Poor Stevie

I’m not one of those alien girls who dreamed of getting married when I was little. I didn’t ever pretend to be a bride and I didn’t make my dolls marry. In fact  and I were talking the other day about how we used to have to make our Barbie dolls bone a stuffed Bananas in Pyjamas doll. I used to think he was really masculine and sexy. Anyhoot, as it turns out I’ve really enjoyed the few hours I’ve spent so far planning our engagement party and wedding.

Joel-Michael and I are in the middle of putting together a casual engagement party for our friends and young relatives. I figure I do not want Joel’s family to see me take off my dress and pull it back and forth between my legs while dancing on a table to Daryl Braithwaite’s Horses. I also don’t want to have to get my mum to buy me a kebab before I spew into her cupped hands. So they’re not invited and can just look at my mug shot later.

We have a few little fun ideas but my biggest ask is being able to plug in an iPod so we can dance to the music we like. I’ve just spent a couple of hours looking at function rooms in Sydney pubs and I found it really satisfying to do some investigating. Using advice from the wedding planning guide written by  I ruled out any place that didn’t have their prices online. I also ruled out places that had really bad grammar on their page. So our garage is pretty much the only perfect venue left.

In other exciting wedding news I tried on my first dress today. This is probably the most exciting part of the whole thing for me (aside from all the obligatory love stuff) because I don’t have any set ideas and I love shopping and drooling over magazines for looks to emulate. Also, I’ve never really spent a whole lot of money on one outfit and this is the one occasion I think a splurge is justified.

So yeah, I went into the city for the David Jones sale and found a super cute Marc by Marc Jacobs pale pink/flesh-ish coloured cocktail dress with the most beautiful pleated tulle detailing around the bust and hip. It was half price too. But when I tried it on I noticed a tiny hole in the seam, which I’m sure is fixable but it just kinda spoilt the moment for me. THE PERFECT BRIDE MOMENT. Also, it was a size smaller than I usually wear and I had a montage of all the food I like to eat (burgers, mixed sweets, pizza, beer, wine, burgers, beer) flash crazily across my retinas. I just don’t want to spend the next six months or so not eating what I want to eat and hitting my head against a brick wall every time I have a schooner.  I also saw some horrid rip-offs on other racks that reminded me vaguely of those girls who leave Randwick racecourse with their knickers stuck to their high heels.  Oh, the nightmares. But still, it really was gorgeous and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Now to figure out how to pay for all this on top of a planned overseas jaunt. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll start playing the pokies

On Monday I was unhappily eating Vegemite toast when I heard Joel’s key in the door. I say unhappily eating Vegemite because if I’m going to eat it I’ll only put it on one slice and have something else on the other. It’s too tangy for 8am. But since Joel left for overseas I barely had the will to bathe, let alone go grocery shopping to buy more breakfast stuff. That’s right, I’m pathetic and can’t live without him. Either that or I’m really lazy and unhygienic.

Anyway I got up and gave him such a big hug I was surprised he didn’t need surgery to get his intestines re-inserted. As I left for work he told me to tell him when I’d be home because he had something planned. I figured it would be a chicken stir-fry or the unveiling of a hideous Batman tattoo. But when I got home, later than usual, he’d packed my bag, told me he’d hired a car and we were going somewhere for the night.

By this point, I’d kind of caught on to what was happening. But I wasn’t sure. Joel and I had talked about getting engaged before but had kind of come to the agreement we’d travel first. And when I say we’d “talked” about it, I mean he’d spent years laughing awkwardly whenever I mentioned it and I’d secretly been looking at fun vintage dresses I could get married in.

We arrived in Leura at about 8.30 and it was a cold ghost town. A waitress at a restaurant we tried to get into pointed us towards a Thai place across the road. It was beautiful – empty, with red walls, crisp linen tablecloths and inappropriately loud 80s music, including that “I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me” heartbreaker. I ordered a chicken jungle curry and as soon as it was served, the familiar smell of cat wee went right up my nostrils and punched me in the bile bag. It looked, smelt and tasted exactly like fresh wiz. The J-man was visibly disappointed and apologetic. Almost like he was the culprit.

