If any of my readers don’t already have a venue for their wedding (not-yet-engaged friends, this means you), I would like to strongly suggest you consider getting married in a restaurant.
The awesome thing about getting married in a restaurant is you can go have dinner at the place you are getting/were married whenever the hell you want. (You know, as long as you only want to while they are serving dinner.)
Collin took me to the Grand Concourse, our wedding venue, for Valentine’s Day dinner, despite having told me we were going somewhere I’d never been in some kind of misguided attempt at surprising me.
Could he have picked a better place? No. Because on top of really delicious food in a beautiful room, I got to spend the night giddily thinking, “We’re getting married here!” [And halfway through my second manhattan, telling everyone who works there the same.]
I also really like the idea that someday we can take our kids to dinner at the Grand Concourse and tell them about our wedding there. Then again, my parents got married in my grandparents’ living room, which I’ve spent hours and hours and hours in without ever reflecting upon being on the sacred ground of my parents nuptials. I suspect my trip down memory lane at the Grand Concourse will just make my kids roll their eyes, groan “Shut up, Mom!” and then sullenly push a crab cake around on their plate while staring at the floor.
But they’ll be bratting it up that where their parents got married. Isn’t that just a lovely thought?