Crunch time

I am in a surreal black hole, and time has stopped.
For some strange reason, my friends are standing around me in dresses and tuxes, and my family is seated in an ampitheater facing me. The wind is strong but I feel none of it. I am holding some silk flowers from Michael's and standing in 3 inch heels.
On top of a mountain.
I'm in a long white dress and a veil, and the man I live, fight, cook, sleep, bitch, drive, and do everything else with is in front of me.
And I'm about to say my vows.
For some reason, I feel no hesitation. I'm not terrified, nervous, reluctant or regretful. I am euphoric and peaceful, with the energy level of Hammy from Over the Hedge. I have never felt such a foreign mix of emotions before.
Now my dad is letting go of my hand, and placing it in Abe's. The reverend is grinning and nodding in slow motion. I imagine there are whispers behind me, but I hear nothing. All of Yosemite is unfolded before me, but all I can see are the three people next to me. I am weightless; suspended in my own world.

"....give her away?" the reverend trailed. "Her mother and I do," said my father decisively, with a solemn note in his voice. I am snapped back into reality, and suddenly everything begins to move very, very fast.
A John Muir quote that seemed long when we organized the ceremony flew past my ears, and we were into the rehearsed vows. What felt like 30 seconds later, it was time for me to say my personal ones.
Now I was nervous. I did my best to not rush through them, to raise my voice so my guests could hear me. I stumbled over a word or two and remembered on the last sentence to stop reading and make eye contact with my groom. He gave me a smile that betrayed his own emotions, and they seemed to mirror mine. Once again, we were communicating without words. It gave me a sense of determination; that this was right.

His eyes searched mine intensely before he began to read his own. Did he write that? No, it sounded too old and proverbial.....that sounded like his wording.... Thoughts raced through my brain pointlessly. The vows were far beyond my expectations. I could only wrinkle my forehead in loving appreciation as I listened.

The reverend was back in front of us, and the best man was holding a heart-shaped box with the wooden ring I had purchased for Abe that was three sizes too large, and my own. Fingers slid against palms and promises were made while spheres of commitment found their homes on our hands. Abe kissed my hand; a surprising move that was incredibly sweet.


Then an Apache blessing:
Now you will feel no rain
For each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now each of you will feel no cold
For each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no loneliness for you
For each of you will be companion to the other.
Now you are two persons
But there is one life before you.
Go now to your dwelling place to enter into the days of your togetherness
And may your days be good and long upon the earth.

"In My Life" began to fill the air, and I realized it was over. My groom was kissing his bride, and suddenly I could hear the sound of endless shutters clicking behind us. My new husband grabbed my hand with an iron grip, and we walked behind a nearby boulder.

We embraced wordlessly for what felt like an hour, but I could not tell you how long. Static energy coursed between us. What was there to say? I could find no words. Eventually we parted slightly, sliding our arms against each other to find each others' hands without losing eye contat. We laughed maniacally, and one of us finally mustered the vocals to say, "we did it!" Our voices found, we began a rush of awe; "Isn't this place amazing?" We finally had a spare second to notice the breathtaking vistas before us. We laughed some more; stared into each others' eyes more. We embraced again. Had it been possible, we probably would have absorbed each other out of existence right then and there.
But, there was a reverend next to us, ushering us back to the ceremony site, telling us it was time for pictures. Thus the moment had been punctuated; so we reluctantly walked back in to a standing, beaming crowd of loved ones.

We posed, mingled, and posed. A much-loved latecomer approached, upset that she had missed the ceremony. As I could only feel joy at that moment, I hugged her and told her the truth: that she was there, and that was what mattered. The reality was that I was shocked anyone had come; all but one family had to endure a plane ride from various destinations (from as far as Switzerland), only to have to rent a car from the airport and drive four hours to their hotel at the destination. On the wedding day, they had to drive two hours to be at the ceremony at 10:30 AM, and then they had to drive two hours back to get to our reception in the evening. To have five guests willing to endure this for a wedding would have been impressive; to have over twenty was amazing.




