tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32550829257468295462024-02-08T02:27:25.743-08:00The People PartyIn no particular order. Certainly not in chronological, anyway. Photos come from various family members and friends. If you want your side better represented, send them to me email.pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-7433285137243075372006-11-25T17:37:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:41:01.639-08:00Posting the "Perfect Pics"<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">We sorted through several sets of photos. Then I put the representative ones in a folder titled "E&G's Wedding. Then I culled one more time, putting the best in the folder called "perfect pics."</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;"><br />These are not Pulitzer Prize winners. The production values are not the highest. They were not framed to exact specifications. Some could not be rescued, even with PhotoShop.<br /><br />But taken together, they are the reception for Husband RJ and me. It's confusing; the party is now a blur to us. They are limited, because a night-time reception--with candles and mood lighting--does not make great photos. Some are abysmally dark and unfocused, because we were primarily there to party, not to document.<br /><br />Until we sort through the photographer's album, though, these are the best. They are tacked on to the site with the Bakers' snaps. The official ones will be scanned and presented as, I guess, a story.<br /><br />Two weeks' vacation was not enough. Two months' might have given me enough time to prepare, party--and crash--and still recover enough to put together the post. <br /><br />I am still left-over tired (at Thanksgiving time, 2006). Not that I wish I were in my 20's again. But I sure could use the energy.<br /><br />And the holidays begin this week.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#993399;">But it was a <em>Glorious</em> Party!!!</span></strong><br /><br />pb<br /><a href="http://patspond.blogspot.com/">Little Pond</a></span><br /></span>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-56146492959304325012006-11-25T17:32:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:35:56.870-08:00Resting Amidst the Packages and Disarray<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/68390/1%20Prenuptual%20Relaxation.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/326476/1%20Prenuptual%20Relaxation.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>MammaDog off her feet for a few. This was the time to enjoy the lovely gown. All the attendants are moving out of range of the camera, and the grounds of the Fontainebleau are filling with SUV's and Jeeps. This is a peaceful moment that belies the chaos outside as people head for the Lawrence Chapel in the wind and threatening rain.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-63047431767574015562006-11-25T17:30:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:32:26.657-08:00The Bridal Gown<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/483745/12Wedding%20Dressing%20(2).jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/33935/12Wedding%20Dressing%20%282%29.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Now the jitters are beginning to creep in. My precious daughter is almost too nervous to enjoy the moment. Slightly teary, too.</div><div> </div><div>Everyone asked me why I wasn't crying. Commanders In Chief do not cry until after the battle.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-24616380067763557242006-11-25T17:29:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:30:34.353-08:00The Little Blonde from across the Street<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/606176/2%20childhood%20friend.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/447699/2%20childhood%20friend.jpg" border="0" /></a> Jackie's been our neighbor for more than a decade.<br /><br />Another one of my <em>de facto</em> daughters.pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-9501273612779570562006-11-25T17:28:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:29:16.408-08:00Absolutely my favorite shot of the Groomsmen<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/127747/21Pre-Wedding%20Groom%20and%20Groomsmen.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/986443/21Pre-Wedding%20Groom%20and%20Groomsmen.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-54554218684608183252006-11-25T17:27:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:28:23.915-08:00Fall Flowers to a Triple Chocolate Cake<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/214676/3%20pretty%20yummy.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/18635/3%20pretty%20yummy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Need I say more?</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-30187357453531204052006-11-25T17:25:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:27:18.107-08:00Omaha Beach before the Onslaught<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/854295/4%20reception%20area.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/100058/4%20reception%20area.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The Fontainebleau is a beautiful place for a wedding.</div><div> </div><div>Tables were set by Sweet N Saucy.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-52286770226365859742006-11-25T17:24:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:25:33.981-08:00MammaDog in Her Glory<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/60265/5%20Emily%20at%20Reception.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/996871/5%20Emily%20at%20Reception.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-57240720175717172042006-11-25T17:20:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:23:02.445-08:00A Program Note:<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/422168/6%20Emily%20and%20Randy%20Dancing%202.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/266407/6%20Emily%20and%20Randy%20Dancing%202.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>None of the traditional music was used in this wedding and reception. Emily chose cello music for the ceremony and an eclectic mix of modern, jazz and swing for the reception.</div><div> </div><div>It worked out well. Only later did I realize there was no Hokey Pokey or Chicken Dance. The kids do things there own way.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-77905422014963214502006-11-25T17:18:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:19:29.323-08:00And You're Daddy's Little Girl.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/709398/61ather%20and%20bride%202.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/839145/61ather%20and%20bride%202.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>The Bride and her father, Husband RJ. Childhood friend, and the next Bride to Be, Jackie, in red with camera.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-84486852411443868182006-11-25T17:16:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:17:56.496-08:00When Did This Young Man Grow So Tall?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/746669/7Geoff,%20Doreen%20Dancing.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/482428/7Geoff%2C%20Doreen%20Dancing.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Sunrise, sunset.</div><div> </div><div>Groom and his mother, Dorey.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-51218921704978492882006-11-25T17:14:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:16:38.281-08:00Two and One Half Generations<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/947904/8%20gens%202%20and%20a%20half.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/573790/8%20gens%202%20and%20a%20half.