Sparkling Stones

by Kate

I lost the diamond from my engagement ring. There was a loose prong and, I think, a long stranded sweater involved. Returning from a dinner party I brushed my ring finger and gasped to discover only the sharp spikes of the setting, the stone long gone. It was an interesting moment of soul searching, there in the car in the early darkness of late winter. I knew that the diamond was gone, and that another would not be forthcoming. I couldn’t imagine wanting one. We have so many dreams for our young family- a bicycle carriage, a bigger home, an old piano to put in it. I’ve never dreamed of diamonds.

I didn’t miss the diamond that night. What I missed was the wild exhilaration of the young pizza delivery driver who worked at a little Italian hole in the wall in Pittsburgh and courted a girl far away in the mountains of North Carolina.

By chance, we were passing by the pizza shop in question when I discovered the gaping hole in my engagement ring, the ring that he had purchased on that spot after putting out the word that he was looking for a diamond. A legless obese man who passed most of his time in the shop scratched his head a bit and mentioned that he had a divorced daughter who had a no need for her beautiful ring, but did need some cash. Soon, the deal was done. On a high ridge overlooking the Ohio river, that young delivery driver asked for my hand. When I accepted, he put the ring on it.

The moments of our courtship and engagement were enchanted, and I am grateful for every second, but what I realized that night was that losing the ring didn’t mean losing any of those memories. I still have them all, along with the thin gold band that my husband put on my finger four years ago today, when I became his wife.

The engagement ring was beautiful. The diamond was shaped like a teardrop, which sadly suited the storms of tears that I am prone to on a regular basis. The setting was high and the ring was pointed and oh, it was sharp. So was I. I was a headstrong, highstrung newlywed with a sharp tongue and a chip on my shoulder. I hope and believe that in the past four years, I have become softer, smoother, gentler, and stronger- just like my plain gold wedding band. Wearing it alone reminds me of what I want to be as a wife.

Deep life lessons aside, just this week I made a fantastic discovery. Shopping with my sister Clare in Pittsburgh’s Strip District, we came upon a case of faux engagement rings for the fantastic price of five dollars a piece. Suddenly it hit me. Losing my engagement stone gave me free rein to wear any size and style of engagement ring I wanted. I walked out of that shop looking like a MUCH more affluent woman.

I love simplicity, and I love costume jewelry. I love pretending I am a high society lady at the entirely UNpretentious public pool up the street.

Most of all I love my husband, who is still wild, and still exhilarating. Thanks for the ring- but much more than that, thanks for the marriage.

Taking the Leap

by Kate

Three years ago, I married a mariachi.

That is, I married a half Mexican schoolteacher in a custom made Mariachi suit, on a windy Wisconsin ridgetop, in the church across the road from Sweet Ridge Farm.

I wore my Grandmother’s vintage satin wedding dress and my mother’s veil.

My mother had worn this wedding dress as well. I had been dreaming of wearing this dress since I was a little girl, and was thrilled to carry on a tradition in the third generation.I am guessing that my grandmother wore very high heels when she was married in this dress.

The day was full of blooming peonies in the beautiful bouquets designed and created by my sister Mary…

and the air was full of rose petals.

The celebration on my brother’s organic dairy farm was exuberant, as was famous moment in which the hoop skirted bridesmaids in ballgowns climbed the silo.

Granted, the hoop skirts did have to be left behind for this stunt to work.

A moment which, to be honest, horrified my brand new big city raised husband, who was gesturing with all his might for me to climb back down, preferably in a ladylike manner. I did come down….. eventually.

It was a gorgeous day for grand sweeping gestures and great romance and castles (or silos) in the sky.

Three years later, our feet are on the ground, and our life is taking root here in a city far from the rolling ridgetops where I was raised. I am less a blushing bride and shaped more like a vast ship at sail at sea….

but our married life is deeper, and (mostly!) smoother, and overall much easier than it was in the whirlwind of wedding and moving and getting to know each other and settling in to new roles and a new joint life. Happy Third Anniversary to my husband! Thanks for putting on that mariachi suit, and letting me leap down off the silo and into this new life.

