Lauren reminds me, frequently, that I have been bad by not posting links to Annelee and Craig's professional wedding photos. They are at collages.net. Under View an Event, use Username Annelee and Craig, password 8608. They'll be up till Christmas. Enjoy!

The Worst Thing About a Doctor Daughter

The worst thing about a doctor daughter, especially an OB/GYN doctor daughter, is that she knows how this whole baby-making thing works, so she's not likely to come home with a honeymoon surprise. Pooh.

Watch This Space

Eventually the photographer will have lovely, professional photos for us view. When that happens, I'll post the URL here. In the meantime, here are some lovely, unprofessional photos for your viewing enjoyment.

Annelee and the girls:


Craig and the boys:


Annelee's sisters, Lauren and Kitty:


Annelee and Craig:

Beauty, Joy, Serenity

Is it possible to have a nicer wedding? I think not. Perfect ceremony, perfect day, perfect weekend.

The memories are forming from fragments: Annelee and Craig sitting side by side, beaming joy. Annelee tearing up under yards of veil. Perfect weather for the wedding in an otherwise wet and unseasonably cold weekend. Grandma's toast: "Have two boys and a girl." Grandpa to Craig: "Atta boy!" The littlest guests plucking flowers from the arrangments. Country Roads. A shower of rose petals. Craig kissing Julie good-bye.

Thank you all for coming and for being gracious as I tripped over your names and had to ask them over and over again. I know that the new Mr. and Mrs. Eakes thank you too.

Empty Checkbook + Lots of Smiling = The Wedding's Almost Here

I cannot wait. You would think that with all the last-minute details I'm going nuts, but you would be wrong. Somehow it's gotten easier since all the big decisions have been made. It feels like Christmas. There's never enough time to plan as thoroughly as you'd like, but whether you're ready or not, the day comes. And it's always fun.

That's what I feel like this will be: fun, fun, and more fun. Our families are coming! Sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Our friends are coming! Old friends, new friends, work friends, neighbors. Lots of hugs and kisses and cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Annelee and Craig making their vows, and us getting verklempt. Little fingermarks run through the frosting on the wedding cake. Teenagers trying to sneak a drink. Laughing because something is going wrong. Laughing because so much is going absolutely right.

I keep thinking of Yeats: How but in custom and ceremony are innocence and beauty born?

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

That being the case, here's a picture of what the groom's cake will look like:


Pretty pretty, eh?

Not the Wimpy Loser Cake

So I'm sitting down with Craig and Annelee to plan the wedding and I'm running through the list: What kind of reception do you want? What kind of music? Should we serve dinner? And I ask Craig if he wants a groom's cake and he says, "A what?" And Annelee and I explain, and he says, "Well sure, I'll have one. As long as it's not the wimpy loser cake."

So now, to glorify the groom's cake — which too often does seem like the wimpy loser cake next to the bride's confection — we've planned an entire event around it. The Friday evening gathering has been billed as a "dessert social," but it's really a champagne and chocolate extravaganza with the groom's cake as the centerpiece.

If anyone is sitting on the fence about attending the Friday evening fete, I recommend jumping off the fence onto the side of "I'll be there with bells on." But only if you like chocolate, and champagne, and harp music, and good company.

The Missing Stamp

It's troublesome to finish addressing, stuffing, and sealing 124 envelopes to find that you've used 124 58-cent stamps (for the outer envelopes) but only 123 41-cent stamps (for the inner envelopes). It means that someone on the guest list will receive an unstamped return envelope, and may wonder if I'm poor, ignorant, or sloppy—or maybe all three.

I should pretend that the missing stamp was planned and the recipient of the unstamped envelope will receive a special wedding door prize. I should put my pinky up, toss back my head, look down my nose, and ask, in my snootiest Southern-belle accent, "Don't you know that door prizes are being given at awlll the must-attend weddings this season? Where haave you been?"

If I were just a tad more stylish, I might be able to pull it off. But there's not a stylish (or snooty) bone in my body. Friends of the bride—that "most likely to wear pearls and heels in the OR," "Ann Taylor is the mother ship" fashionista—may be surprised to learn that the mother of the bride dresses like a cross between aging
"peace, love, and anti-materialism" hippie and axe-toting mountain-woman. Think Renée Zellweger in Cold Mountain, with tie-dye.

