Observations and experiences of the weekend

My sister-in-law, my husband’s youngest sister, got married this weekend. It was a blessed and lovely occasion and we gained a terrific new family to embrace as our own.  My husband, son and I traveled a couple of hours north to Indianapolis for the rehearsal and wedding, making a fun and memorable get-away out of the long weekend. 

While the love story is not my tale to tell, I did make some observations, had some experiences and care to share some thoughts.

• My son and his grandmother are tight. She left a glass of white wine at the table unattended. When she sat back down, he told her with a straight face, “Grandma, your apple juice smelled good, but it tasted kind of funny.” (He was joking, of course!) She looked at her glass and at him and said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anybody you drank it.”  Good to know Grandma’s got your back, Son.
• I never cared for the music of George Thorogood and came to truly hate it when it blasted me wide awake from a restful sleep outside the hotel at 6 a.m. as part of the mini marathon … the starting line of which was less than a block away.  Apparently the 32,000 or so runners needed some classic rock blues to get them going at registration. Who do I love? Not you, George.
• Hotel pillows are the best. Where can I buy these squishy, yet firm supporters of celestial slumber?
• Heart melted over my handsome guys dressed in their tuxes for their roles as ushers (or “flower boys,” as my son liked to call them).

Swooning over these guys.

• Not one person asked about the outcome of, or even seemed to care about, the Kentucky Derby, which occurred Saturday, too. It was a really big deal at home in the Louisville area (big deal = gross understatement); yet pretty much completely forgotten about just a couple of hours north in Indy.
• I pricked my finger three times trying to pin a corsage on a cousin’s dress. Note to self: Next time someone asks you to do this, walk away. No need to leave those you care about accidently groped and blood stained.
• I didn’t cry during the wedding ceremony. Suppressing my tears, however, made me look and sound like a heaving cat trying to chuck a hairball: kind of a deep, closed-mouth gulp and stifled gasp, repeated until touching moment subsided (about five reps total). Note to self: Next time? Just cry.
• Taught my son – much to his horror – a few proper dance steps. I told him that when he falls in love with a girl, he can pull her close for a slow dance, but until then, there needs to be enough room between him and his partner for Jesus. He reminded me that he would be dancing with family members, so um, that distance/Jesus thing? Not an issue.

Plenty of room for the Holy Spirit.

• It seems my entire blog fan base consists of cousins who are beautiful, remarkable women with discerning taste. Rock on, ladies, rock on.
• I had a HUGE zit bubble up on my face mid-reception. It was lurking just below my nose like a cat getting ready to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. I can tell you that popping a zit in the bathroom while wearing a party dress felt a lot like it should have been a junior prom thing and not something a 44-year-old woman should have to be doing. 

Family pic, pre-zit.

• More than one person remarked - without sarcasm - along the lines of, “I bet it’s fun at your house.” Why, yes it is.
• I still swoon when my husband asks me to slow dance with him.
• You can end my biography with: And she sat down with her glass of gin and her slice of cake and lived happily ever after.

Amen.

• Could have been the gin, but I’d like to think it was the 25 years I’ve spent with these lovely people … I went to sleep all happy and content Saturday night thinking, “I married into such a nice family.” 

What did you do this weekend?