There are lots more posts about our weddings here:

Our Red Dirt Royal Wedding

Red Dirt Wedding Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

How I Became a Slattery- A Love Story

Before We Dance

Petticoat Junction

A Saturday Away

By Clare

Yesterday I made the spur-of-the-moment decision to head down to Iowa for a relative’s wedding. I figured it would be more interesting than staying at home all day with only three other people wandering around the house, helpless without Mom to make food. Plus, I’d have to do the cooking with her gone, and when is that ever good? So I threw on some dressy clothing, made myself presentable for a special occasion, and we were off. That is, after everyone was found, all the vegetables to be delivered along the way were shoved into the van along with Grandma’s heavy suitcases (we were dropping her off at her aunt’s on the way back), and we were all uncomfortable enough for it to qualify as a Slattery roadtrip. After dropping off the vegetables, we all settled in a little better, and braced ourselves for three more hours in the car. We eventually made it to the 1 o’clock wedding (on time too!) and were escorted into the small church.

We arrived at the reception hall with some time to kill before the dinner, so Mary and I wandered off to stretch our legs. Mary had a lot of leg showing to stretch, wearing a dress that Mom deemed immodest (it’s really not that bad, just a horrible choice for a traveling outfit).

Still, she tromped across the grass in her heels, while I ran ahead in my smart footwear choice of gold sandals, courtesy of Colleen’s “clothes left behind before moving to Dallas for college”. Upon seeing a pond in the near distance I immediately ran ahead. I’m naturally attracted to water, while Mary thinks its something like the devil’s spit. Crazy woman. Squatting down by the water, a frog jumped and caught me by surprise.

Mary, remembering fairy stories where the princess kisses the frog and the frog turns into a prince out of the blue (woohoo), decided if she kissed it the same would happen to her.

Don’t worry, she didn’t end up kissing it. She’s too squeamish. We did have a little impromptu photoshoot though. It gave some entertainment to the golfers watching nearby. I took a picture of them, just to get back at them, but it’s not that interesting. Golfers, generally aren’t that interesting, are they? With the exception of Tiger Woods’ scandal of course. Again, this is just another one of my opinions.

We headed back to the reception hall where I stayed for several more hours surrounded in a moody cloud. There was no one my age there.  I realized that the building was perfectly equipped for six-year-old me to run around with James, Colleen, and Raph and make all kinds of mischief. But instead, I was left all by myself, grown up, bored out of my mind, when, if I had been younger, I would have been in heaven. I had to drink the free pop all by  myself, without the entertainment of seeing James and Raph down 10 cans or so until they felt like throwing up. Dad did provide momentary entertainment (and embarrassment) when he started doling out our homegrown garlic on the tables as decorations and for people to take home.

I did do a lot of people-watching, and found that Iowans like country music even more than Wisconsinites. We eventually left. After a long, long, long time. The ride home was long too, but thanks to Cale’s phone, I was able to text the dearly missed sister of mine, Colleen.

Until next time, when I stare deeply into more people’s souls, give them cold, moody looks, and form critical words in my head,

Clare

How I Became a Slattery- A Love Story

by Aurora E. Slattery

I am the only Slattery sister who hasn’t written on the blog. Now this could have something to do with the fact that I am married to the eldest Slattery son Gabriel (he was born after Kate).  We have four beautiful children Claire, Adeline, Thaddeus and Antonia that keep me quite occupied.  But the other day my sister in law and best friend Mary happen to “mention” that if I wanted to ever contribute to the blog Kate had decided my love story would be perfect (hint taken).  Since my fourth anniversary is fast approaching I’ve decided to begin the tale of how I became a Slattery.

Once upon a time there was a rather unhappy and unwed mother of a one year old, that would be me.  Now the last few years had not been easy and so I must admit to not having the best opinion of men in general.  But sometimes bad decisions can produce good outcomes as we shall see here.  Mary had befriended me a few years earlier, and our older sisters Emily and Kate had been (very dramatic) friends for years. 

Mary had helped me get a job at a little cafe called The Driftless Cafe in my hometown after Claire (my one year old daughter) and I had moved back in with my family.  The Driftless lead to many things, most importantly to me that of friendship and love.  Mary happen to live above the cafe, the year it opened, which lead to me meeting her legendary brothers, Gabe and Rob.

