Everything was illuminated.

Mama and Papa Pear decided to get hitched. I thankfully had my camera fixed against my face, the cool metal against my wine induced flush for the night's entirety.

Candy (my boss at Para Mix) got married this weekend to the lovely and dapper Phil. Phil looks incredible in suits; so much so they decided to finally tie the knot after a seven year casual engagement. As her employees and adopted team of daughters, we were psyched for yet another occasion to buy outlandishly expensive 100% silk dresses, wear towering heels and shocking hues of lipstick. They delivered and so did we. It MUST be said that my dear sister Erin took on the inhumane role of wedding planner and blew J Lo a la blockbuster "The Wedding Planner" out of the water. She nailed it. I got to be one of the lucky ones to watch Erin's plans come to fruition the day before the wedding while we set up shop on my parents manicured acreage in the country. A tent was erected, chairs slip covered and sashed, tables set with all the unnecessary cutlery and jazz, goblets buffed, chinese lanterns hung in a giant cluster at the peak of the tent, lights uncoiled and strung about. My family also nailed it. I am always so proud to be a Kroeker especially on days before big events when we just work HARD together, not because we have to, but because we love to.

It was a small wedding. Small enough that the bride and groom could personally thank people individually (giggling into the mic "who will be the lucky one?")-- a concept that I had never even considered as a Mennonite where circus production weddings are the norm. We dined and drank like kings and queens (some of us more than others) and we swayed to old time blues and ran between the illuminated tent and the illuminated gazebo and the illuminated house in the rain. Cigarettes dangled from lips the darker it got and wine glasses were carried by loose fingers stained with orange and red and pink and coral lipstick from messy applications. We were a yard full of laughing people, running around with half-eaten cakes and ladles full of sangria and little burning red dots lighting up the dark night, celebrating two laughing people. We must have looked ridiculous from the road.

The road. Cars filled with families of Doerksen's and maybe some Dueck's and a few Froeses' here or there idled passed our driveway, straining their eyes against the dark of night to make out who the people smoking and dancing like sinners were. Candles weighed down tables and the cheese cakes and cupcakes and truffles weighed down the dessert table and Star Grill weighed down our illuminated bodies. Everything was illuminated, and it was wonderful.

But before the wedding came the Bachelorette party. Seeing as the wedding was the following day, we opted to keep the festivities down to a dull roar and partake in all of our favorite things instead: costumes, a photo shoot chez moi, photobooth pictures at the airport, JJ, McDonalds, and wine. Seven laughing girls met Candy in the village donning various stick on mustaches, ruby red lips and bowler hats. After dragging Candy around town in the same ridiculous get up as our own, we flew to the airport just in time to pick up one of my best ladies JJ arriving just in time for the wedding from Montreal. We stuck a mustache and bowler on her too and took the stairs three by three up to the Photobooth. After pouring sixty some dollars into the photobooth and taking one million strips with Candy, we went to get some McDonalds and returned to my abode to eat and drink wine like gluttons. Sounds stupid, but it was one for the history books.

Enjoy dear ones. I know I enjoyed every moment.