The Last Wedding

Once month shy of Lux's 6th birthday and on my last wedding of the year, Ellen finally came to work with me. Years ago, when asked the popular question, "If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?" she responded with, "I don't really take an interest in other people." 

Ellen has lived up to this disinterest and rarely tags along for any outings that aren't based on leisure activities. Her blatant disinterest in your life can often seem offensive but then you remember how far-reaching the concept is and you remember not to take it personally. A few times in my life I have convinced her to run errands with me and it's always great fun. I don't know why she is so resistant.

Hiring Ellen (unpaid of course) for one day proved to be no different. She arrived at my garage 10 minutes early (which greatly juxtaposes Mom's tendency to be 10 minutes late) and helped me heave my floral goodies into our trunks. She was wild-eyed and smily. Most unnerving. We had a 50 minute drive to the venue in our separate cars, so I gave her instructions and then we took off into the world. After a three mile stretch behind a 15mph tractor, bumper to bumper stand still traffic on the Ravenel, two direction reroutes, and the general Mt. Pleasant Friday traffic, we made it to the venue and hour and half later. 

I was certain Ellen would be fuming. I was close to fuming. We pulled up to deliver the bouquets and I jumped out the car to chat with the planner. I was discussing the timeline when I heard a loud bang with a prolonged echo. BAM! AM Am am am mm. I whipped around to find Ellen clinging to a mailbox, an amused wide-eyed look of terror on her face.
"Are you ok?" the photographer asked dryly.
"I slipped on the pine straw!" Ellen declared with suppressed giggles. She had to unwrap her limbs from the mailbox she used to break her fall. The laughter burned in my throat. She and I each let out a few ladylike giggles while the photographer stared with boredom in our direction. We kept it together until the very moment the planner and photographer left to go inside and then we both doubled over and blasted out our cackles for the sake of our health. I suppose to you had to hear the ridiculous sound of the mailbox and see the shock on Ellen's face to really appreciate it but I'll have you know that we laughed about this the entire day. 

If she was grumpy about the traffic, it all dissolved the moment we caught these giggles. We chuckled and guffawed all throughout unloading the cars, setting out candles, fussing with ferns, and counting votives. She was a happy little helper who took a great interest in the venue itself. 

"It's gorgeous here!" she declared. "I want to get married here!"

"You're already married," I reminded her. 

"I know but we never had the party! This place is perfect... would Mom and Dad think I was crazy? How much is this place?"

Towards the end of our day, I began the last piece of my floral puzzle, those pillars up there in the photo. I just needed to adjust the greens and then add some tropical blooms. Around this time, Ellen became concerned about the evening traffic. 

"Come on Laura, we gotta get outta here before traffic, I'm not sitting in that again!"

"This is the last thing on my list. You can go if you want to."

"No no. I'll stay. But hurry up!"

It turns out I am still not immune to the bossy demands of my older sister. I found myself flustered, rushing to jam flowers into place so I could get Ellen out on time. I cut a few corners and snipped stems too short by accident. About 10 minutes later, Ellen couldn't take it and decided to leave. It was great timing. I had nothing else for her to do and I was aaallllmost done. I thanked her for her help and she left. 

Now I could wrap up these details in peace. I finished my floral pillars and put them in place for the ceremony. Now it was time for my final walk-through. I adjusted centerpieces and arranged loose greenery, etc and 20 minutes later, a sweaty and exasperated Ellen burst through the elevator doors. 

"I gave the valet guys the wrong ticket. It took them 10 minutes and they brought up YOUR car! I parked it down the street. It's check-in time so there's people everywhere. It's going to be impossible for your to load up your car." I looked at her and then turned a votive just so. "Are you done yet? I'll help you load the crap into my car and then drive you over to yours."

But I wasn't done yet. But Ellen was now in business mode. No more giggling about the mailbox mishap or taking countless invasive photos of me while I worked. She was not going to sit in the traffic. 

"I can be done in 5 minutes if you help me do this one thing," I said. 

"Man!" she screeched, "What is it?" 

We relocated some potted ferns and then she decided to go find us a cart to load up my boxes. Suits me, I was still primping. Before I knew it, she had procured some kind of rolling trolley, stacked up all of my buckets and boxes, and had the elevator doors open and ready. 

I had two very minor things to check on still, but my fear of Ellen outweighed the fear of a slightly inconvenienced customer, so I did what any sane person would do, and I left the job 1% incomplete and joined Ellen in the elevator. I knew better. 

The valet took 20 minutes to bring her car around. She heaved my supplies into her trunk, abandoned the maintenance trolley in the parking lot, and then sped off towards my car. Her mood had not soured but she was certainly on a mission. She pulled up behind my car and then sat there while I carefully transferred everything into my trunk. 

"Hurry up, man!" she barked from the front seat. 

"This would go faster if you helped me," I said quietly.

"Oh I'm sorry!" She jumped out, grabbed an impressive armful of boxes, threw them into my car, got back behind the wheel and then sped off into the afternoon. 

Somehow, I still think she's a national treasure.