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Baby Boomer in the middle.</div><div> </div><div>Generation X at right.</div><div> </div><div>What do they call our kids? What does that make the VeggiGirl?</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-49149274797945458662006-11-25T17:13:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:14:44.577-08:00No Cramming Allowed!<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/698325/9%20Stuffing%20Wedding%20Cake.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/293143/9%20Stuffing%20Wedding%20Cake.jpg" border="0" /></a> The kids were forewarned that we would not tolerate the cake smearing nonsense we've seen elsewhere. It would be a crime to desecrate this triple chocolate cake!<br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-24146480361098632522006-11-25T17:11:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:12:58.429-08:00My Inlaws<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/105096/91sisters%20in%20la.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/713285/91sisters%20in%20la.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Husband RJ's brother Alan and Lady Friend Betsy.</div><div> </div><div>Love them to pieces!</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-19407406808130022202006-11-25T17:09:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:10:56.693-08:00Where Emily gets her looks.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/339611/92bride%20and%20grandma.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/552809/92bride%20and%20grandma.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>She doesn't look like me.</div><div> </div><div>She looks like Carol. See the nose, lips and eyes.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-54682688403626951042006-11-25T17:07:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:09:22.033-08:00When the Bakers Party, Everyone Dances<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/917443/93closeup%20of%20grandparents.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/494358/93closeup%20of%20grandparents.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Led by the Cecile and Stephen Baker.</div><div> </div><div>My parents still dance all the time.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-44616375126907613102006-11-25T17:06:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:07:25.291-08:00New InLaws<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/999301/94Doreen,%20Emily,%20Gary.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/939250/94Doreen%2C%20Emily%2C%20Gary.jpg" border="0" /></a> The Bride between the Mother of the Groom and her Gentleman Friend.<br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-27074164152492572142006-11-25T17:04:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:06:08.086-08:00Old Friends, New Family!<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/449182/95Emily,%20Geoff%20Jr.,%20Geoff%20Sr.,%20Miranda.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/983368/95Emily%2C%20Geoff%20Jr.%2C%20Geoff%20Sr.%2C%20Miranda.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>A photo of the Posts.</div><div> </div><div>MammaDog, PoppaDog, Geoff Sr. and Miranda.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-36809163607792872222006-11-25T17:02:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:04:25.355-08:00Couple meet the extended family.<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/512463/96Geoff%20and%20Emily%20Visit%20Bakers%20at%20Reception.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/103694/96Geoff%20and%20Emily%20Visit%20Bakers%20at%20Reception.jpg" border="0" /></a> Actually, the bride met all these people years ago, but we live in two different states. This wedding is the first coming together of Upstate New York and Massachusetts in about five or six years.<br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-78533110491905164112006-11-25T17:00:00.000-08:002006-11-25T17:02:18.869-08:00New Relatives?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/982643/97groom%20mother%20lineup.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/57540/97groom%20mother%20lineup.jpg" border="0" /></a> Dorey, the mother of the groom, and her escort and parents. All very nice people. We look forward to cookouts in Da Glow with them next summer.<br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-74100571480175535142006-11-25T16:57:00.000-08:002006-11-25T16:59:54.258-08:00Husband RJ calls this the Pickpockets Convention<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/945630/98conga%20line.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/737494/98conga%20line.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>But it was a Conga Line. Somehow, Veggie Girl got drafted as the leader, despite her protests. Everyone we passed was dragged in, until the whole room was full of this dancing line.</div><div> </div><div>One literally had to be sitting in a corner to escape.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-32869229258182080752006-11-25T16:55:00.000-08:002006-11-25T16:56:52.756-08:00A very strange dance--the jackets and shoes<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/104029/99strange%20dance%20the%20jackets.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/327603/99strange%20dance%20the%20jackets.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>One of those get-to-know each other things. Everyone switched suit coats, shoes, partners, and so on.</div><div> </div><div>That's my SIL Debra in the foreground.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-17590942729457367832006-11-25T16:51:00.000-08:002006-11-25T16:54:42.565-08:00GolferGirl Kris, pb, SIL Sharon, and BabySister Pam<img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/742376/zzKris%20Reuland%2C%20Pat%2C%20Sharon%2C%20Pamela.jpg" border="0" />From here on, the photos are mostly a mixture taken of my family and friends. We partied some 5-6 hours, eating, drinking and dancing. Lots of visiting.<br /><div></div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-40368629608414651982006-11-18T14:50:00.000-08:002006-11-18T14:56:11.798-08:00What's wrong with this picture?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/21639/enter%20the%20parents.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/236858/enter%20the%20parents.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Dressed to kill, and looking like death. I don't know why I'm so unhappy-looking here. Actually I don't much remember even coming in at this time. Any of the staged stuff annoyed me. And everyone else, I guess. We wound up eliminating stuff as we went along. I highly recommend doing that. If it gets too stagy, kill it. If it's too difficult, eliminate it, and everyone will thank you. The one thing I keep hearing from well-wishers is a big thank you for eliminating the reception line. It didn't happen on purpose, it just happened. The kids are pros at throwing a party and they simply rolled with the punches. And like most weddings, there were plenty of punches. The following pictures are presented in no particular order.</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3255082925746829546.post-31599283386892959472006-11-18T14:49:00.000-08:002006-11-18T14:50:28.283-08:00Three of the Baker Boys<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/1600/387986/steve%20matt%20jim.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6378/397348989959329/320/863883/steve%20matt%20jim.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Stephen Peter, Matthew John, and James Harry</div>pbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11568681879593734160noreply@blogger.com0