Weddings and other Natural Disasters

As I write this my fingertips are coated in a semi-permanent shield of super glue and topcoat nail polish from the peppermint earrings i'm slaving over. I'm this close to sleeping on the upstairs couch because i'm paranoid about the various fumes.  Having peppermint scented hallucinations and lung damage is not on my prolific to-do list, while recording an accurate (heehee) account of my eldest cousin's wedding is. Is that Justin Beiber wearing the candy cane jumpsuit from the dude in Candy Land?

Anywho, let us begin: 

    They were gone. Just like that, completly erased from his forehead. Were they burned off? Did they fall out as a side-effect from stress? Surely he didn't do it on purpose.

    However it happened the undeniable fact was this: My cousin Matthew had no eyebrows. Not a hair. To make it a million times worse, this realization came to me while watching Matt stand at the alter, wringing his nervous hands as the music began. Matching dwarves (aka tater tots) marched down the silken aisle, strewing rose petals and bearing shiny, easy-to-lose rings. The fur trimmed and perfectly coiffed women sighed and exclaimed quietly about how cute the little boy was in his tux. I must have been the only one to notice him picking his nose. 

    Bridesmaids and groomsmen shuffled along, my cousin Kyle one of them. I am astonished that my Aunt ever found a tux that would fit his lanky frame. At the ridiculous height of nearly 7 ft., Kyle is most likely one of the tallest people I know. Who else, when you hug them, has to reach down? Even then I ended up hugging his hips, which was fairly awkward.

    My Aunt, the ever amazing, whimsical, craft smart, and beloved Debbie gracefully stepped down the aisle. She looked like an Grecian Godess in her purple toga-style dress with maple syrup colored curls. My Uncle, the never-changing, book loving, salt and pepper Mike looked out of place in a tux and no hat. The inlaws of the bride were fairly unremarkable. All I remember was a portly cloud of jewels and fur, accompanied by her tweedy husband. The most memorable thing about either was their teary eyes and beaming smiles. 

    There was a pause, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. Everyone held their breaths and waited for the bride to enter. I admit I tried to get a better look at the doors and wondered if their would be a dramatic scene where the bride flees, weeping, from the sanctuary. Fortunately (though I was a litttle disappointed), the famous (and infamous) music began. A vision of white and spray-on tan wafted elegantly down the aisle, arm in arm with her father. Her black hair was pulled back into a loose bun and secured with little diamond clips.         She made her way to Matt, and they stood to face the priest. As the guest were given the thumbs up to sit by the priest, my Aunt Rhonda slipped into the seat beside me, giggling like a school girl late for morning assembly. She led her newest boyfriend by the hand and didn't  let go.

    Aunt Rhonda has an infamous past with romance. Divorced from her first husband, second husband died, third husband divorced after a few days and for unknown reasons, and multiple and colorful boyfriends scattered in between. Her latest one, the handsome detective, was the best one yet in my opinion. He looked, funnily enough, exactly like Detective Carlton Lassider from the AMAZING TV show "Psych": 

(I actually forgot his real name, so I almost called him "Lassie"...)

    The mothers of the bride and groom stood and read a long poem about how it takes three to make a marriage work (God, Groom, Bride). I missed most of the poem because I was singing "It takes three to make a thing go riii-ght, it takes three to make it out of sight!" in my head.

    I think that my Aunt was taking the last oportunity to minister to my wayward and slightly immoral cousin Matt. Matt and his bride-to-be had been living together for two years or so before the wedding, much to my Aunt and Uncle's chagrin.

    The fact that Matt and his girlfriend had been living as if they were married took that magical sparkle from the wedding in my eyes. It made the sanctity of marriage and purity a farce, not special and worth waiting for.

    The preist talked for awhile about this and that, adding a metaphor about bridges and donkeys here and there, until finally proclaiming: "I now pronounce you, MAN AND WIFE!"

    Rings were exchanged, lines fumbled, and finally: the kiss. If theres one thing I want at my wedding, its a sincere kiss. Matt looked like he was giving the bride a peck before heading out to work.

    We all filed into the banquet hall in order of seats, which I relished becasue that meant I got to walk out before most of the guests. :D Ahhh, the envious looks I got from the commoners as I and the other family of the groom exited. I gave them a sophisticated smile and princess waved as I went.

   

    Guest books are sweet, sentimental thoughts for most people. Not for homeschool families. In charge of writing all our names down in the guest book, I ended up using alot of space and holding up the line of wellwishers. I can only imagine what it would be like for my friend Steph's family, which is both home-schooled and Hispanic.

    Here was one of my favorite parts of the evening (NOT): the akward mingling. You know, when you hold a drink in your hand and flit akwardly from one relative to the next. My aunt Rhonda, feeling the need to hook me up with someone my own age, practically handed me my cousin (her daughter) Charlotte's resume and stood there, excitedly awaiting a BFF friendship to be born before her eyes. I smiled nervously. Charlotte smiled back like a sarcastic Cheshire cat. It was a match made in purgatory. We ended up making up conversation the rest of the evening, and I always had the feeling that she was laughing at me on the inside.

    The dinner bell rang, saving me. Glory and my mom sat on either side of me at the dinner tabe, saving me from relatives. For the majority of the evening my mum and I stuck to each other like bread dough that needs more flour, prepared to fight back to back against any scary, distantly related people. Glory spent the evening eating everyone's decorative chocolate place settings and handing me all her "extra" silverware. Clara lurked by the cheese and craker table most of the evening, a smart move because she could snack all she wanted and no one was around becasue the rest of the guests were at the bar. After eating some weird, leafy salad and some partially raw salmon, I headed to the best part of the entire evening: THE CANDY TABLE. Some genius had struck upon the idea of an entire banquet table dovoted to nothing but glorious candy. M 'n' Ms, expensive chocolates, caramels, candy canes, reeses, and more. Plus you got your own little bag and could take your candy home. I intend to have exactly such a glory at my own wedding. I also plan to have a chocolate fountain, karaoke, ramune, and much more. Now I just need to find a filthy rich fiancee...

    A friend of ours once said, "At some dances I've been to people are practically conceivin' on da dance floor!" At this wedding, it looked like they were giving birth. Esp, this one guy who was totally drunk and sincerly hope i'm not related too. Let me just say this: I never realized what a dangerous combination dancing and beer are. THough, I admit, there were some amazing Indian guys break-dancing.

    My aunt Vicky, a vivacious and joyful blonde who, like her sister Rhonda, has a wild romantic past but has settled down for sure with my beloved uncle Bob, the motercyclist farmer from Tennasee. Anyway, she pulled my cousins and i onto the dance floor as soon as the music strarted and kicked her heels off. Swirling and bobbing, we literally danced the night away. I spent the evening teaching them my favorite zumba moves.

   

    Collapsing on my bed that night, my skirt wrinkled, hair uncurling, and smelling of wedding; I had learned several new things:

~Beer, in large quantities, makes fools of great men. And women.

~None of my cousins can dance, even if they think they can.

~I now know what not to do at my wedding (except the candy table!)

~Sexual purity until after marriage is worth waiting for seeing what happens when you don't.

~My Aunt Vicki was once married to a Detroit gangster named Tony who was later "taken care of" by the mob. How come I never knew this before?!?

~My cousin Matt has facial hair issues. Well, all hair issues.

~My mom is an excellent bodyguard.

~I had no idea what my cousin's bride's name was...

Chocolate and Champagne,

~Hannah