I am at my daughter's wedding. It is a storybook affair, set amid champagne fountains and white-gloved waiters. Every detail has been lovingly orchestrated to create a bridal fantasy of snowy white chiffon and antique pearl necklaces.

So why am I wearing sweats and playing catch with my daughter's labrador retriever?

No, this is not one of those nightmares where you find yourself on stage doing Hamlet wearing nothing by really nice cologne. I truly am hiking on this exquisite June morning with Mountain and his mistress, my firstborn... the bride.

Welcome to the "Weekend Wedding"

When my daughter Laurie first announced, with her usual breathless enthusiasm that she and her fiancé had settled on a time and place for their wedding, I barely heard the details, as busy as I was getting teary-eyed and planning a crash diet. When I finally began to listen to her, she was saying, "...and its got fourteen bedrooms and a gazebo and a lake and acres of woods...."

I smiled as she began to take on that we-can-do-anything-because-we're-in-love kind of glow. The Plan, she explained, was to invite both families, the wedding party, and their closest friends to share an entire weekend at the main house of what used to be a children's summer camp in the spectacular Shawangunk Valley area of Ulster County.

Remembering that I was a mother-in-law in training, I practiced my new skill: I smiled and said nothing. Nothing about the fact that both families were already blends of blood relatives and step-everythings. Nothing about the culture shock of transplanting urban guests to a woodland retreat. Nothing about the possible need for U.N. peacekeepers as we began planning for this Irish/Jewish/Latin/African/Italian/Dutch/Asian celebration, led by a female minister and based on a Native American ceremony. The prospect of coordinating this entire production would obviously require the organizational skills of Martha Stewart and the visionary gifts of Cecil B. DeMille. As Laurie finally drew a breath, her plans revealed in all its epic proportions, I turned to the father-of-the-bride to provide a wise and articulate counterproposal to this frighteningly complex wedding suggestion.

"Bathrooms?" he said, lowering the Sunday paper briefly.

"Five," she answered.

Nodding approvingly, he returned to the sports page, and the Wedding Weekend Plan was adopted by a margin of 3 (dreamers) to 1 (muzzled skeptic).

Thank Heaven, as they say, for dreamers.

I could -- and may -- write a book about our experiences before and during the now-legendary wedding weekend. Perhaps it will become the alternative (or sequel) to the Emily Post classic on wedding etiquette. Or I may just write a collection of anecdotes about lox and bagel breakfasts and how they compare to rice and bean dinners shared with a roomful of people whole only link to each other is how much they love the starry-eyed guests of honor.

But for now, let me share some practical suggestions to those of you who may be considering the wedding weekend option:

Pick a setting that feels right. You'll remember the sunrise over the lake long after your families have forgotten the name of the catering hall where they wanted you to have your wedding reception.

Share the live-in part of the wedding only with those who are truly closest to you -- not just the ones who live far enough away to need overnight lodging.

Plan for natural "disasters." Pack flashlights, matches, etc. for those intense storms that leave entire communities without electrical power -- nice for Halloween parties, but not for your wedding ceremony.

Know the difference between "rustic" and "ramshackle." Your guests may be charmed by rough wooden ceiling beams. Antique plumbing may be quite another story.

Have a realistic contract with the site's owners -- in writing. Agree on what is included in the price (bath towels? kitchen staples? trash removal? folding chairs?).

Be familiar with the community where the wedding weekend will be held. Know how to locate the nearest rescue squad, hospital, bus station and grocery store. Even the most seasoned travelers can forget to pack something important -- and three days can seem like a lifetime when you're living without your dental floss, sunblock or your baby's pacifier.

Make sure all your guests understand how formal or informal the actual wedding celebration will be. Fuzzy flannel robes may look cute in the candid photos of early Saturday morning, but if you've always dreamed of a black-tie reception, make the dress code clear in the invitation, or your Pierre Cardin fantasy may turn into a L.L. Bean reality.

Be prepared to compromise. Learning to live under one roof is no easier for groups than it is for couples. A sense of humor is probably the most essential ingredient for the successful wedding weekend.

Most importantly, remember that the wedding weekend is not for everyone. Perfectionists will probably spend the entire three days hyperventilating. Prudes may be too busy doing impromptu bed-checks to have much fun of their own. Public hugging and bonding may be too intense for some families who flourish in a more private setting.

Wedding Day, Wedding Weekend... may you make enough beautiful memories to last a lifetime!