Posted by Joke at 11:59 PM
Driven to blithering insanity in three convenient installments.
It's taken longer than you might think.
Not because I availed myself of a waterfall of wine and cocktails, but because the lack of temperance lasted well nigh unto yesterday. Anyway, here is the report:
The Anniversary thing went off exactly as planned. (This is widely considered good.) There were some things about that for which I didn't care in the least, but this was not "my" event so I smiled and nodded and looked amiable and, as Scripture says, plied myself liberally with with wine and ardent spirits.
Of course it was not just the general aspects of the evening that compelled me to suffuse my bloodstream with mood-ameliorating levels of ethanol, but, rather the presence of various people I have been reliably told are related to me by ties of blood. I don't have the greatest gene pool, I know. Earlier in my husbandly career I used to say that my relatives were so uniformly abysmal that I had to get married and make my own.
At any rate, whenever you announce a big deal event like this, these relatives descend from the hills with a whoop and a holler. So I braced myself fully and managed to survive the onslaught. The toast bit went well, mostly because I had an ace up my sleeve. Given the makeup of the audience, about 25% of the people there were not bilingual, speaking only English or Spanish. So, and NO deserves full credit for this, I had my BiL (the Irish engineer, or TIE) come up with me and translate into Spanish. The way it worked was that I'd issue a long, rambling paragraph and TIE would encapsulate it in one raggedly pronounced word of Spanish. So my 45 second greeting turned, in TIE's Spanish, into "Hola." So you see, the actual text of the toast wasn't that relevant.
My dad sort of enjoyed the evening, but A Man of His Years really gets worn out after all those hours of relentless socializing. He literally wasn't fully recovered until yestarday. This is because with relatives pouring in from South Carolina, Virgina, California, Missouri, NY, etc. they all had to be entertained further. Which only tires everyone out.
Now, TFBIM and my sister really did a great job in pulling this off. TFBIM did yeoperson's work, considering the hours labor involved, the fact she was...er...on Day Two AND running a fever with some sinus action for added fun.
Incidentally, she took the wrong meds for the sinus thing (pseudoephedrine and her thyroid do NOT get along) and at 3am bolted upright into what seemed like an outright anxiety attack; heart hammering and breaths coming elusively in snatches. Combine this with the fact TFBIM isn't [how do I say this diplomatically?] the most...er...coherent person when immediately awakened, and I thought she was having a Satanic Possesion episode.
So that was that.
Monday, September 10, 2007
There are several of you who have put up the Twitter thingy -- sorry for the webgeek jargon -- on your blog.
I want to say THANK YOU!
Because of this, whenever I click on your blog, instead of being instantly transported to your touching/trenchant/hilarious musings, I now have time -- finally! -- to go to the kitchen and prepare myself a lovely espresso and also catch up on the news. Later today, I will attempt to make a cappuccino in the time generously afforded me by a Twitter-ed blog as it loads.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
I will say this...
Having an open bar at your parents 50th Anniversary event--where all manner of annoying relatives will congregate like mastodons at a watering hole--is bloody genius.
More as soon as my liver gets wrung out.`
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Very, very sad news.
Michael Jackson* has died, apparently from a heart attack.
I am seriously saddened.
* No, not that Michael Jackson. I mean the one who had talent and actually contributed to the progress of civilization.
As you may know, my parents are celebrating their 50th Wedding Anniversary in a few days. To understand the ramifications of such a statement, you have to know the parties involved. So, I'll try to give you a brief overview of the circumstances and personalities attached to this project and that way you'll see why lunacy hounds me.
First, we come to the fact my dad never wanted* this Very Grand Affair that we'll be having. But, my ol' man is wildly passive-aggressive, so he'd never actually issue a veto. He just grumbles darkly and stresses out visibly, so much so that adrenaline squirts out of his pores. My mom, who knows how these things work -- better than anyone if'n you ask me -- made sure the event was handled by TFBIM and my sister. This was done under the cover of "women do this so much better than men** do" but it was a coldly calculated triangulation move on her part. She knows that TFBIM will not give her an outright "no" to any request (whereas my sister would, almost reflexively) and that neither TFBIM nor my sister are very good at persuading each other, but good at compromising. This way she gets exactly what she wants and without putting her fingerprints thereon or actually exerting any work.
Clevah girl, the old mater.
The only things I have been given to do is "the toast" which I think of as wildly lame (only my mother and wife seem to want it, a supermajority if there ever was one) and which I plan to extemporize mercilessly, lest anyone ever rope me into this sort of thing ever again. I also am in charge of printing out the program, which has to be in English and Spanish and -- because we're that kind of Papist, and because there will be a Mass -- some Latin.
So I have been racking my melon trying to get this thing to line up properly so that on facing pages appear the various things next to each other, all symmetrical-like. Which is harder than it seems, since it's all done on a 8½" x 11" page folded in half...so that "page 2" is the left half of the back of the first sheet, and "page 3" is the right half of the front of the second sheet (and the right half of the back of the first sheet is page 19, etc.)
To say nothing of having to compose a menu and select wines in a committee which includes my sister who pretty much dislikes anything that involves the tastebuds.
My involvement, otherwise, is merely to deal with "What do you think, honey?" followed shortly by "What do you know?" as this spirals into TFBIM's and my sister's and my mother's idea of the wedding someone never had. Y'see, there is a reason why I never do anything even remotely social with anyone else helping*** me. I am fearing a rather dissonant event with a dissonant edge to it.
My dad, of course, is hating every damned minute of it. Then people come up to him and say "Wait until you see it, you'll love it!" (he won't) which only helps to hate it all the more, but he will politely grin and bear through the thing and then passive-aggressively take it out on everyone.
Except me, because I'll be going underground for a spell.
* When asked what he would have preferred, he said "A minute of silence."
*** This always brings to mind the axiom that a camel is a horse designed by a committee.
Monday, September 03, 2007
I'm practically famous-ish.
Look at me.
Driven to blithering insanity in three convenient installments.