The wedding was at a very elegant Methodist Church in one of the oldest and finest parts of town. Wayne and I were also married in a Methodist Church because it was a nice middle ground between our two family’s religions and God bless the Methodists, they’ll take anybody. When it came time to dispense the sacrament it was explained that all denominations were welcome to participate, even you pseudo-Catholics that only go to Church on Christmas and Easter and the Jack Mormons too. Well; they didn’t say that but we knew we were good to go up front.
While waiting my turn I caught the eye of the bride and we waved and giggled and I winked at the groom and snickered, so I was not behaving in a reverent manner and was caught a little off guard when it was my turn. I stepped up and by rote made the sign of the cross, took a piece of the bread and said thank you Fa…. err, Rev… um, Past…Dude?
Wayne has been telling me for years that it is not always necessary to say something. In fact when in doubt say nothing. AS IF!
Well the Pastor politely ignored my bobble and I managed to make it through the rest of the ceremony without incident. I did ditch Granny in the receiving line but that was after the ceremony!
The reception:
Two words; open bar!! It would have been cheaper for the matrimonial couple to board the dog for a week and not invite me to the wedding, rather than set me loose on an open bar. But I made up for it by not eating any of the shrimp appetizers.
While we were all waiting for the couple to come out and be toasted, I was standing by the gazebo minding my own business, sneaking sips of my champagne and calculating in my head how much I could drink and still have enough for the toast. But I ended up polishing off the flute while hearing about some very personal stuff from the groom’s second cousin from up north. (Side note; make nice with the wait staff, tell how you used to wait table back in the day and what a pain in the ass the snotty guests can be, and they will make sure you get a little extra champagne.)
But what is it about me that makes people walk up and say, “Hello I’m so and so” and start telling me their deal? GEEK MAGNET! That’s what Wayne calls me. I mean the guy wasn’t that bad, he was an average Joe, his wife was nice, and their kid was cute, but seriously, you should not tell a slightly drunky girl you just met at a wedding that you and your wife got engaged at a wake when she was 8 months pregnant. I mean really, how I was supposed to know the kid didn’t know. So it was a little awkward when the teen joined us later and I asked if he was the one at the wake with them, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.
Holy crap, it was like the lightning round of twenty questions: ‘What wake?” “ I don’t remember being at a wake with you?” “ What do you mean I was at the wedding too?” “ Who’s wedding?” “ What are you taking about?”
Yes, well, it was very nice meeting you, we really should be going, um bye now.
Don’t tell a tipsy woman at a wedding stuff you don’t want your kids to know, I’m just sayin!
All and all, if you don’t count my hair, it was a beautiful elegant wedding. A note about my hair: I put it up on electric rollers because I wanted it to look like the Samantha Who's hair.
It didn’t quite work out like that. I ended up with tight little curls and mall bangs. When Wayne saw me emerge from the bathroom he said he didn’t know if I was going to sing him an old country song or ask for donations for the local Christian channel. I thought he was exaggerating till the bride said she liked my come to Jesus hair do. UMP.
But we had a great time anyway and when we got home the dog was so glad to see us, he
gave me a French kiss poodle style. It wasn’t bad, except Wayne says he’s not kissing me till I have my lips dry cleaned.
1 comment:
Poor Kid! Poor DOG!! HEHE!! J/K, the dog got lucky :)
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