It’s been a very long two-weeks-or-so of Army wife initiation, tulle tutus, and angry spray tans, but I’m alive. And still slightly orange. And I’m ignoring the government shutdown, because I heard if you’re cornered by a bear in the woods all you need to do to survive is stand still and it won’t see you.
As all weddings are, mine was a whirlwind. I’m still coming down from all the bourbon cocktails and dress blues, and from the realization that I spent two hundred dollars on light-pink ribbon dancers that are now in a trashcan somewhere in Maryland. Which I think is the ultimate sign of a successful wedding.
Before the ribbon dancers ended up in the garbage, however, I filled at least two trashcans with cider-soaked, sparkling pink tulle. Cue the bachelorette party.
There are a lot of good reasons to have your wedding in September, but one of my most important was that September is Maryland Renaissance Festival season. And the Maryland Renaissance Festival was the perfect setting for the ye olde bachelorette party of my dreams.
I’ve made a pretty big fuss about the Maryland Renaissance Festival both in my life and on this blog (the number one internet search term for this site is still “renaissance festival cleavage,” which means I’ve already accomplished a lifetime of goals at 26). And if my bachelorette party did anything, it proved that all that fuss was well placed.
Though the party, like the wedding a week later, was also a whirlwind of wine and merriment, we made sure to hit the festival essentials:
The photo ops.
The old friends.
The new friends.
And the fun-bags. That’s a euphemism for boobs.
Oh, and I almost forgot: the pickles.
Stay tuned for more about my big fat Jewish Army wedding. Spoiler alert: Somebody got wedding cake smashed in his or her face and it wasn’t me.