tales from the wedding
So the sister's wedding is over and done with. I can't quite believe it's come and gone already. As expected, I was asked at least a dozen times if I was "up next" but I was able to deflect all questions with panache. And by panache I mean, "Oh get the hell out of here and leave me alone!" It worked well.
Saturday FLEW by even though it was an extremely long day. I slept at my oldest sister's house in order to keep the shower and bathrooms free at the mother's house for the bride. The niece insisted I sleep on the trundle bed in her room which was all fine and good until she woke up at 7:30 and promptly commenced with her yapping. My hair appointment wasn't until 11:00am so there was no reason for me to be up at that ungodly hour.
I was a bit nervous about getting the hair and makeup done because both people accomplishing this task were untested by me. I had to rely on faith that I wouldn't end up looking like a scary-ass clown. Fortunately, the makeup guy (Larry) often works for Dior so subtlety and class were his order of the day. Ooh and the hair lady (Amy) worked my curls into a delicate and loose pattern framing my face. It was almost like a flapper hairdo. After the makeup was done, I was told I looked like one of the dancers from Chicago. It was hard not to break out into the "Cell Block Tango" right there in my Mom's living room.
The ceremony was beautiful. A bagpiper played outside the church before and after the ceremony. I guess by the time we assembled on the steps afterwards, he had run out of songs because he started playing the themes from Jesus Christ Superstar and Star Wars. VERY interesting compositions on the pipes, I must say.
My niece was one of three flower girls. In her time on the altar, she managed to show the entire congregation her undies, yawn several dozen times during the vows and then upstage the monsignor by standing behind him and gesturing dramatically. She assumed the pose of an opera singer and began lipsyncing to the soloist's rendition of "Ave Maria." I can't wait to see the video of that. Little heathen that she is.
The reception was fabulous. I was having a grand old time with my Irish, Canadian and Scottish cousins out there on the dance floor. We could have a fun time dancing to static, truth be told. The brand new brother-in-law is extremely quiet and shy, as is most of his family. I'm just about certain that they think my family is nuts. We outnumbered them but even if we didn't, we totally commandeered the dance floor the entire night. My cute 78-year-old uncle (the Mother's oldest bro) came up to me and put his hand out and said, "Come on Curly, let's go shake it!" How could I resist?!
No McDimple wedding would be complete without some traditional Scottish and Irish music. After a few polkas to satisfy the new in-laws, the fiddles, accordions and pipes took over and before long, I was doing the Gay Gordons with the best of them. Um, it should be noted that I don't actually know how to do most Scottish and Irish dances but I can fake it pretty good. My dress was really long and it covered up my clumsy feet and I was able to prance about quite believably while yelping like the good Celt that I am. It also helps that I have bouncy hair.
One of the Canadian cousins got a wee bit carried away during "Oh Mickey" and she accidentally walloped the oldest flower girl in the mouth. The flower girl recovered quite nicely and was laughing again soon after. However, we then proceeded to say, "Hey look, I'm Kathleen!" while throwing punches and other violent moves to make fun of the cousin. Um, I tried a Tae Bo like-kick and well... the lining in my dress was rather unforgiving and whoosh! I landed on the floor with a flourish. However, my softball ability kicked in and I bounced right back up. It looked like I slid safely into home. I was congratulated by all for my impressive re-entry. It hurts like a mutha today though. Yeeouch.
My Uncle George was wearing a kilt and one of the waitresses was apparently dared by the rest of the wait staff to ask him what was under it. She got the shock of her life not only by his answer but also when he dragged her out on the dance floor. That should be some interesting footage on the video. "Hey, who's that girl in the pantsuit with the gold buttons and tapered legs getting down to 'Last Dance'?"
Speaking of the video, the videographer had a serious B.O. problem. I was dancing away and got a whiff and automatically assumed it was me. I don't know why I did because I could run a marathon, roll around in mud and not shower for a week and I still wouldn't stink like that. The smell was atrocious. All of a sudden, a friend I was dancing near said, "Whoa! The videographer is ripe!" Several other people overhead and we all said at the same time, "Oh thank God! I thought it was me!!" Yesterday at breakfast, those not within earshot of this revelation discovered the smelly truth and were equally relieved. It was like a phantom fog that filled the air in such a way to make normally good-smelling people second guess their brand of deodorant. Oh it was but a mighty stench. Some people can throw their voices, this dude can throw his stank. In a way, it's rather impressive I guess.