So I'll admit it. The answers to the wonderings in the first paragraph are yes, yes, and yes—and, sometimes, yes again. I'm poorer than I'd like to be, aware of my ignorance, and, when it comes to carefully pasting on 124 stamps, sloppy enough to miss one. There's no door prize for receiving the unstamped envelope, but if I find out who I cheated, I will buy you a beer.

Gift Registries

A gift is, by definition, voluntary.
~Emily Post

If you wish to give Annelee and Craig a wedding gift, they are registered at the following stores:

Bed Bath & Beyond
http://www.bedbathandbeyond.com/regHome.asp
Williams-Sonoma
http://www.williams-sonoma.com/registry/findregistry.cfm
Molto Bella Ceramica
https://www.mbceramica.com/index.asp
412-682-1277

Please know, however, that the greatest gift you can give them is to hold them in the light and wish them well.

Get Me to the Church on Time . . . or, There Are No Accurate Maps of Morgantown

There really are no accurate maps of Morgantown. Not one. Not any. We learned that 20+ years ago when we moved here, and, even with the internet, the situation hasn't improved.

Which isn't to say you won't be able to get around, because we're sort of pinned in by the Cheat River and the Monongahela River and the Mason-Dixon line. But getting from here to there could be . . . well, interesting. If you finally give up and ask directions, a local will start by asking, "Do you know where this is?" And you'll say, "No, I've never been here before." And they'll ask, "Well, do you know where that is?" And you'll repeat, "No, I've never been here before." And then they'll ask, "Do you know where this used to be?" And you'll wonder if everyone in this state is deaf, or if they just can't believe you've never had the pleasure of visiting West By God Virginia.

We speak like this because street signs are nearly worthless in a town where the roads follow hills and ridges and hollows and streams. They merge, then split off. They change names three times in a mile. They disappear only to reappear a mile down the road. So let's start with maps, or rather links to maps.

The wedding will be a St. John's, 1481 University Avenue, in Morgantown. This is the Google map of the location, and this is the Mapquest map. Waterfront Place Hotel, where we're having the dessert social on Friday evening, is at Two Waterfront Place, in Morgantown. This is the Google map for that, and this is the Mapquest map.

Now comes the fun part. Don't ask either Google or Mapquest how to get from the hotel to the church, because they will both direct you the wrong way down a one-way street. See? No accurate maps of Morgantown.

In this post I'll give you two sets of directions. First, how to get to Waterfront Place Hotel coming from I-79:

1. Whether going north or south on I-79, take exit 152 and head east, toward Morgantown.
2. Follow that road (Holland Avenue or 19) for a couple of miles as it winds through the town of Westover and finally crosses the Monongahela River into Morgantown.
3. At the light at the end of the bridge, turn right onto Don Knotts Boulevard (also called South University Avenue or 119).
4. Take Don Knotts Boulevard for about a half mile, until you see Waterfront Place Hotel on the right.

Now, how to get from Waterfront Place Hotel to St. John's without going the wrong way down a one-way street:

1. As you leave Waterfront Place, turn left onto Don Knotts Boulevard.
2. Follow Don Knotts for almost a mile, through several lights and our little downtown, until it bears to the left. Don't worry if you look up at a street sign and see that Don Knotts has turned into University Avenue or Monongahela Boulevard. It does that.
3. Just after the road bears to the left, turn right into a parking lot behind the church. Right now the parking lot is mostly gravel. It may be paved by May 10th, but don't count on it. We're not uppity about our parking lots in this neck of the woods.

Enough for now. I'm afraid if I don't hush I'll scare away all you flatlanders.

Hotels and Mean Cats

The invitations came yesterday, and in them I promise all kinds of helpful information: Directions, hotel information, and more at http://anneleeandcraig.blogspot.com! Maybe the exclamation point isn't actually on the invitation, but I feel it there, punctuating my inability to make more than snail-ish progress in planning this extravaganza.

Since I did promise to be helpful, and since May 10th will come whether I'm ready or not, here is hotel information for our out-of-town guests.