Mary always talked about them and one night in Mary’s apartment I finally got to meet them.  It wasn’t love at first sight but though the summer I figured out that I really liked Gabriel.  There was something about him a delightful twinkling of the eye and kindness I had grown unaccustomed.  However by the end of summer Gabriel was gone and I was back in my bad situation which lead to a second pregnancy which led to me finally realize that God had me destined in a very different path.
After moving back in with my parents in early 2006 and permanently ending a failed relationship I returned to my Catholic roots.  I started to think about Gabriel (Mary and I had already started a joke about how if things didn’t work out with the other guy I could always marry Gabriel).  When summer came round I decided to have Gabriel rebuild some fence at my family’s ranch since he is a carpenter. 

We ended up talking a lot and I realized that I had met a real man who was hardworking, spiritual, intelligent and incredibly good looking.  I must admit to never feeling so magnetized to someone, I felt respected and comforted by his very presence.  One day as my boss Lars ( a very dear friend of our to this day) and I were washing dishes and he blurted out that I should marry Gabe Slattery.  I informed him that Gabriel had a girlfriend and he responded that perhaps the fact I was almost nine months pregnant was more of a problem.  But it wasn’t a problem and neither was the girlfriend  because at Lars’s wedding a few weeks later Gabriel and I were inseparable.  We watched fireworks at the wedding that night. Gabriel put our daughter Claire  up on his shoulders and as I watched them I remember thinking this is what it feels like to have a real family.  We danced, we talked, he drank, I didn’t (very pregnant remember).  I even drove him back to my parents where, we did not even kiss, he slept on the couch. 

After that night I felt so clear about him and knew that I had to trust God and offer up my insecurities ( freshly out of a bad relationship and almost two kids) I felt intuitively that everything would work out.  Soon I became a mother again.  The day Adeline Grace was born somehow most of my future family showed up.  Maybe most importantly my future mother in law Terese who was in the hospital after her mother fell that day and popped in to see me in the maternity ward.  It is a great joy to bring a child into the world even as a single parent and the void of father was somewhat filled by family and friends.  Now things had been brewing between Gabriel and me throughout the summer and other people knew it.  Lars had mentioned to Gabe that he should marry Aurora Menn and Gabriel said it wasn’t a bad idea.  When Adeline was two weeks old the day before Gabriel was leaving to return to Corpus Christi Texas ( a very very long long way from Wisconsin) to finish his last year of college we had our first kiss.  And I think we knew that somethings big was happening because thirteen and a half months later we were married, dairy farming and pregnant…… but that is another story.

A note from the bossy big sister editor Kate: There is more of Aurora and Gabe’s love story to come, including some coverage of their extravagent fairytale wedding. In the meantime, if you are in the mood for more romance, check out our brother Rob’s story here:

The Engagement, Mary’s Letter, Wedding Part One, Wedding Part Two, Wedding Part Three, Wedding Part Four, Nicole’s story

Petticoat Junction

by Kate

Late June is a beautiful time for a barn dance in Wisconsin. Last Saturday evening, the barn was scrubbed clean and hung with lights, and the Slattery girls were wearing flowers in their hair…

 

and beat up cowboy boots on their feet.

Who wears spurs at a square dance, you ask? Well, that would be Mary Brigid. She is a bit prickly every now and then. She’s also the only equestrian Slattery, so the only one of us who owns a pair. Here she is with her beloved Bub.

Nicole and Rob were there, glowing with newlywed bliss.

Rob looked particularly sharp with his bolo tie and big Texas belt buckle.

And Nicole’s white sundress was a perfect bridal barndance combo. Here she is with our neice Adeleine, beneath the towering lilacs on the path to my parent’s big white farmhouse.

Our sister in law Aurora looked gorgeous, as usual. She is the master of pulling together striking and exotic prints and bold jewelry.

It wasn’t just the girls getting gussied up. Even our brother Pat (author of the infamous Parody Post) threw on a cowboy hat and was ready to come out swing….. dancing.

We even managed to get all four Slattery sisters and our two beautiful sister in laws together for 20 seconds- long enough for one big barn door portrait.

And at about that time the rather extraordinary square dance caller from Hawkeye, Iowa showed up and the next part of the story unfolded. It’s quite a tale. Come on back and hear all about it!

