Weddingbee

You guys are too good. I can’t put anything past you, now can I?

A shot of the pineapple ring holder in action, freshly unpacked from moving.

For those of you who guessed E) The Mid-century Modern—you’re wrong, but you have fabulous taste. For those of you who guessed D) The Edible Eclectic—you’re spot-on! I picked up the teensy limoges-esque pineapple box on a trip to North Carolina to visit BIL Pom at his Marine company’s return from Iraq last October. I found it on my very first trip to the infamous Cracker Barrel.

In fact, I have a photo of the very same meal at Cracker Barrel as well - it was my first grits experience.

Mmmm…pecan pancakes and that cheesy Cracker Barrel potato casserole—the table was covered in food!

Enough about cheesy casserole, I promised you a pineapple story. And a pineapple story you shall get. Let’s all head back into the time machine and travel to December of 2005. This is where I use my Wayne and Garth time machine fingers…doodley do…doodley do…doodley do….

Mr. Pomegranate works very hard at his job and at that very moment he was wrapping up a long two-month stint of a software implementation for the entire state of Washington. Stuck in the dead, icy cold in the middle of winter, driving from county office to county office for weeks on end—alone—does not sound like a good time to me. Mr. Pom spent a considerable amount of time keeping in touch with friends and family via the internet.

Ahhh MySpace, my friend and foe, the addictive nature of you makes me weary. Yet, one fine day I received a rather strange email from a random guy:

From: Mr. Pomegranate
Date: Dec 15, 2005
Subject: Misery is a Krispy Creme
Body:

I love Blonde Redhead. Almost as much as I love Brunette Blondehead. Be my friend Miss Pomegranate. I will make all of your Narnia dreams come true…and by that I mean I want to read your blog.

I am sure one of my friends know one of your friends. Close enough right…like, Groomsman Pomegranate #2…he knows everyone…and I willed him into existence.

Anyhow.
-Mr. Pom

Always the charmer. Apparently, he was searching for Blonde Redhead and I had ‘Misery is a Butterfly’ playing on my profile—hence, the message subject. We knew people, who knew each other, so I guess that made talking to a perfect stranger acceptable. To make things short, I eventually added him to my friends list and we began discussing the finer regions of the world’s musical map. There was even a late night phone call one evening—we talked for over an hour while I sat in my car outside of a bar with the heater on full blast (I know, not so green, but the time flies when you’re having fun).

For Christmas, Mr. Pom and I exchanged gifts while he was in Virginia visiting his family—but not the traditional kind of gift. We challenged each other to create a list of our Top 50 Songs of All Time—and make it autobiographical. This was SUCH a challenge, but it remains my most favorite Christmas gift of all time. To this day, I listen to both of our lists often.

Mr. Pomegranate returned from Virginia three days after Christmas to “spend New Year’s Eve with his Sacramento buddies.” I think he came back to meet me—as we set up a date to meet the evening of his flight. Of course, I was no idiot and had planned to come armed with company, in case he was a crazy nut case or 50-year-old pervert. In fact, I came armed with many friends—as we had a group dinner at Buca di Beppo earlier that evening.

Me and my arsenal of bodyguards having dinner at Buca di Beppo the night I met my fiance. My Maid of Honor is the second from the left, Blonde Bridesmaid is third from the right - and I am the furthest to the right.

After dinner, we all headed to a nearby bar where Mr. Pom was waiting nervously for me, drink in hand. He greeted me warmly when we entered the bar, quick to introduce himself to all and shake hands. However, shortly after our initial handshake, Mr. Pom stated, “I got you something, but you’ll have to come with me to get it.

WARNING!! WARNING!!

Fortunately, the walk to Mr. Pom’s car did not lead to danger, yet instead a sweet gift. Literally. He reached into the backseat of his car and pulled out…a pineapple. He bashfully continued to state that the pineapple is a symbol of friendship in Hawaii, and well, any guy could get a girl flowers. And he was not just any guy. Obviously.

At this point, I did think he was a little crazy. I was teased mercilessly by my friends about the pineapple when I returned to the bar with it, as they played Pineapple Hide-and-Seek with me. But Mr. Pom got along fabulously with my friends and this was both a challenging task and rather important to me. My friends are not the shyest of folks as you can see by the shot below. It was a good sign that he was able to roll with my crazy crew.

Blonde Bridesmaid trying to play a round of MOH-pool.

So as you can see, the pineapple played a significant role in our first meeting. Whenever I see the not-so-friendly exterior of the fruit, a smile splays across my face reminding me of the day I met the man I am now going to marry. Now, it protects the ring that symbolizes our future marriage.

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