A block of rooms has been reserved at Waterfront Place Hotel. That's also the location of the dessert social on Friday evening, so it will easy to check in, then walk downstairs to the dessert. The price per room (one king bed or two doubles) is $99/night if you make your reservation by April 11 and tell them you're part of the "Boyle-Eakes Wedding Block." If you're a member of AAA, show your card when you check in and the rate may be even lower. The phone number for Waterfront Place is 304-296-1700 and their website, with map and directions, is here.

Much to my chagrin, Waterfront Place Hotel is only ranked #6 in popularity among Morgantown hotels by Trip Advisor. Since I've never stayed in a Morgantown hotel, and can't give you a personal review, I'll pass along Trip Advisor's rankings. Their website is here, and the highest ranked hotels are these:

1. SpringHill Suites, website here.
2. Residence Inn, website here.
3. Euro Suites Hotel, website here.
4. Clarion Hotel Morgan, website here.
5. Holiday Inn Express, website here.

I hope everyone is able to find something that fits their budget and taste.

On a completely different note, Annelee's cat Cassiopeia, aka Pia, aka The Meanest Cat Of All Time, is ailing. Which is sad, no matter how poor her personality (Pia's, not Annelee's). Annelee has had her for 8 years—through most of college and all of medical school—and Pia was about 3 years old when Annelee got her, so she's lived a long, full, pampered life. But it's hard on Annelee to see her suffering and will be harder still to see her go. Somewhere I'm sure we have a picture of this devil masquerading as a cat, and when I find it, I'll post it, so you too can be misled by the dainty calico's demure countenance. And maybe you'll hold a kind thought for her, as I'm sure you will for Annelee.

Introducing ... The Eakes(es)!

And now I have the pleasure of introducing the Eakes family.

Annelee's bridegroom is the charming Craig Eakes. It's fortunate that they met through friends, because Annelee had already noticed him jogging through the neighborhood and liked the looks of him enough to regress in age at least a decade and gush to me about this rillycuteboy. Perhaps she wouldn't have invented an excuse to meet him, embarassing herself in the process, but it's not certain. They met in North Carolina in February 2006, became engaged a year later, and last summer moved to Pittsburgh where Craig is now in a law student at the University of Pittsburgh.

Craig's parents are David and Julie Eakes, shown here at Dirty Dick's Crab House in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where the Boyle and Eakes families vacationed together last May:

I'd like to say that we spent our week at the beach discussing Important Issues and sharing Big Ideas, but the truth is that we read fluffy novels, played silly games, soaked up the sun, ate too much, rested thoroughly, and had a grand time altogether.

Craig has one sibling, younger brother Kevin, shown here with Annelee's sister Lauren, digging into mad good desserts at Dirty Dick's:

With 12 people in one beach house, I didn't get to spend a lot of time with Kevin. But I did learn that he was a history major in college, is a self-taught musician, and has endeared himself to Beatles fans everywhere by learning to play the sitar. I think he even has a sitar. He didn't bring it to the beach, but I wish he had.

Like Annelee's paternal grandparents, Craig's grandparents — Garner and Mary Lee Eakes, and John and Jean Dean — are deceased, but their presence at the wedding will be felt. Julie graciously offered to loan her mother's engagement ring to Annelee as "something old," and Annelee accepted with joy. Since the symbolism of "something old" is continuity, what could possibly be better? Heartfelt thanks, Julie.

Introducing ... The Boyles!

So here's a question: How many weddings have you been to where you knew one of the happy couple really well, or fairly well, or at least vaguely, because s/he was your best friend, co-worker, or second cousin once removed, but you didn't know the other half of the happy couple at all? Personally, I've been there too many times. So this post, and the next, are meant to solve that problem. Today I introduce . . . The Boyles! And tomorrow . . . The Eakes! (Or should that be the Eakeses? Oh heck.)

The blushing bride is Annelee Crunchy (not a typo) Boyle. Contrary to what she may say when she's trying to embarass her parents, we did not name her Crunchy because we did a lot of drugs in the 60s. Annelee is named, first, after my Swiss grandmother, Anne Susanne, who was called Annelee (or Anneli or Annely) when she was a child; and, second, after my sister Crunchy. As for why the original Crunchy is named Crunchy, my parents did too many drugs in the 40s.