Saturday FLEW by even though it was an extremely long day. I slept at my oldest sister's house in order to keep the shower and bathrooms free at the mother's house for the bride. The niece insisted I sleep on the trundle bed in her room which was all fine and good until she woke up at 7:30 and promptly commenced with her yapping. My hair appointment wasn't until 11:00am so there was no reason for me to be up at that ungodly hour.
I was a bit nervous about getting the hair and makeup done because both people accomplishing this task were untested by me. I had to rely on faith that I wouldn't end up looking like a scary-ass clown. Fortunately, the makeup guy (Larry) often works for Dior so subtlety and class were his order of the day. Ooh and the hair lady (Amy) worked my curls into a delicate and loose pattern framing my face. It was almost like a flapper hairdo. After the makeup was done, I was told I looked like one of the dancers from Chicago. It was hard not to break out into the "Cell Block Tango" right there in my Mom's living room.
The ceremony was beautiful. A bagpiper played outside the church before and after the ceremony. I guess by the time we assembled on the steps afterwards, he had run out of songs because he started playing the themes from Jesus Christ Superstar and Star Wars. VERY interesting compositions on the pipes, I must say.
My niece was one of three flower girls. In her time on the altar, she managed to show the entire congregation her undies, yawn several dozen times during the vows and then upstage the monsignor by standing behind him and gesturing dramatically. She assumed the pose of an opera singer and began lipsyncing to the soloist's rendition of "Ave Maria." I can't wait to see the video of that. Little heathen that she is.
The reception was fabulous. I was having a grand old time with my Irish, Canadian and Scottish cousins out there on the dance floor. We could have a fun time dancing to static, truth be told. The brand new brother-in-law is extremely quiet and shy, as is most of his family. I'm just about certain that they think my family is nuts. We outnumbered them but even if we didn't, we totally commandeered the dance floor the entire night. My cute 78-year-old uncle (the Mother's oldest bro) came up to me and put his hand out and said, "Come on Curly, let's go shake it!" How could I resist?!
No McDimple wedding would be complete without some traditional Scottish and Irish music. After a few polkas to satisfy the new in-laws, the fiddles, accordions and pipes took over and before long, I was doing the Gay Gordons with the best of them. Um, it should be noted that I don't actually know how to do most Scottish and Irish dances but I can fake it pretty good. My dress was really long and it covered up my clumsy feet and I was able to prance about quite believably while yelping like the good Celt that I am. It also helps that I have bouncy hair.
One of the Canadian cousins got a wee bit carried away during "Oh Mickey" and she accidentally walloped the oldest flower girl in the mouth. The flower girl recovered quite nicely and was laughing again soon after. However, we then proceeded to say, "Hey look, I'm Kathleen!" while throwing punches and other violent moves to make fun of the cousin. Um, I tried a Tae Bo like-kick and well... the lining in my dress was rather unforgiving and whoosh! I landed on the floor with a flourish. However, my softball ability kicked in and I bounced right back up. It looked like I slid safely into home. I was congratulated by all for my impressive re-entry. It hurts like a mutha today though. Yeeouch.
My Uncle George was wearing a kilt and one of the waitresses was apparently dared by the rest of the wait staff to ask him what was under it. She got the shock of her life not only by his answer but also when he dragged her out on the dance floor. That should be some interesting footage on the video. "Hey, who's that girl in the pantsuit with the gold buttons and tapered legs getting down to 'Last Dance'?"
Speaking of the video, the videographer had a serious B.O. problem. I was dancing away and got a whiff and automatically assumed it was me. I don't know why I did because I could run a marathon, roll around in mud and not shower for a week and I still wouldn't stink like that. The smell was atrocious. All of a sudden, a friend I was dancing near said, "Whoa! The videographer is ripe!" Several other people overhead and we all said at the same time, "Oh thank God! I thought it was me!!" Yesterday at breakfast, those not within earshot of this revelation discovered the smelly truth and were equally relieved. It was like a phantom fog that filled the air in such a way to make normally good-smelling people second guess their brand of deodorant. Oh it was but a mighty stench. Some people can throw their voices, this dude can throw his stank. In a way, it's rather impressive I guess.
Labels: family
posted by curly mcdimple @ 2:15 PM :: permalink :: ::