Red Dirt Wedding, Part Two

by Mary

At 8:30, my now Sister-In-Law Nicole, picked me up from my hotel room where I was huddled on a bed flirting with sleep after a restless night of insomnia.
Wearing a robe that read “bridesmaid” on the back, I rode with Nicole to the church and started in on getting ready for the big day with Nicole and company.

Much to my relief, my bridesmaids dress that I had lost the night before manifested, and the very kind girlfriend of my brothers friend Nick, took mercy on my horsetail like hair that had been more than a little tangled from riding around Oklahoma City in the bed of Robert’s truck the previous night. Kelly brushed it out for me while I watched Nicole transform into a” Princess Kate, you totally just got outdid” bride.  The new Mrs. Slattery exuded an aura of calm radiance. She looked so gorgeous that I gave her the helpful suggestion for future financial gain. I said that when she and Rob are broke, she can pick up extra income by becoming a bridal magazine model.
 
Look!!! She is so calm that we have no work to do. I literally have my hands in my scapular-lined pockets!
 
Getting ready for the wedding was so organized that I was able to steal off to the church to have a visit with Jesus in my cheery yellow robe. As a veteran bridesmaid, I can compare and contrast bridal stories. After this last one, I shall put it in its very own category as a VERY non-Wisconsin wedding. Don’t worry, I won’t hold you hostage by pulling up a ton of bridesmaid tales. I will just pick one for a case example. I choose Kate’s to share with you all.
 
Wisconsin weddings usually mean crazy, disorganized, excited energy. And work. Lots and lots of work. Often times I end up doing the flowers for weddings as well as cooking and baking. Trust me, I never get the time to float off into the church to pray.
 
Pictures can piece a story together can’t they? Please enjoy viewing some of these pre wedding pics from Kate’s extravaganza. Here are a few of the gals getting the reception meal ready.

Chicken Pickin Bonding
 
We have heart!

At this point, I get even more excited about flowers than normal! Making pies and doing flowers SOLO are my kind of thing!
 
Ok, I give up now, or I will end up posting way to many pictures. The moral of this little post is I am honored and humored to stand as a bridesmaid. Weather I am wearing a yellow Beauty and the Beast dress on top of a silo, or chatting it up with my Maker alone in a quiet church in my yellow robe, I love the excitement and variety of each special day, and am grateful to have such fine friends and Sisters to share life and laughter with.
 
Blessings,
mary

Red Dirt Wedding Part One

by Kate

When we arrived in Oklahoma great gusts of wind were chasing billowing clouds across the sky. Nicole had feared a tornado would snatch her wedding away, but the sky was blue and the sun shining brightly. We had flown into Dallas and had a long hot drive ahead of us. Just after crossing the Oklahoma border we overtook Cale chugging up a hill with the old 4runner packed full of siblings.

That vehicle is a trooper. I crossed the eastern continental divide hundreds of times when I owned it, spun gravel up a dirt road leading to my mountain cabin every day and night. I’m glad he has taken it on. That is a southern vehicle at heart and never took to the cold harsh salty Pittsburgh winters. But I digress. Right now, I bet you are thinking that the only vehicle that you’d like to see is the famous Amish Special, the old 15 passenger van.

Yes, that’s it. Grandma’s right there in the front seat. Who could drive this beast over hill and dale, you ask? Why, my Uncle Roger. Who appears to have been taking sartorial tips from his Amish brethren, particularly regarding hats, glasses, and facial hair.

I will admit here that I rode the van back to the motel from the reception, and I found it to be an unexpectedly peaceful experience. There was a faint sweet scent of alfalfa, a deeper tone that may have at one time been a hint of a cow pie. A hushed silence. All in all it reminded me of a dairy barn early in the morning. Not a bad place to be at all. However, back to the beginning!

We arrived in time for the dress rehearsal. This gave us a chance to check out the church, which was modern but perhaps my favorite modern church architecture in a long time. There was a great foyer with high light arched beams.

And a dynamic statue just asking to be imitated by 95 percent of my siblings.

Pretty stained glass.

A lot of great art, but perhaps the most unique was a full size blackened crucifix. It turns out that the old church burned down, but the crucifix, though charred, remained. It was striking and beautiful.

