| The day was fabulous, the weather cooperated, the ceremony was a smidge longer than I envisioned but still beautiful and sweet. And then there was my mother. Ceremony scheduled for 3:30pm. As everyone knows I was at the company picnic at lunchtime. The greatest joy about pulling off a wedding in 24 hours is the look of absolute shock on people's faces. Very fun breaking the news. We left the picnic early and just as we got in the car it started to rain. Buckets. Torrential downpour. Get home, shit shower and shave, toss on the dress I picked up at the secondhand store for $2.99 that magically fits (I had bought two, the $8.99 is a size too small - something to work towards on the diet). Still raining. Get back in the car and comment that I guess we're doing this inside, hope mom doesn't mind. Of course the night before when I asked if we could do this shindig at her house in the gazebo I was told straight up "in the gazebo, not inside." Whatever. 3:02 still driving, still drizzling, call from mom "are you planning on being here early?" as in where the fuck are you guys??????? I explain where we are in St. chuck but still several minutes away. When I pull up only my brother's van is there. So basically we arrive before everyone else - that's early enough in my book considering how the day is planned. Skies clear up and bright rays of sun come beaming down. I guess we're going to be able to do this outside. I've gotten as far as the front hall when the kids roll in, I highjack my daughter to do my hair. She approves of the dress. Mom waltzes in the bathroom that I commandeered for hair salon and starts yammering away about the cake. There's a cake? I should have known better. Martha Stewart has kicked into high gear and has decorated for the affair. Good thing she mowed the lawn yesterday! Do I want to do this in the gazebo or under the archway? I choose the archway and she gets Darrin to start stringing some crappy thing of white hearts through it. She's trying to help but doing it completely opposite of Darrin. Daughter and her finish the job. So we stand around and chit chat. And wait. At 3:35 Craig, my friend doing the ceremony, arrives despite my lovely set of directions without street names (come on, I toss together a wedding in 24 hours, you expect me to know STREET NAMES? Remember I am the anti-Suzie, the polar opposite of someone who would have a gold embossed AAA trip tik sent to each of the invitees). I toss my Japanese-tourist camera at 12 yr old son so I have a photographer. But wait, Suzie has her dinky camera and basically follows the child around for all of the good shots. I can't wait to see what her camera captures. She doesn't know how to work the thing, it's on some fucked up delay that I'm sure will be given to my other brother on his next visit home since he knows so much about cameras (does he know ANYTHING about cameras? I'm sure her technology savvy daughter doesn't know squat about them). So through the entire ceremony with my children, their significant others, and brother quietly watching on, Suzie and photog son shuffle around, vying for perfect shots, tripping over shit, getting tangled in the low hanging trees. It was still a nice ceremony. We retire to the kitchen island where cake, balloons, and two bottles of Welch's sparking grape juice. Back when I was getting my hairs did, I was told all about the cake. She had gone to IGA in the morning asking if they had a small white cake. No, but she could order one. Her and the bakery manager get to talking as Suzie is apt to do, explaining that her daughter sprung an impromptu wedding on her can they help out? Well lo and behold they happen to have a small unfrosted cake and a tub of frosting. "Sold!" Yes, that is exactly how she said it. Well that's not so bad because my mom can rock cake decorating. It did look like a professional cake - good thing she bought the cake topper when she did! Paperwork signed, cut the cake, pour the juice, my brother comments on the lack of alcohol and opts for something stronger (coffee) - uproarious laughter from Suzie, more pictures, more idle chat, Craig and kids depart. My brother comments that my son needs a haircut. Yes from my hippy brother. More uproarious laughter... well, okay, that was pretty damn funny. Brother leaves. Grey clouds roll in. Thunder. Heavy rain. Okay, that was kind of cool, the weather cooperated as if it were planned. Fortunately Suzie didn't make any claims about having pull with the Almighty. Do we want to do dinner? Suzie calls her boyfriend, Jim, who never participates in anything until food arrives, he can't be there for another hour. We pass on the offer since Don has to be at work at 3am. What if we all meet at O'Charlies? Well, I guess so, not sure how that's going to get Jim there any faster. And by the way, it doesn't speed up anything. We drive mom to O'Charlies and she rattles on about the Mariner reunion last weekend. While she's talking I had to explain to Don that it was a church group from back in the day - she's still talking. Evidently Ralph and Glenn couldn't make it, but that was probably a good thing since it was at somebody's house with a lot of holes in their yard