He had booked us into a beautiful bed and breakfast we had stayed in years ago for an anniversary during uni. After dinner we went back to our cosy room and Joel pulled out a bottle of Chandon. I gasped. But never fear, he said – “It’s duty-free bebe!” So we had a glass and chatted for a while and then decided to have a spa.

I guess I’d prefer my parents not to know I’ve ever been naked, but it’s an essential part of the story. As I eagerly took off my clothes ready to streak through the quadrangle before jumping in the lovely big tub, Joel said “I have something to ask you”. He said I should probably cover up and he gave me some clothes. Then he pulled a giant plastic ring shaped like a tortoise out of his pocket. He popped the question. After first checking he was for real, I immediately said yes. I’d never seen that look on Joel’s face before. He was obviously really nervous and scared and maybe a little overwhelmed. The tortoise was because he’d been so slow to ask me. Moments after, I told him I really didn’t feel any different.

But the next morning I woke up, looked at the back of his little head for the first time as an engaged couple and it really did feel different. Amazing, really.

We got up and slowly wandered the main street of Leura and had breakfast at a cute cafe called The Red Door run by a cheery French woman. I had a bacon and egg baguette with tomato relish and he had French toast and bacon drowned in maple syrup. Then we looked at all his London photos together in the sun. It was a lovely clear morning and felt as if everyone in Leura – except for the junkie who was abusing an old couple – knew we were engaged.

We kept our eye out for a real ring (the plastic one is more of a ‘reserved’ sign), I bought a hair clip made from vintage ribbon and some cute pink floral stationery so I could write to everyone to let them know.

Then we came back to Sydney and did the groceries. I bought some honey.

Here’s the evidence (of the engagement, not the honey. Thems are a whoooole different set of photos).

The best joke of Mary’s wedding day was what the mother of the bride showed up wearing made by Joel.

After the ceremony my aunt Jenny says: Well that all went off without a hitch!
Joel: Yeah, except one big one!

In his handsome manner he managed to sum it up well. Everything was freaking fantastic. The bride was beautiful, the groom’s tie matched the bride’s dress perfectly, the sun was shining, the reception had free wine and beer, the food was amazing and I got semi-sloshed.

But in truth, Mary and Andrew make an amazing couple, they had an amazing wedding and I’m happy to call Drew my broseph

After the deed was done. I thought it was cute that the celebrant had to tell them a few times to move closer because they’d “better get used to it”. See that semi-old dude growing out of Andrew’s head? That’s mah Pa watching every moment – clearly he’s already making sure Andrew’s making good use of  the dowry  we all had to save up  and pay. I think he spent it on a Wii.

This is my mum’s side of the family. Check out my sexy legs. Man, I’m in good shape.

This is my Dave’s side. Note: Julia isn’t there because this side of the family don’t like her.  In fact the reason they’re all laughing is because I just pushed her into the water. My legs look slightly more like a side ofpork here.

Isn’t my mum cute? She made these herself and filled them with sweet sweet candy. It was my idea but do you think I had my name on some kind of gold plaque or anything? Nup, not even a mention in the vows. God!

My mum and dad got all caught up in the moment and mistook the reception for their second honeymoon. The staff at the Woolwich Pier Hotel will never be the same. Neither will the nice set of white platters someone bought the newlyweds as a gift.  Seriously Pops, get a room.

I did have other pictures that had more wedding action than the above few. But I am not uploading them in fear of Photobucket cracking under the pressure of …. uploading photos. And if you don’t don’t like it, Dave’s got something to tell you:

And that was the very first wedding in the Gardiner clan (as in cousins, sisters ‘n’ shit, my parents claim to be married).