The night ended with Rob’s white truck heading off into the twilight full of siblings and cousins. It was a beautiful thing.

At this point you may be wondering if there are pictures of the bride and groom featured in this series. Rest assured that there are many glorious pictures to come. Stay tuned for the rest of the series- the wedding! The roses! The Dress and all the dresses and the Jim Beam bottle in the barn at the dance.  Y’all come back soon.

The Ants Go Marching In

Clare

We’re back from the Great Oklahoma Wedding, and as promised I’m making my full report on the trip down and back in the 15-passenger van. We loaded up and started out at about 9:30 on Thursday morning, with all but one place unfilled in the van. I was plunked down in the middle of the very back seat in between my niece Claire and my other niece Adeline. At first they weren’t so bad, but as the trip progressed they soon became restless and made frequent trips back and forth to their mother’s seat. At some points I’d have my nephew Thaddeus and Claire by me, Adeline and Thaddeus, or all the three. Needless to say it wasn’t very comfortable back there for me when I was wedged in between three small, fidgety children.

Soon it came time to pop in a movie in the portable DVD player and get the kids to stay seated. I had been attempting to get my homework done all this time, and was so sick of trying to balance my book on my knees and write down ledgible and sensible answers that I finally gave up and tried to watch the movie. The choice of entertainment turned out to be Barbie Mermaidia. After a bit I just couldn’t take it anymore and turned back to my homework. Someone suggested singing. And so started an upbeat and greatly annoying “The Ants Go Marching In” song to end. I’ll forever hate that song.

After dropping off Peter with relatives in Missouri, we soon arrived in Kansas City, Kansas, where we stayed the night at our aunt and uncle’s house. The next day we got down to business and made it to Oklahoma City in the early afternoon in good time and without too many crying fits. Then followed our own personal Royal Wedding and after all the excitement was done, we started out again on Sunday morning, this time going all the way back home, no splitting the trip. We had to tackle those 14 hours in one Sunday. Whew. I didn’t think it was going to be that bad. The ride up had been almost nice most of the time. But the ride up was… different.

We had added two people to our caravan, brother Gabe and Colleen. Gabe started out in the back seat with Claire and Adeline, and I moved up a seat. But neither of the girls were happy with that. Both wanted to sit with their mom, knowing that Gabe wasn’t going to be easy on them. So early on, we had crying. Not a good sign. Drinks were spilled, bladders almost overflowed, and it seemed it would never end. The trip went on, and on, and on. Night came. People fell asleep, but not me. I don’t usually sleep in cars. Thankfully I was saved by Thaddeus, who was still wide awake and happy at midnight, and was at a dangerous level of cuteness. Showing me how he could “nap his fingers”, and that “akchuawy he’s kind of shy” shed a ray of light in the darkness of that van. At 1:00 A.M we finally made it home with our heads still on and the beautiful memories of a beautiful wedding. Bags were collected, and I walked into the house loving the look of home sweet home.

Our Red Dirt Royal Wedding

by Kate

As the coverage of the royal wedding builds to a fever pitch. the Slattery clan is off and rushing towards Oklahoma City by plane train and automobile for the wedding of our own King Rob.

Granted, his domain was limited to a teenaged life spent alternately dominating the basketball courts and lying in bed eating potato chips while bellowing demands for his slavish younger siblings, who were required to serve him hand and foot in exchange for the privilege of spending time in his presence watching his television, which was the only one in the house.  Nevertheless, Rob has always felt like a king. Luckily for him, those basketball skills came in handy to help him find a queen. While realizing his lifelong dream of playing college basketball, Rob met Nicole.

Nicole is a gorgeous blond Oklahoma girl just shy of six feet tall. She and Rob are a striking sight.

Rob is a carpenter, and last fall he was building a barn behind my parents house.

He was also building a plan to get hitched. Nicole was visiting from Oklahoma and early in the morning he took her to a cabin high on a Wisconsin ridge with sweeping views of the whole wide world.

He brought her coffee, the newspaper, breakfast, a dozen yellow roses….

…and an engagement ring.

King Rob was pretty thrilled to have found a future queen.

