We loved our ceremony and we love you!!! We were so right to choose you for this special event!!

Now in this photo, it might look like I have the pleasure of being sandwiched between two very hot guys.  But actually, I’m sandwiched between one hot guy who just happens to be split into two people.

Meet Mikey and Kian, who were considerate enough to come to Vermont to get married in my living room.

Apparently, they have such an enormous number of coincidental traits (birth time, Western and Chinese astrological signs, numerological numbers, preference for an obscure brand of silky Lithuanian underwear) that they’ve come to the conclusion that they’re basically the same person.

What they didn’t realize was that actually, Mikey and I are pretty much the same person.  And yes, I know, he’s a big, hunky, gay, bald guy.  So that’s a little distracting.  But don’t get sidetracked by the details.

When it came time for their ceremony, Mikey whipped out his iPad and started playing the song If by David Gates and Bread.  You know: If a picture paints a thousand words, then why can’t I paint you…

It stopped me in my tracks the way a very large object dropped on your head from a very great height would also prevent any further forward perambulation. It also hit me with a serious heart-throbby flashback.

When I was in junior high, I LOVED this song with a devoted passion only found in terminally romantic 13 year-old girls.  Not only that, but it was one of the few pieces (apart from Für Elise and Chopsticks) that I learned to play on the piano.  As you might imagine, I played it A LOT.  And, like a lovelorn lounge singer, always dedicated it to Dave LeDoux – the 6’2″ 9th grader who stole my 4’9″ 7th grade heart.

Years do pass, though, and from the moment I went to high school, both Dave and the song completely vanished from my life and mind.  While much of the music from the 80s has regurgitated itself into popular culture – thanks in part to the adorable presence of Martha Quinn on the Sirius Satellite Network – I’d never heard the plaintive tones of Mr. Gates and his theramin-scented musical confection anywhere.  Ever.  Much less given Dave LeDoux any further mental real estate.

Until Mikey and his iPad walked into my life.

While this might sound strange for someone who makes her living performing weddings, I’m not normally a terribly sentimental person, and certainly not nostalgic.  But in an instant, there I was, back at Cedar Park Junior High.

It’s the night of the Fall Dance, and due to our massive height difference, Dave LeDoux has gotten down on his knees to slow dance with me to If.

It was a heroically romantic (albeit physically painful) gesture, which as you might imagine, set the bar a little high for any other hormonally poisoned adolescent males I happened to encounter at the time.  Not to mention any other hormonally poisoned regular males I’ve encountered since.

I know now that while Dave’s knees recovered pretty quickly, my heart, apparently, never did.

This one’s for you Dave – wherever you are!

“That was an absolutely beautiful wedding and your lovely officientness made it all the better. We decided that we should stay in touch!”

Tabby and Helena (pronounced Hel-EE-nah) (my third instinct after HEL-ena and Hel-LAY-nah) got married at the stunning Park McCollough House, a 35-room Victorian mansion in North Bennington, Vermont.  A bit of a haul for me, but worth it, as it was an exquisitely beautiful fall day, and perfect for some cross-country leaf-peeping.

When I arrived, the gals were getting dressed in separate quarters as various aubergine-clad bridesbabes ran last-minute errands.  I checked in with both of them, saw that all was copaesthetic, and went to head out to the gardens where the ceremony would take place.

Suddenly, I got a shout-out from one of the attending women, who was running towards me with a pillar candle.  “They’re lighting a unity candle!  Can you stick this somewhere?”

I hadn’t known they were lighting a unity candle, there wasn’t a place to put it in the garden (other than the ground), and I didn’t have any prepared candle-lighting text.

However, we here at Vermont Wedding Officiant are nothing if not improvisational.  I ran into the public bathroom at Park McCollough, and found a little white wicker side table stacked with tourist magazines – which quickly ended up on the floor, as the table exunted to the garden with me.

Then I ran out to my car.  It happens that Tabby and Helena’s wedding was the first of three that day, and the third ceremony DID have a candle-lighting as part of the proceedings.  So I grabbed that page, tossed it into the folder the the rest of Tabby and Helena’s ceremony and we were good to go.

I should add that Helena gets extra props for both bravery and total commitment.  As she was delivering her vows to Tabby, someone from the Assembled Group called out to her that she had a wasp on her back.  Quoth Helena, “I don’t care.”  She was like a totally dedicated postal worker.  Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, nor scary stinging insect could keep her from her appointed vows.

I have a feeling that Tabby’s in very good hands.

David and Chris, having been together just five months, got themselves married in a treehouse today.

We were going to do it down by the water at the famous and beloved Oakledge Park, but while the sun was out, the gale force winds blowing off the lake made the idea of a quiet little ceremony almost impossible.

Fortunately, there is a magical octagonal treehouse at one end of the park which was blissfully out of the blustery breeze.

Now, at this point, it’s time for True Confessions.  I am, as all who know me will attest, a wildly creative individual.  And this makes the writing and performing of wedding ceremonies a deeply inventive and joyous experience.

Unfortunately, I also have a mind like a sieve, and cannot remember simple facts to save my life.  In particular, I have, as my yoga students will attest, a rough time remembering names.  I’m good at remembering to ask peoples’ names, I just always forget to remember them.  And even when I think I know them, I often don’t trust myself at first, and will often avoid using someone’s name for fear of embarrassing myself.

In a heterosexual wedding ceremony, this isn’t a problem, because I have the couples’ names written right in front of me, and I can fairly easily figure out who’s Jane and who’s John.  But with a same-sex couple, I have to be very, very conscious about coming up with little mnemonics so that I don’t lose track of identities.

Today, though, I was a little distracted by the wind, and the fact that my friend Jennifer Kiewit, who I hadn’t seen in a while, was taking pictures.  And I completely forgot who was Dave and who was Chris.

But I didn’t realize I forgot until we were already well into the ceremony.  Not an elegant time to stop and re-do the introductions.  On the outside, I was reading a sweet and moving treatise on love.  On the inside, I was thinking, “Crappity crap crap crap!”

Then, I realized I had an escape hatch.  There’s a section in the ceremony where I address each guy directly – as in:

Chris, only you have the power to marry this man – your best friend and partner, who stands beside you.  Do you now wish to have David as your husband, knowing him as you do?

So I figured I could just make it a little more formal.  Looking at the wedding text, so as not to give away the fact that I didn’t know to whom I was speaking, I said:

Chris.  Please step forward.

And he did.  Problem solved.

I’m not proud of this.  Really, I’m not.  And as these charming guys exchanged vows, I vowed to myself not to let this happen again.  But I will say that there are times when having a background in theater and improv can come in very, very handy…

P.S. Chris completely cracked me up before the ceremony when he said, “I never thought I’d get married.  Two guys getting married?  That’s just so gay!”