Colorado

I'm in Colorado at the moment gathering material for my novel about a Mennonite wedding. Oops, actually we're here in Delta/Montrose for Paul's nephew Keith's wedding to JoNell Kropf.

Last night we were at the rehearsal and as things were moving slowly I had plenty of time to observe and gather data. We had the groom's brother and his wife who have been married for almost two years and who tell hilarious stories about the catastrophes at their wedding which have an undertone of sadness as well, due to people being people, which I might include in the novel but change people's names of course.

Then we had the groom's parents who flew into Denver, rented a minivan, and headed for here. Two hours away they stopped for supper and Lois the mom dropped the key in her purse. When they returned, they discovered that there was no key in the ring, only a remote control thingy and an empty key ring. Many searches, prayers, phone calls, and action followed. Keith drove two hours to fetch them. The next morning the tow truck guy made the astounding discovery, which no one else had put together, that the remote itself started the engine, and there wasn't supposed to be a key. We wondered why in the world Enterprise Rent-a-car hadn't figured out what was going on. (Quote of the Day: "It's not their fault you're a redneck."--Lois's son Kevin)

Then of course there's the whole Menno-fashion scene, which I find endlessly fascinating for some reason. After a certain age we middle-aged women's clothes all look kind of the same, no matter what church we're from. But the young ladies--ahh, what a gold mine of color and intensity and variety. We have the cape dresses, which means they're from that sort of church, but they are in the brightest colors of large hibiscus prints, which would indicate this sort of that church, the lefter fringe. And there are the intriguing white coverings perched on the backs of heads like they're about to fall off the cliff, while a long string of hair dangles to the chin on the front.

The groom's brother Kevin has no patience with these ceremonies and procedures, and his disgust mounted as the evening wore on. (QOTD: "Let's face it, weddings weren't made for guys.) However, he restrained himself admirably, so much so that people took note: (QOTD: "Kevin's behaving so well today!" --Lois) (QOTD: Yeah, he's behaving better than he did at his own wedding."--Brenda T.)

Ok, after the wedding now.

Keith, the groom, looked completely stressed at the rehearsal, and not much better at the beginning of the wedding. However, his outlook slowly improved over the course of the wedding and reception, and by the end of the day he looked very happy with life.

The bride was lovely and the groom wore brown tennis-shoeish shoes with his tux. Lois reported that Grandma gasped almost as loud when she saw the brown shoes as she did when the ceremony was over and Keith swept JoNell off her feet and carried her down the aisle. Matt loved that last gesture and wants to do the same at his wedding, which means he's in the market for a girl that doesn't weigh more than about two sacks of grass seed, three at the very most.

Paul's sermon was a recycled version of four previous wedding sermons but still good, and he talked slowly enough for the vows, his only faux pas being that he forgot to join the couple's hands. But they are still legally married.

The bridesmaids wore pretty dresses in a color that I'm sure there's a name for, like Sunset Coral, along with very high-heeled brown shoes that they tended to take off before the reception. Paul, who is not into heels, declared that the girls had looked very uncomfortable going up and down the aisle. The bride's sister, JoLynn, overheard some of this and declared that the discomfort of heels is well worth it, because she loves how they look. Paul cannot comprehend this like a female can.

Jenny's dress turned out nicely despite the frustrating start, and she did a great job holding the pretty pen for people to sign the frame at the reception, and carrying the candles to the bridal table to light the unity candle.

Here's the preacher and his daughter. Awwww......

I wanted Matt and Emily to go to the traditional volleyball game after the reception for all the local and visiting youth. I mean, you can't get any more quintessential Mennonite than the volleyball game after a wedding, and what wonderful fodder for a novel. But they didn't want to. I wished I could go, just to observe, but I'm afraid I'd have been a leeeetle out of place, with a 3-year-old dress in Holdeman fabric and no ruffles on my sleeves or hair dangling in my face, and a poof yet.

Well, I'm in danger of losing my internet connection, but one more picture before I close. I have gotten to know Brenda T. from Ohio thanks to her connections with Paul's nephews. Two of her sons sat at our table at the reception, and I thought she really needed to see this photo:

He's roasting a jelly bean.