Nicole was thrilled too, even though she was quickly drafted into manual labor in the squash field.

Somehow this did not deter her from planning a future life on a ridge top in Wisconsin.

This weekend, Rob and Nicole are getting married in Oklahoma City.Then they can set about creating their own private basketball team.

It promises to be one heck of an adventure. Please pray that there are no tornadoes, and that the Amish passenger van carrying my parents and a scattered assortment of old and young people makes it safely across the great plains. We will tell you all about the festivities, with pictures of course, starting next Monday.

Have a wonderful weekend!

The Slattery Oklahoma Suburb Rush of 2011

On April 22, 1889 the first land run took place in Oklahoma, opening up restricted land in the United States.

In a mad (and sometimes deadly) catastrophic disaster, men women and children would madly rush by or on foot, wagon, train, or sometimes even bicycle through Oklahoma to stake out a claim at a specific location.

On April 30th, 2011 a wedding will take place in the suburbs of Moore. My brother Robert will be marrying his fiancee Nicole, a native of Oklahoma.

Call me crazy, but I sense a similarity between these two events. You see, there are MANY Slattery’s, and only one destination. Last Summer when Kate was home on a family visit, all of us (Cale included), managed to make it down to the Coon Valley park which is approximately a grand total of 10 miles down the road, for a fun evening of grilling, swimming and basketball.The fact that we managed to traverse down several windy hills with food and a basketball was a huge break through for this disorganized, gregarious, Irish family.

When my brother announced his engagement last September I had to keep myself in check and congratulate him before blurting out ” and Leanie (Colleen) and my dog and I are getting to Oklahoma SEPARATELY!!!!

My introverted soul bleeds at the picture I will virtually weave of this OK family bonding trip:

My family is taking a 15 passenger van. My Grandmother who is hard of hearing, has little sight, and is in poor health will be going.

My cousin Gregory and brother James will be aboard. They are both in full fledged guys in midst of teenage adolescence glory.

Christopher is also along for the ride. He is my wonderful cousin with a lively spirit and cerebral palsy.

There are few things Chris loves better then hanging out with James and Greg and matching them in levels of noise and humor.

Peter Drake will be on the Slattery caravan too.

I am wondering how this will work, for the great Drake has yet to make it through a Sunday sermon without hitting up the bathroom in the church basement. His trips to the restroom are as consistent as the transubstantiation. No doubt they will remain as constant on this southern venture.

My brother Gabe has permission from his wife Aurora, to ride with Robert to the wedding, thus meaning that Aurora will be bringing their 4 children along with in the van.

I love my nieces and nephews X 100, but it is much more fun to chase them around their house then to ride in a moving vehicle with them. The “duck guys duck!” game is a traveling system that happens in worst case scenarios for this branch of the family. It involves squealing unbuckled kids taking vanishing cues when a car of question approaches. Aurora has already confided in me that she has a feeling by the time she sees Gabe in Oklahoma, she will hand him over their brood and have no interest in keeping a land claim with him……!

Colleen will be flying into Dallas before the wedding. She will later ride with a few of the UD Slattery boys to Moore. She expressed to me that she thinks that she might die or kill somebody if she were to make the trip with the rest of the Wisconsin pioneers. Apparently, this trip is reaching Donnar Party drama!

On the bright side of things, my father and mother are thrilled to embark on the Slattery caravan adventure. Whenever Dad goes someplace in the spring, he always ends up bringing a black garbage bag with fresh asparagus in it and ice dripping in pools that manage to leak from the hot black plastic. Generally, warm cheese is also stored in a suspicious  bag. Seeing as he is not flying, it’s bound to be less exciting then when he transports this cargo in the airport. Maybe driving will enable him to have the freedom to take a live free-range chicken or two?!? They could roost near James, Christopher and Gregory and cluck and squawk along with those boys.

To tie this post together, I’ll just end by mentioning that on Wednesday, the 27th of April, I am headed to stake out my claim in the Oklahoma suburbs. I will beat everybody there. Not on Mars, or running, or biking, or taking the Slattery caravan. Nope you all, I am flying.

The pioneer spirit in me is not alive I guess, so I will just have to leave all those aboard the Slattery Caravan to have the best Oklahoma land stake experience they can.