Wedding In Comer

Yesterday, I returned to Comer to help my friend, Spring, photograph the wedding of Mallory and Chris. I first met Mallory just a couple of weeks ago when Spring took her bridal portraits. That was the same day that I posted two previous blogs about wild horses and my new friend Bicycle.

When we arrived at the Sprinhill Plantation, all the girls in the wedding party were down at the lodge. The guys were up at the main house, listening to the Alabama game. Pictures started off without a hitch down at the logde. There was this one moment when one of the bridesmaids called me "ma'am". My God...she has probably already graduated from college, calling me ma'am. It was a painful and sobering reminder that I will turn 36 years old in four short weeks!

My job was easy at first...run here, there, and yonder fetching things for Spring and gathering up crews of folks for the next picture. It was a beautiful day...still rather hot for October, but truthfully, we couldn't have asked for better weather. The distance between the lodge and the main house was about the length of two football fields. Not really that big of a deal, unless you were wearing high heeled, sling back shoes, like me.

While I was working with Spring, I felt like a relative of Forrest Gump. I ran everywhere that I went because I felt like whatever I was fetching was of immediate importance. Again, running was a good thing, unless you were wearing hig-heeled, sling-back shoes, like me.

Just before the ceremony began, I was asked to go back down to the lodge (time number four!) to retreive the lights and umbrella for further pictures. Also, I was supposed to find an outliet for the plug to the back light. Spring wanted to take picture down at the barn and up at the house too. The service began at 6PM and light was leaving us quickly.

I ran down to the lodge and got the stuff. I looked like a dissheveled crazy woman trying to balance all that stuff in two hands. Let me recall all the things I held while running in heels the distance of two football fields: a spot light, a tripod with two cords attached, one cord with a tiny silver attachment on the end that connected to the camera, (Spring had given me special instructions to hold it in my hand so that it wouldn't slide off), a 100 foot extension cord, my sweater to use when the sun went down, a photography umbrella, a tube of lipstick that the bride had given me an hour earlier, and a slip of scratch paper from the groom's mom that had a list of all the pictures that she wanted to have taken at the ceremony. Unfortunately for me, I had worn a dress with no pockets. Yes, just take a moment...picture this.

I get back up to the house, fifty feet of cord dragging behind me. I had made two stops on the way back up to check for electrical outlets. I stop to talk with the caterer when I hear the music playing. Gosh! I am late. I am always late. It matters not how carefully I plan, I am gonna be late. I expressed my disgust to the caterer and she convince me to walk on around to the front of the house. I did. I had to find Spring, make eye contact with her so that she knew I was there with the light. There were so many people around that I couldn't find her for a while. Remember, I am still carrying all these random things. I find Spring across the yard. She sees me. She mouths something to me, but all I can make out is "behind the tree". I assumed that she wanted me to stand behind the tree. At the time, it made sense to me because I did look like a bag lady holding every one of her worldly possessions all at one time.

Once the ceremony was underway, I inched out from behind the tree. Perhaps, it did look much like I was playing hide and seek with an invisible "seeker", but I wanted to see, too! The preacher, bless his heart, looked like Billy Graham, but he literally sang the words of his message. "Farrriends anda neeighborrs, ona bbehafff of K-riss-topher anda Mall-o-ree...we well-come you here-ra tanighhht" There were gnats flying around my face, my armload was getting a bit heavy, I could smell chicken wings, and then it happened. I saw him, and he was beautiful. In order to really understand this term, I must explain my own personal description of men in general: (Do not laugh at me! All women everywhere know that there is a univeral code that used amoung us to describe men)

"aun-ah": a southern ..more like two small grunts strung together)that is a contraction for no-way. As my darling grandmother used to say, "That man aint ever gonna win a beauty prize."

"cute": this man is definitely not ugly, but he is probably not the kind of man who turns heads on the street. He may or may not have a fun personality, but if he does, it may, in fact, raise him up a knotch on the description guide.

"sexy": this is a term that can be used on a man who falls into any one of the categories. Physical attractive and sexiness are two different things. A man can be ugly, but still carry himself in a way, and interact with others in a way, that shows confidence...sexiness.

"hot": a man who is clearly handsome,so good-looking that he will turn heads on the street; however, in my experience, these guys often know they are good looking and a small amount of time with them sends a woman running for the hills.

"beautiful": this man has a bit of everything. He has one or more physical features that make him stand out in a crowd. He is sexy, AND he is alot of fun.

Now that everyone understands my terminology, I can forge on with my story.

We had to photograph the entire wedding party together and take pictures of the new husband and wife. I had found an outlet for the electric cord, but when i went to plug the stupid thing in the wall, I realized that it was not a three-pronged hole. I didn't think to count the holes in the outlet on my way back from the lodge! We were losing light...fast. Had to find three holes...had to find three holes fast.