What ensued felt like a three-stooges scramble. Dozens of cameras clicked away. Which one do we look at? Get in this pose. Get in that pose. Go over by this group of people. Now, that group of people. McClain family only; Hudepohls only. The siblings, the nephews, the third generation. Grandparents and uncles. Groupings were formed and parted, formed and parted, like fluid waves washing around us. My veil was adjusted; my dress straightened; my hair carefully arranged. I was picked up and put down; hoisted and tugged; leaned and posed. I was instructed, called, greeted, and hugged. Kissed, cried on, and handed papers. In the midst of the whirlwind, I even wrote a check out to the reverend, because the pre-written one had been lost. I was in happy chaos.
Now, at this point, the family was dispersing for their own photos once they got their camera's fill of the bride and groom; and this left openings for the multitudes of tourist onlookers to make their moves. I was aware from the moment of the ceremony that I was being photographed by strangers; and I dawned on the realization that I was being videotaped by strangers, too. At this point, I am told a foreign couple (my guess is Japanese) made their way down the stone ampitheater steps and directly in front of us. Immediately upon securing their prominent front-and-center position, they boldly went the straightforward route and asked us to pose for them. We were so high on the moment that we actually obliged. I think I would have posed for a chipmunk with a camera at that point. To their credit, they took their one photo and had no more requests; although whether they proceeded to take more pictures, I'll never know.
The photographers eventually ebbed and we had a chance to make our way up to the Geology Hut for - my favorite - more photos! This time solely with our officially-unofficial photographer, one of my best friends. It was more relaxed, and we had a chance to really gaze out and take in the views for more than one continuous minute.
I made my way down to a boulder, leaned against a dead tree, and gave my groom a heart attack wanting a photo op of myself "on the edge." I told him he always had to respect me from now on; I was doing this in 3-inch heels. And that made me kind of a badass.

After this, we were both done. It was well past time for a break. My thoughtful parents had premade brown-bagged lunches. It was time to claim ours. As we walked toward the car, we were entangled in a net of "congratulations" and small-talk with unknown well-wishers, putting distance between myself and that revered sandwich.
We finally made it. My mom presented me with one of the most beautiful sights that day: a brown bag with "Jodi & Abe" written on it. They had even thought to put ours together.
We snatched it and practically ran, looking for a picnic area. After about five minutes of looking, we realized we were not the type to bother with such niceties. So we headed into the woods in our wedding gear, and found a large, flat rock. My groom cleared it of pine needles and debris with the utmost care to preserve my dress, and I sat down. We shared a bottle of water and talked happily as we ate sandwiches and apples together. Had we been wearing anything else, it could have been a picnic lunch like any other, on any other day.


This moment of peace and tranquility was utterly priceless to me. Only our photographer knew where we were, and that's only because she has a keen eye and a good sense of where we would go. Also, she had been following us all day...
Soon, we would be in a car and heading to the valley for more wedding-clad adventures, but that will have to wait until next time....

Hudepohl territory

It's about time I updated this damn thing that i so loftily started at the busiest time in my life.
Well, I took the leap, and landed safely at the pinnacle of my existence thus far.
I'm shakily reading my vows to my now-husband in the photo above. As one of my best friends in the world said in her toast to us; "Here's to getting married on a mountaintop!"
I woke up at 5 AM on the wedding day and spent the next three hours applying makeup, curling irons, and various bedazzlements to what had become a mannequinn's body that I no longer owned. Three layers of face paint, over two hours of hair curling, and one body shaper later, we were well on our way to the ceremony.

It was a mountain drive and my maid of honor nearly shit herself as we whizzed by logging trucks and roving RV's on the two-lane road to reach our destination "in time." We were an hour behind. Apparently, I have more hair to curl than I gave myself credit for.
We finally reached the park entrance and asked for the "bridal discount," to attempt to weasel out of the $20 entrance fee. The masculinely-clad, grayish old park ranger woman gave me one look up and down. Here I was, made up as a bride all the way down to the veil, but wearing a shabby tank top and sweats so that I could change into the dress at the last minute without wrinkling it. Her eyes flicked toward the backseat where my dress was hanging.
She raised one eyebrow. "Are you coming back through this way?" We nodded eagerly. She jerked her head to one side, indicating us to go through, and us passenger peasants rejoiced.
There was some panic on my part. Okay, a lot of panic, but I tried to keep it internal so as not to utterly destroy my bridesmaids' nerves. Are we on the right road? Which way are we headed? North? Northeast? Oh god, we're on the wrong road.
Of course, we never were. I stared at my GPS obsessively, as though it would sprout arms and legs and scream, "FIFTEEN POINT SEVEN MINUTES LEFT, MILADY!" In an manner exacting enough to please a flustered bridezilla.
It didn't, but it did hold my attention until we arrived. Along the way I vaguely remember "Alejandro" playing on the radio, and my bridesmaids squealing with surprise at the sight of Yosemite which pleased me to no end - even the less outdoorsy of my friends could appreciate why I wanted to come here.
After what felt like an eternity, we were in the Glacier Point parking lot. I would later realize this was my calm before the storm. I grabbed a basket full of wedding shit and passed it off to my maid of honor, giving her instructions for each item. She ran off to do my bidding complaint-free, bless her, and we all found the "restroom" we would be changing in.
It was a port-a-potty. Not the kind in a tall blue stall standing alone, but even worse. The kind that is there permanently, and so are its contents. To put it bluntly, I had to lie my clothes onto the floor to stand on to spare my dress, and the entire time it smelled like shit. No less than thirty seconds later, there is angry pounding on the door. "HURRY UP, JACKASS!" I peered my head out, IN A WEDDING DRESS, and told them it would be one moment, and we were just changing. To which they all responded with groans, curses, and general mutiny.

