It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times.

So my brother got married and it went beautifully.
But I might be dying (sorry, I'm really morbid when I'm stressed), Nick's laptop took a potenially fatal blow (of coffee), and my car blew up. And by 'blew up' I mean 'expensive' and 'not covered by warranty'.
Oh and Mick got sick, but he's better now. I had a feeling he wouldn't die of illness. He'll be the first bird to die of spontaneous bird combustion or something equally dramatic.

And now I'll give you the long version.




Friday morning I got a distressing phone call from my doctor. Teach me to give her my real number. (kidding)
Could be something (bad), could be nothing, only time (and a specialist with uncomfortable equipment) will tell.
Nick and I decided to shake it off and worry about it after this weekend. We had no idea what a theme this line of thought would become.
We ran errands all day, including a completely unnecessary stop at Murphy's Surplus, just because it amuses us.
incidentally, this is our makeshift computer desk, because it's the only place in the apartment where we can steal our neighbor's wifi. My easel was there, but in all honesty, the computer is a far more worshiped idol in my apartment.

The rehearsal dinner ran smoothly, other than my father poking me in the stomach and asking if I was pregnant.
Right. 'Cause that's how I'd tell him. I'd drink a few margaritas at my brother's rehearsal dinner and drop it casually.
At least his fiancee Rose (my soon to be step-mother) had the decency to look horrified when he said that. And speaking of Rose, I found her quite tolerable. I mean, I think I'd flat out like her if she wasn't a package deal with my father. She obviously wanted me to like her, while it might have been a smidge over the top, I don't envy her position, trying to win over the affection of her new stepdaughter, so I've decided to reserve any judgment and give her time to show her true colors.
Rose seems to be the best my father was ever going to land, so she's a best case scenario as far as I'm concerned.
And my new step brother.
He looks like Harry Potter, he's shy at first, and he carries tools on his belt. Naturally, I heart him utterly, as he is EVERYTHING(see above) I ever wanted in a little brother.

Anyway, I got to catch up with my cousin Caleb and some very old and dear friends over dinner, before we headed home.

The next morning (Sat) we started out bright and early, as I had to report to hair and makeup. Before we left, I packed a bag of snacks, good thread (emergency sewing kit thread generally SUCKS) and bobby pins. Just as we were parking outside the hairstylist's, a cup of coffee launched itself out of the cupholder and directly into Nick's laptop.
We dried it off as best we could and decided to shrug it off and think about it later.

The minute I sat down in the hairstylist's chair, she exclaimed, "You MUST be Jesse's sister!"
I told y'all there was a strong family resemblance, a resemblance which reared it's gorgeous head again when she did my hair in a poufy retro style and I looked in the mirror and saw instead of my own face, the spitting image of my grandmother circa 1962.

After that, Nick and I headed over to Jesse and Bethany's new condo where all us brides and 'maids were getting ready. I'd like to say I was leaning in on the right to comfort and calm her, but frankly, she was the calmest and happiest bride I've ever seen.


We ate bagels and drank coffee and watched Nick try to revive the laptop, with the help of a blowdryer.

Just when things were getting TOO calm and under control, our flowergirl arrived. In a cloud of words and swish of skirts. This is a child after my own heart.

Our limo arrived and we piled in, Nick following in my car, heading to the country club.

A few minutes after we arrived and settled into the little brides room, a stressed-looking Nick knocked on the door and informed me that my dear little Gwennie-car had 'thrown a rod' and that it was BAD.

My father offered to have her towed back to my house (quite a distance). His motivation for this kind gesture could have been anything from not allowing anything to spoil Jesse's (his golden child) wedding, to impressing his fiancee, to maybe even just wanting to be nice to me. I choose not to examine it too closely, and simply be grateful for the gesture which allowed the rest of my evening to run fairly smoothly. (Bless you Lola, for dropping everything on a Sat night and driving over to my place to wait and sign for Gwennie.)

Nick and I shrugged it off and decided to worry about it tomorrow.

Meanwhile, the guest began to arrive. Some family and old friends I hadn't seen in years where there.

My gorgeous Aunt Kitty and my favorite cousin Caleb.

My Grandpa Ken, who taught me every joke I know.

My Uncle Frank and Aunt Shannon, who haven't aged a bit since as far back as I can remember. Seriously. I'd think they'd made a pact with Satan if they both weren't such warm and lovely people.

Luke and Andrea (left), Dave with his date (right). I haven't seen them since high school. I think we've all gotten better looking with age.

Groomsman Dan escorting my grandfather (in back), who I don't care much for since he took up grabbing my ass, and his lovely wife Marty, who I adore. My family is a mixed bag at best, but you have to admit, we marry up.

Groomsman Jordan escorting Gramie Dude (real name) and her husband Patrick (another example of what lovely people we tend to marry). They are more adorably perfect than they appear. I love them both more than coffee.

Groomsman Leif escorting my mother and her husband Bob. Yes, the 'Prophet of God.' He avoided me all evening. Which was very kind and thoughtful of him.

Jordan and Christy.

Leif and Katie.

Dan and I.

Adam and Erin.

Dan (best man) and Cindy (maid of honor).

Ashley, concentrating so hard on all her instructions.

At the other end of the aisle, my brother began to cry. And I cried when I saw him cry.

Love is beautiful.

We all took a few more pictures with the photographer, in the midst of which Ashley got into the champagne. *giggle*

The reception gave me a chance to catch up with my Gramie Dude, dance with Patrick, chat with some relatives I haven't seen in far too long, dodge the bouquet, and bond with the other 'maids.

Despite appearences I am actually defending her shoe choice, not condeming it. And then they were off.
Nick and I, after a tired but happy slow dance, hitched (no pun intended) a ride home with my Aunt Kitty, exhausted.

To be continued ..................