Lady Luck

It is widely known that every little girl dreams about her wedding, visions float through her head of white tulle and large chapels with huge bunches of flowers at every pew....... wait. I never dreamed about my wedding. Nope, never did that. I dreamed about professions, being a teacher or even a cafe owner for Daisy's Dinner (another story involving a play kitchen). Sometimes about being a mommy, but I rarely carried around a baby doll and pretended to feed it. It wasn't until later, when boys stopped having coodies that I even began to imagine the falling in love part and even then those visions never turned to rice-throwing, family gathering affairs. I assume it was similar with my sister, because although we never discussed our dream nuptials, when it came her turn to walk down an aisle of sorts I'm pretty sure she never imagined it this way.

The story begins with a flashback to last December... after being trapped by a freak blizzard at grandma's house for several days, my sister and her boyfriend finally got the car out of the drive, through the tracks that functioned as the street for the next few weeks and headed off on their visiting rounds. Before they went out together, Bill took the car to run a few errands and was gone longer than expected. Upon returning he found an extremely impatient and unhappy Stephanie. After being berated for his tardiness they hopped in the car and started off to see the other grandmother. While driving through Arvada, Steph continued her tyrad and demanded to know where Bill had gone for so long. Finally unable to disemble longer, Bill confessed that he had been to a jewelry store to pick up her Christmas present. Tossing it to her he said “Here's your present." Opening up the little box she found... da da DA! - an engagement ring.

Utterly flabbergasted by this, Stephanie sat speechlessly and listened as Bill described his perfect engagement scenario. He had not only gone to the jewelry store but also picked up a picnic blanket and some other goodies for the road and was prepared to drive up to the snow-encased mountains, lay down the blanket, kneel upon it and hold out the ring to his blushing bride-to-be. He imagined her glowing face as the sun glinted off the diamond and their sheer joy as they promised each other to meld their lives together forever. Instead he got a hot-under-the-collar, screaming banshee of a fiance but at least she was his banshee. (N.B. I love my sister dearly, and will probably get noogied on the head for this description if not worse, but if you've ever met Stephanie Dyer on a bad day you know I'm not exaggerating here.) After the excitement and humor of the engagement wore off, the family was left to wonder anxiously about the big day. Where would it be? Most importantly, when would be? Finally, without anyone aware of it (except of course the family matriarch – grandma) the deal was sealed.

On a bright spring day in early March in Alaska the biggest event of the year took place! And what wedding ceremony would be complete without taking part in the American epitome of tenacity and determination – the Iditarod?

More information on The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race -
usually just called the "Iditarod", is an annual sled dog race in Alaska, where mushers and teams of dogs cover about 1,151 miles (1,853 km) in eight to fifteen days. The Iditarod began in 1973 as an event to test the best sled dog mushers and teams, evolving into the highly competitive race it is today. The current fastest winning time record was set in 2002 by Martin Buser with a time of 8 days, 22 hours, 46 minutes, and 2 seconds. [Wikipedia®]

Back to the prodigal sister... after watching the start of the Iditarod, Stephanie, Bill and a small contingent of friends journeyed to an old mine-turned-resort. The owner of this chunk of the Last Frontier has created a quaint mix of private cabins amongst the now defunct mining structures. After playing around like the children they are, the modest wedding party consisting of a friend-photographer, two witnesses and a friend-officiate begin the rather impromptu sacrament.

Monica, my sister's good friend from Mexico (yes, there is surprisingly a large diaspora of Mexicans in Alaska, don't ask me how they stand the cold) conducted the ceremony. In Alaska, each citizen is allowed to officiate one wedding. Probably because there is only about 1000 people in the whole state and each of them has ten acres to themselves, so finding priests and minsters can be problematic when you're ready to tie the knot. Monica rose gracefully to the challenge and braved the cold for her friend's special day.

After a quick, frozen service the bridal couple and companions retired to the Dr. Suess-like cabins for the reception and everyone's favorite time-honored tradition, the cake.

The hidden truth.. having told grandma the secret plan to run to the hills and get wed, my resourceful little granny jumped right on the internet, found the mine/resort they would be nuptualizing at and called up the place to make some special arrangements for the reception, including lucious chocolate-covered strawberries, the own champange flutes and cake. With her Alaskan co-conspirators, my grandma still managed to make her presence felt even 3000 miles away. Way to go granny!

As you can tell for this fairy tale story, they do things a little differently there, in Alaska. Brides wear 3 layers of clothing and a woolen hat rather than sleeveless white silk. And the grooms, plaid and muclucks. If you need further proof of the off-the-wall wedding decor, just check out the cake.











As our story comes to a close, we part with one last thought....

May joy and peace surround you both, contentment latch your door, and happiness be with you now and forever more.

A little makeover

Trying something new with the blog. Still a work in progess, but if you have comments or suggestions on the new looks let me know!