Spring, who is always grace under pressure, found an outlet that would work. I could never do her job. I can take the pictures, I can see them in my head and envision how they should look, but i couldn't handle the pressure of 11 bridesmaids, 11 groomsmen, a husband and wife, and their two families. Oh dear god...I would be a nervous wreck.

After I had moved that stinkin' light and the 100 foot cord about 15 times, we finally settled in for the evening on the dance floor. Four kegs and eight cases of wine were flowing freely. Mr. Beautiful was already on the dance floor with a beer in-hand. He was dancing next to this really pretty blonde girl, who had been standing next to him during the ceremony. I figured that he was with her, but I could still watch him from the shadows, couldn't I?

At one point, I was up on the back porch, where I met my new friend, Viola. Viola was a waiter and she loved to dance. At the age of fifty-one, she showed me how to get down "low". If I remember correctly, I had finished my third glass of wine. All my friends out there who know me well, also know my personal mantra. Regardless of the type of alcohol, "Three is too many".

I was sitting in a chair on the side of the dance floor. Spring was beside me. We were watching all of these people have so much fun. Actually, we were just waiting until the bride and groom left, so that Spring could take pictures of that. I saw Mr. B walking toward me. He was alone. I motioned for him to come to me. He bent down beside me and I whispered into his ear, "you are beautiful". As I spoke to him, my hands just got a mind of their own. I truly didn't mean to slide my hand across his jaw line and down his neck, but i couldn't help myself. I mean, it was simply my humanitarian responsiblity to let the man know that he was beautiful. It didn't matter that he was there with somebody else.

Later, Spring told me that she dropped her face into her hands when she saw my hand on his face. She thought: oh, no, I just wanna take my pictures and go home, now I am gonna have to help my friend who is sure to get in a fight over this.

Surprise! No fights. He stood back up,held out his hand, and asked me to dance.Because Viola had taught me to get down low, I had no problems with this man. It was the kind of dancing that would have been much better suited in a different place and position...know what i'm sayin??

I learned that the pretty girl was his cousin and she had ridden with him to the wedding. I learned that he was 24, played football at Troy, lived on lake martin and had a job in Montgomery.

While we danced, I kept my composure and my hormones in check, even though the wine kept me from being able to stand completely upright. The only problem was my hands. I had no control. None. My right hand was in his and my left hand was on his shoulder blade, but soon, they began to wander...sort of like a blind man uses his sense of touch to see! At one point, I had my eyes closed, enjoying the music, and my imaginary "view". Mr. B said, "Don't go to sleep on me, now." Honey...he had no idea, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. I mean, I couldn't stand up straight, and he had to be really careful when he twirled me around and back again,(that really brought on the dizziness), but beside those tiny little barriers, I was good to go.

Then, it happened. I know you have been there. In your mind, you are cool, poised, and collected, but your physical body is saying and doing things that it really shouldn't be doing. You have somehow convinced yourself that you have everything it takes to handle any situation. I know you've been there...don't lie to me!

The music stopped and Mr B asked me to go to his truck with him to get a beer out of the cooler. At this point, I felt it best to have a conversation with myself. "Awwww shit! Whatcha gonna now big girl...been talking smack, been gettin ya freak on the dance floor...now whatcha gonna do?"

I think I said out loud the next thing that the little voice inside my head asked of me. "Are you gonna kiss me?"

He responded, "I hope so."

The conversation with myself continues: "You know this man has been drinking. You know that there are 101 places on this plantation to get busy if the need arises (no pun intended). You know that if you go to that truck, you will start something that you can not finish without regret. OK..you can't do it. You won't do it."

I looked at Mr. B and said:"You do realize that if I go to that truck with you that a kiss is all you'll get."

"whatever you say, ma'am." He too called me ma'am, but this time there was something sexy about it.

He took my hand and led me off the dance floor and into the dark night. He had his arm slung casually around my shoulder, and I held on to his waist. We hadn't even made it halfway to the truck. He stopped in the middle of the old dirt road, grabbed me up sort of like that sexy Frenchman in the movie Unfaithful, and he kissed me like he wanted me - to hell with all the people who were watching.

For several moments, I couldn't remember my name. I did well, though. I mentally counted to ten. When i got to ten, I pushed away from him. Seriously, I'd had too much wine, and that was the only way that I figured I could keep from ending up in the back of that pick up truck.

It worked beautifully. We continued to dance for the rest of the evening. I even got kisses periodically, although, I had to practice restraint while we were on the dance floor.

He put my number in his phone. He will probably be straining to remember how it got there very soon. However, for one short evening, he showed me a good time, and me feel like a college girl again. He kissed really good, too. I mean...one of the best ever.