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Home  The News Desk Sugar and Spice and Everything .... Lumbering?
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Sugar and Spice and Everything .... Lumbering? |
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Written by Melody
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Monday, 11 September 2006 |
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I'm feeling like a veritable white elephant, folks, long in the tooth and living way past my prime. And to come to this conclusion, all it took was a wedding.
I'm feeling like a veritable white elephant, folks, long in the tooth and living way past my prime. And to come to this conclusion, all it took was a wedding.
Now, first of all, the bride was absolutely radiant. Her groom, nervous, and the little flower girls were just so cute, you could just eat 'em up. BUT......
Maybe it was the shock of seeing 90% of the females, regardless of age, in pants of some sort, jeans not excluded. My great grandmother would have been horrified at the disrespect! If I'd walked into the sanctuary in pants, I'd been directed right back home until I changed. Or maybe the bride's mother dressed in unrelieved black -- black dress, black hosiery, black shoes -- started sounding the alarms. Whatever her opinion on the situation was, I don't think she was too concerned about being a Little Mary Sunshine. Until that moment, I'd felt guilty because my dress had a black background behind its pretty bright but genteel flowers.
Perhaps it was the organist's lovely but mind-numbing renditions of 'soothing' music. Why would anyone deliberately play somber, depressing instrumentals at a wedding? I thought these were supposed to be happy, uplifting, hopeful ocassions. By the time the processional started, I was seriously considering leaving and finding something to soothe my now troubled spirit.
Heck, maybe it was even the groom's dad with his collar askew that set my inner critic cackling in astounded glee. I dunno. Whatever “it” was, there was plenty to boggle about.
The two or three little steps from the main floor to the raised dais in the front of the church sanctuary caused some trouble. Now I realize that the bride, short but not a small girl by any means, wore a beautiful long dress and that in real life, she's an athlete. But when she stumbled on the first step, she reached down and hiked her skirts up, elbows straight out, like she was going to march right on over and tell that preacher man a thing or two! Up the steps she stomped. Oh my. Her bridesmaids, except for the third (and last) followed suit, albeit in not quite such a strident manner. I don't think I've heard quite that loud of footsteps on carpet since.... well, I don't think I ever have. Luckily, coming back down those steps, no one felt the need to hitch their skirts up again.
After the nice and relatively short ceremony, the newly joined couple escaped in a limo.......only to return five minutes later. Well, town *is* only five blocks by six blocks, but still! Apparently they thought that would give the photographers time to capture the grandparents' likenesses for posterity. It didn't, but they tried. In the meanwhile, the very crowded church emptied out onto the street (the groom's mother had firmly told everyone to squinch up closer 'cause they were running out of room), effectively blocking that end of town. Not that that takes much, mind you, in a town of 325.
We all met at a new 'pavilion' about 20 miles away. Calling the place a pavilion is stretching it a bit, in my opinion, since it was a squat brick building with a few roses planted outside. When the happy couple finally made their way in, we had to wait for another half an hour for the parents to be 'introduced', the couple to take their place and the reception to begin. For me, the first boggle moment of the reception was seeing the bride walk in, still in full bridal regalia, carrying a bottle of Hot Damn schnapps. The first picture taken of her at the reception was proudly and prominently holding that bottle aloft. Oh dear. Dare I read anything into that? This had all the earmarks of a doozie.
For two hours, the only sounds were the din of well over fifty people and the PA system of the university's football game a block and a half away. Somehow hearing the team score the 'first down' made the evening just that much more special.
I have never seen so many females in one spot pull up panty hose, slips and waist-bands in public in my life. Neither have I seen so many girls in dresses and skirts sit with their legs splayed or walk like lumber-jacks in heels! Sit with your legs together, walk with dainty steps? Heck no. If your panty hose are slipping, no need to go to the ladies room -- just grab the waist-band and give 'em a pull. Wiggle the hips if you have to, but make sure it's a public spectacle.
Reception food has also changed. There was barbecued pork and pork with barbecue, baked beans with hamburger and baked beans with ham chunks. And did I mention the mashed potato salad with dill? And all these years, I never knew that after dinner mints didn't have mint in them! I was firmly corrected of my misconception by the person who had made the non-minty mints. Apparently all this while those big candy companies and I have been making them wrong.
And who knew that sorority girls knew the Hokey Pokey or that... that stuff coming out of the speakers was called music?! Formals, all strapless, were constantly checked, a female version of Michael Jackson's constant adjustments on stage. Right next to the wedding cake, a horrible concoction of chocolate and white cake with sugar-and-shortening icing, the bridal fountain flowed with Hot Damn, alcohol!, fueling the already exuberant college guests. No genteel sipping there! No siree. Fill those glasses and chug-a-lug that booze. And make sure you say hello to Jim and Jack and Bud and all their pals, too. I looked for the punch and finally found it tucked away on the other corner of the table, unwelcome and barely noticed. One little boy drank a glass full, that's all.
We oldsters kept looking at each other, wondering what we had stumbled into on our way to a wedding reception. Yes, indeed, I have come to a point in my life where girls don't dress like girls, don't walk like girls and certainly don't act like girls! What in the heck is an old geezer like me to do now? |
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Last Updated ( Wednesday, 13 September 2006 )
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