Now, for a brief moment here I seriously considered walking out in my full regalia, sporting three-and-a-half inch heels, and telling them exactly what I thought. "I have been planning this for a year. A YEAR! What have you done? I bet you just decided to mosey on up here today! And guess what? Over half of you have dicks! You're outside! Go piss on a fucking tree and leave me the hell alone, because God knows you don't want to see the wrath that can become a bride on her wedding day! God help you if you so much as utter a rude word to me! I will drive these heels through your fucking eye socket until your bladder is the last thing you're worried about! Would you like that? Huh? Well, would you? Keep talking if you would. Please, really. I would LOVE to show you I'm not kidding."
But instead, I took a deep breath, and asked myself if I wanted to remember myself on my wedding day as a crazed, combative redneck or a graceful woman with an iota of decorum. God damnit. Decorum it is. I don't need to be a viral internet video example of Brides Gone Wild.
But, I must admit, I relished in taking a little longer than was necessary after that. It was worth smelling the festering pool of human waste that much longer. It was worth every second. As we walked out, my bridesmaids looking beautiful with their matching ribbons around their waists and pink rose bouquets, and myself as good as I was ever going to look, I sashayed a bit, and gave them all a warm, happy grin as they all kinda just stared, not sure what to say. Most of them were campers. In hiking boots. Their expressions betrayed their surprise at seeing anything remotely involving a wedding in that kind of place.
Fuck 'em.
I saw my dad walking down the path towards us and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god THAT was over with. He broke into what can only be described as a proud grin and gave me a hug. "You have a lot of people waiting for you!" He declared, ushering me in the right direction. He was right; we were nearly an hour late, and my sweetly patient guests were already sunburning.
As we walked toward my "altar," the reverend intercepted us. "Now, you're going to want to walk around this side. It's more dramatic and you won't have to navigate those steps over there. Your dad is going to walk you in, and when I say the word he's going to literally give your hand to Abraham. After that...." He trailed on with a litany of instructions that whirled around in my brain like a fog that wouldn't settle.
To make it worse, the entire time we were walking toward the viewpoint, and his words were nothing but vapor to me once I saw the view before which we would be tying the knot. I had never seen it in person before. It awed me. Was it even real? I had no time to be sure, because now I was approaching the groomsmen, and they were all hugging, congratulating, and hitting on me. "Last chance! We can get in my car and go right now," said one. Another one fake-kissed me. The third made a similar proposition to run away with me. They all looked incredible. I told them I could eat them up, and was incredibly proud when they didn't turn it into a sexual joke right in front of my dad. They grow up so fast.
Suddenly, everyone was in pairs and my hand-picked piano instrumental of "Here Comes the Sun" was playing. They began their march. My heart began to pound like the port-a-potty door just moments ago. If it hadn't been so windy, I would have been sweating.
I held my dad's hand, took a deep breath, and looked at him. For my entire life I had wondered what this moment would feel like. Calm and serenity was the last thing I expected. But it's what I felt. It felt right. Somehow, I didn't cry, and neither did he. It was simply too happy a moment.
Canon in D was playing now. Shit. I put one foot in front of the other, and my guests watched as I appeared from behind a twenty-foot boulder in front of the view of all of Yosemite valley. Oh god. I just realized that they aren't the only ones watching. I ducked my head, as if I were going to somehow magically hide. This was one hell of a choice for a wedding venue for a pair of introverts.

Up until now I had been too busy to notice the dozens of tourists videotaping and photographing me, as though I were a bear in my natural habitat, or a mule deer munching on vegetation. I had expected this, but had somehow forgotten about it. But when I looked up at my guests sitting on the stone ampitheater steps, my eyes kept moving upward to confirm that my event was a bit of a spectacle. More on this later...
I blinked, and I was in front of the reverend, staring into my fiancee's eyes. I felt like I had consumed no less than eighteen cups of coffee, and I had the shakes to prove it. This wedding business was intense.
To be continued...