was amazing. We square danced and had far more fun promenading than we ever could have imagined. The wedding is a model for the future imaginary wedding that may or may not happen. I've been accumulating so much data and think that I would like to, if it ever happens, celebrate my union casually in a loft or in a field. A big party with little fanfare.

It was lovely to see everyone. It was a reunion for many of us. Sometimes I forget how much I miss people until I see them again. D said that for him its the opposite. I caught up with people I haven't seen in nearly five years. I saw old, familiar faces and became acquainted with new ones.

There were anti-mosquito candles sticking out from the grass at random. Tall ones, about three feet high, that looked almost like fireworks. People were drunk, and weren't necessarily paying attention to this sort of thing. I saved someone from backing into it and lighting her dress on fire as she backed up to pose for a photo.

I was trying desperately to get a decent no-flash exposure of the square dancing. I backed up.

Suddenly I felt the inside of my thigh getting really, really, REALLY HOT.

I looked down and my dress was on fire!

I don't know what happened. I have no idea. Had I been more sober I imagine I would have freaked out more, but I guess I just put it out. I feel like what happened was that I moved the fire, because it was on my dress and then it was on the ground and people were stomping it in the grass.

I was only traumatized, at the time, about the dress. "My dress!" I exclaimed. People ran over to me with water and said "The dress will be fine..." "But it was on fire!" others said. "My dress!!! NO!"

A girl said "No, see? It's coming off... it's just ash."

Ash. My dress, folks, was apparently fire-proof.

Awesome.

It's a little charred but it mostly came off. I dropped it off to be dry cleaned this morning.

I didn't feel much like dancing after that. D said "Do you want to dance some more?" and I employed one of the techniques I am always forgetting and said "This is serious. I'm a bit traumatized and don't feel like dancing all that much."

We called a cab to go home and they said "Ummm... twenty minutes to an hour?"

Ugh.

We ended up getting a ride from AC, who used to live in my room in Somerville.

Our drive to the brunch was lovely as we got to really look at the area, which was rich in colors. There were trees and swans and water and grass and people fishing and yes! I want to go back some time when there is not a wedding reception and do some photography. The colors. Gasp.

Everyone was hung over at brunch because apparently everyone stayed until like 3 am. Kids! I took more photos and said sad good-byes, and "Hopefully I'll see you soon!" but really it was "Hopefully I'll see you ever again," because once something like this has finally happened you know there's no reason to ever see the friends of your friends again. It's one of the casualties of moving away. You lose the people you see because they're there, not because you make an effort to see them.

We drove back to NYC, and returned the car two minutes late in the stagnant and nasty city air. D's cousin was spontaneously in town so we hung out with her for a bit and then excused ourselves to do Sunday projects like cleaning and laundry and grocery shopping for dinner parties. She took us out for an expensed fancy dinner (woo! desserts for all!) and we watched The Producers after I made the beginnings of what will tonight become creamy pesto.

Which reminds me... I should get home so I can make creamy pesto!

Oooh! Monday night party!

Until tomorrow...