American Girls

My daughter is a married woman.  We came back Monday from our Portland jaunt to celebrate her wedding.  In my speech I joked about a time when she wanted me to buy her an American Girl doll.  When we were prepping for the speech, my wife wisely said I needed to tie that back to the event.  I added “and now she has one of the best American girls ever as her wife”. I meant every word of it.  And I finally have a blog name for my new daughter-in-law. She’ll be known as AG going forward.

The celebration went swimmingly, despite the fact that both my wife and I were physical wrecks.  I’m hobbling around with a cane due to my spinal stenosis and wifey tested positive for COVID upon her arrival in Portland. I was supposed to get an epidural the week before but my rehab doctor saw “abnormalities” on my MRIs.  Fortunately, two neurosurgeons confirmed that they were from my 1999 surgery. My spinal cord looks like five miles of bad road, although they put it in more technical terms. In any case, I will get my shot next week as my wife awaits her COVID rebound.

We kicked things off Thursday night with rooftop beers at Migration Brewery and then dinner at Kell’s Irish Pub.  The joint was empty when we walked in, so I was a little concerned about the fare they’d be serving up, but all enjoyed their dinner.  Sadly, my wife was isolating back at the hotel room this evening, sipping Rombauer on the patio with my sister and LA.  I was able to attend as my sturdy son pushed me through the streets of Portland in a wheelchair we had rented. Our busy evening also allowed me to miss the debate.

Friday brought a family dinner at Serratto.  We had a room to ourselves, and we had quite the time, as the chow and company were stellar. My better half was not there to celebrate with me, but we met up with the masked marvel shortly after at the welcome party held at the Multnomah Athletic Club. The MAC puts my posh club to shame. Fortunately, there was an outside deck where my wife could show her face and the weather cooperated.  We had an excellent turnout of friends and family.

On Saturday morning Sonny Boy had a glimpse of his future life as he came to my hotel room to help me get in the shower.  He didn’t have to scrub me, but I did need help getting my leg over the tub wall. He stuck around to give me a hand dressing, mainly getting that dang shirt neck buttoned. The fathers and sons wore blue tuxes we rented at Men’s Wearhouse.  I must say we all looked dapper.

SB and I arrived at the venue about 1:30 for the 4pm ceremony. We had pictures taken but there was also a lot of sitting around. We grabbed a bite to eat after the snaps, then nervously awaited go time. 

It was a bit cloudy as we all lined up for the procession but were assured that there was a zero chance of precipitation. Wobbly and misty DJ along with the Mrs. managed to get the girl to her designated spot. I had a brief scare when I realized I was stepping on her train as I was about to hand her off, but I managed some unlikely fancy footwork.

The ceremony started with the bridesmaids taking their seats and the brothers standing at the ready with the rings.  The ebullient officiant did an fantastic job, and everything came together without a hitch, except for the few rain drops we felt. After their first kiss as a married couple, the brides proceeded back down the aisle to the whoops of the crowd.

We managed to get some pre-arranged village pictures done before the rain started in earnest. All took cover and grabbed a drink, and we got more extended family pictures taken under shelter. After the cocktail hour we repaired upstairs for a family style dinner of salad, beet salad, risotto, chicken and salmon. The girls had been impressed during their food tasting the month before, and rightly so.  The pinot was flowing freely.  I’m a Zin snob but the wine was excellent.  Even 4M said so.

My two nieces and nephew serenaded the crowd at the beginning of dinner with a mash up of Adele’s Feel My Love and Taylor’s Lover.  Those kids are talented as hell and knocked it out of the park.  Or out of the winery, if you’re looking for accuracy.

The maids of honor did a great job with their speeches, touching and sincere. AG’s dad cracked us up with his. Then we were up.  Nobody can bat 1.000.  Actually, I thought my wife did very well although she was saying hers was mechanical.  She did use cue cards, but the emotion was real.  Mine was pretty good too although I stumbled a bit. Speaking of stumbling, the girl managed to save our father/daughter dance by holding me up for the duration of it.

I sat most of the rest of the night while a bunch of youngsters and the braver adults jumped around on the dance floor.  It was interesting to see several six-foot-tall young women in five-inch heels putting on their best moves.  They were still rocking when the wife and I left, arriving at the hotel at the unheard-of hour of 11pm.