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This Times story about a wedding expo, which emphasizes that the very fact you’re paying for a wedding often carries with it a premium price, reminds me that, in spite of the oddity of it, I am glad we got married the way we did. We met our curmudgeonly, atheist minister in a St. Louis sculpture park. While friends hummed “Kum Bah Yah,” he ushered us down a path and onto a pyramid, brandished a knife, said a few things, then cemented us together for all of geologic time. Then, ridiculously, we went to a German restaurant for dinner. It was sweaty, silly, exhausting at the time, and in retrospect, fun. I sometimes regret we didn’t ask my best friend and pastor in Iowa City to officiate; K sometimes regrets we weren’t more formal about it all for our families’ sakes; but on the whole it turned out okay and allowed us to worry most about the really hardest part of coupling: learning to live together.

Also see Feministe or Ezra Klein, who I often think is a manifestation of pure wonkishness. (via Chris Hayes)



B and I have decided to have a very low key affair. This is due in no small part to the fact that in Turkey the man’s family pays for the wedding, whereas the woman’s family pays in America. What this translates to is me personally paying for it. Fortunately, B isn’t one of those types of girls who dreamed about her “perfect day.”

$29,000 for the average wedding?!? Forget it!

Your wedding sounded charming, and memorable. 10x better than your standard priest-in-a-church-and-300-of-your-closest-friends wedding.

I think we were all too sweaty to be charmed, but the fact that certain of the people who came were already drunk COUGHmomCOUGH by the time we arrived made it interesting.

I applaud the planned smallness of your affair. When’s it going down, anyway? Soon, right? In Turkey?

As soon as B finishes her Phd. This will hopefully happen in a year or so. It will be either in Turkey or England. Probably Turkey.

For some reason I thought you were looking at this year…

Are Turkish weddings fun?

As far as I know, the bride and groom sit at a table facing the audience, and a state official sits between them, makes a small speech, presents them with a document to sign, and goes on his merry way. The bride, groom, and their families and guests go off to a restaurant or hotel ballroom, where they eat, drink, and dance until the wee hours. The dancing is more a communal sort, rather than the pairs of men and women type dancing.

I think this custom originated along with modern secular state. There is also a religious marriage ceremony that involves an imam, and such. It is not legally binding. Most modern Turkish families forgo this ceremony altogether. B’s family is one of these.

That sounds like a lot of fun. I regret that we Americans don’t have communal dancing everytime I goto Oktoberfest and wistfully watch the lederhosen’d doing the chickendance.

Of course, the best part about Greg and KL’s wedding, for those of us who were not there, was hearing about it from those who were. Representative conversation:

Laura: Where’ve you been the past few days?
Friend: In Arkansas.
Laura: ?
Friend: Oh yeah, Greg and Kathy got married.
Laura: ?!?
Friend: Yeah—a lot of people said, “We didn’t even know they were dating!”

At least tell it right: It was Missouri! Nobody went to Arkansas! That would’ve been ridiculous…

Oh, well, one of those states south of Iowa. My apologies—I should know better, especially after the sculpture park link. It was an entertaining moment, though.