Annelee is an M.D. who is in her first year of residency in OB/Gyn in Pittsburgh. She and Craig may tell you they met "through friends," but that's only part of the story. They met through friends at a nightclub, a bar, the kind of dive where the smoke carries away the dreams of the crumpled suits on the stools and the dames' make-up melts into their lined faces. Or maybe not. But it was a bar, and that's the important thing. Because it gives me endless ammunition for teasing.

But enough talk. Time for photos, so you'll recognize some of the folks who walk down the aisle.

I love this picture. It was taken in our front yard before a West Virginia University (WVU) football came in September 2006. (Let's goooooooooooo Mountaineers!!) On the far left is Annelee's youngest sister, Kitty (or Katie or Kathryn). Kitty is an ungrateful 24-year-old who chose to attend graduate school as far away from her parents as she possibly could. She started physical therapy school in Scotland last month, and I miss her so much it's physical. WVU fans will notice her Grant Wiley (#6) jersey. Next to Kitty is middle sister Lauren. Twenty-five-year-old Lauren just completed a masters degree in chemistry at the University of Wisconsin and hopes to start pharmacy school at WVU in the fall. Yes, that's a Steve Slaton (#10) jersey. In the center is one of Kitty's best friends, Seyran, but I call her Fifth Daughter (and I'm her Second Mother). Seyran is a graduate student in engineering at Virginia Tech. She won't be in the wedding, but she'll be at the wedding, adding to the general gaiety. Next to Seyran are Annelee and Craig — Annelee left and Craig right, should you need to be told.

Now this giddy couple is my husband and myself, the sainted Father of the Bride (FoB) and dreaded Mother of the Bride (MoB). Jerry and I both work for the U.S. Department of Energy, he as a research chemist and I as a public affairs specialist, where we provide an enviable return on the taxpayers' investment. Yes, we're fat and old, but not as old as . . .

Annelee's grandparents (my parents), Ray and Nancy Cramer. My father is a retired college administrator, and my mother is a retired teacher. They lived most of their married life in California, but moved to West Virginia to live with us several years ago. The handsome young man in the middle is our exchange son, José Andrés Caballero Uribe, from Colombia, who lived with us in 2004 and obviously never figured out how to change the date stamp on his camera. José is studying architecture in Cali, Colombia, and says he probably won't be able to come to the wedding, which is as sad as it is understandable.

We also have two exchange daughters. The photo on the left is Mariana (Maina) Santinoni, whom I fondly call Myna-bird when I'm not calling her Duckling. She's pictured somewhere in Europe with her boyfriend, Jan, from Czech Republic. Maina is originally from Argentina, but after meeting Jan in 2000–01, when they were both exchange students in West Virginia, she moved to Czech Republic where she attended college and is now in graduate school. I don't know if she'll make it to the wedding or not. She'll probably claim she can't afford it, and I'll claim she doesn't love me. I could win.

Finally, the beautiful young girl on the right is Mirella Miravet Hagroos, from Sweden, who lived with us for several months in 2006–07. Mirella is still in high school and probably will come to the wedding. Which will help make it joyous indeed.

To recap: Annelee, the bride, has two real sisters — Lauren (25) and Kitty (24) — an exchange brother, José (21), and two exchange sisters, Maina (24) and Mirella (18). MoB is Renie, FoB is Jerry. Maternal grandparents, who will be at the wedding, are Ray and Nancy Cramer. Paternal grandparents, who are deceased but will surely be there in spirit, are Eddie and Cecilia Boyle.

There may be a test.

Ninety-Eight Days and Counting

Ninety-eight days until the big day and almost nothing is done. I'd be worried except that my husband (the sainted Father of the Bride) helped me put everything in perspective: marriage is a sacrament, everything else is props.

So when the flowers don't arrive, the candles catch Annelee's dress on fire, the sprinklers turn on, soaking everyone through, and we all retreat to the reception hall with wet, squishy shoes to discover that our food is cold, remember: props, they're all props.