and one of them would have fallen. Gee maybe the next reunion should be held at the old folks home? And then she starts telling us alllllllllllllllllllllllllllll about how her and Jim are regulars at O'Charlies. Guess what? When we got there the three teenaged girls running people to their tables had no fucking clue who she was. So, of course, Suzie had to be all knowledgable and shit and ask for something near table 50. SERIOUSLY???? We ask if that's a booth because we would rather have a table. Oh, well then, at least make sure it has good lighting? Why? Woman, you have the damn menu memorized and me and Don have good eyesight, so most cavernous part of the restaurant would be okay. Nope, we get something by the window. And that happens to be where they plant people with screaming children. Thus begins part deux of my fabulous tale. The Meal. While we wait and wait and wait and wait for Jim to arrive, after reading through the menu forty times, she tells us about previous meals here. First of all, the prime rib is really good, but it's a lot so she usually orders a salad and just nibbles a little off of Jim's plate. I'm amazed she doesn't get her fingers chewed off for such a thing as coming between a man and his steak. Maybe his missing three fingers slows him down so she's able to dart in there and nab a bite or two? Yeah, whatever Diet Queen. I love how she's always reminding me of ways to cut my calories, she's so sneaky like that. She also tells us a little story about one of their first visits when the staff dared to cook the food so fast that the entree arrived before they were done with their salads. And how she raised holy hell with the management. Guess what? The guy who got his ass reamed was our waiter! He was sweet as pie to her like they were best friends. I'm sure he was sneezing all over our food. Jim arrives so NOW we can place our order. Yes, this was an HOUR since we had called him to make arrangements. Yippee. But no, he has to look over the menu. WHY? Nine years later the waiter comes back. Oh, and the table behind us, with the three small children, are done eating but sitting around talking so the kids are starting to get ancy. I place my order, Don places his order, and just as Suzie begins to rattle off her complicated salad order without croutons and with honey mustard dressing on the side, the toddler behind her starts talking loudly in high pitched toddler tones. You know, the sounds only dogs can pick up? This is exactly the point where I imagine gouging out my eyes using every fork at the table. Suddenly the woman who cannot hear a simple sentence in regular conversation hones in on the kid behind her. And it flusters her. And she has to cover one ear, "just to hear herself think." The little kid's timing was perfect. Every time she opened her mouth, he belted out another high pitched observation or question. Somehow she managed to squeak out her order. Of course if we had super-waitress Julie none of this would have been a problem because she always has their order from last time memorized. I'm pretty sure Julie is an idiot-savant. Everyone but me orders salad. It was extra and since I had a mai tai sitting in front of me, all watered down since it had been there for an hour, I figured I was good with the add-ons for my free meal. Salad arrives and oddly NOBODY has croutons on their salad and something else my mother and Jim requested be omitted. Lucky Don. At least he didn't have to worry about those rock hard bread pieces getting under his dentures. Oh, by the way, mom orders no croutons because she limits her carb intake. I guess the famous O'Charlies rolls are carb free? I plow through two rolls as it is now PAST dinnertime according to my stomach. Part of the ass chewing of previous meals now ensures that the entree orders are not given to the kitchen until they are nearly done with their salads. Don flags down the waiter to let him know we are done with the salads and to make sure the entrees are ordered. Yep, seven minutes ago. How delightful. And now we are out of rolls. Aren't they supposed to keep us hopped up on rolls like Mexican places do with chips? No luck this time. I ask what time it is. Why? Do you have another engagement? I explain that Don has to be at work at 3am so he needs to get to bed around 8pm. Oh. Yeah, we're not old people who live to torment wait staff. We actually have a life. Well not anymore as I have just starved to death. Wait and wait and wait. Orders arrive. Don and Jim cut into their steaks and guess what? Too bloody. Don didn't say squat, he was hungry and dug in. Jim sent his back. There was a scurry between the management staff in a back corner. One manager personally escorted the plate back to the kitchen. So we basically finished our meal before Jim's steak arrived, this time properly cooked, and of course removed from the bill. We wait a little bit and then make our good-byes. The waiter looks sad telling us he was going to bring out some wonderful dessert to celebrate our wedding. He kind of looked like he wanted to leave with us, because he was going to be stuck with Suzie and Jim for another hour. We got home at 7:45. I think I got married today. | 