The day started out beautiful but frantic. My sister-in-law and I spent the morning running around doing last minute errands and picking up things for the party. At our first stop, we were waiting in line for the cashier when a man standing behind us said something like "Boy, I guess you guys are quite the party animals." I imagine he got that impression because our cart was piled quite high with libations for the reception.
"Oh, no, " my sister-in-law laughed, "This is all for my son's wedding reception."
"Ah, well, I've been married 50 years," he replied,"and I still haven't had any luck getting my wife to release me."
"Congratulations," I chuckled. "We've been married over 30 years," I said as I gestured to my sister-in-law and myself. Then I suddenly realized what that sounded like.
"Oh," I stuttered, "I don't mean that WE'VE been married to each other. No, she's married to her brother and I'm married to my husband."
By now several more people in the line were suddenly very interested in our conversation.
I thought a moment and realized what I had said. "Oh, no...I don't mean she is married to her brother. She's actually married to my brother," I clarified. "I'd probably better just be quiet now, shouldn't I?" I laughed.
By the time we finished checking out, we had attracted quite a group who were all swapping wedding stories.
We stopped at the bride's father's home to drop off the refreshments on our way back to our house to change. I had never met her father or any of her relatives but had been told that the father was dating someone. When I walked in and saw an attractive lady in the kitchen, I walked over and introduced myself, expecting to hear that she was the girlfriend. Wrong! It was the bride's grandmother. Later, in the car, I said to my sister-in-law, "I'm just not used to a grandmother whose diaper you don't have to change."
Speaking of changing, our clan got into our party outfits and headed over to the bride's father's home, where the reception was to be held. So far, so good. Guests started arriving and it was quite evident that the bride has a lot of relatives while we are a pretty small family. But things were progressing well. The food was served and we had eaten. Many were outside eating under the tent but we had opted to eat inside where it was cooler.
While we were waiting for dessert to be served, one of my nephew's relatives sat down at the table and we began talking about iPhones, iPads, and e-Readers, subjects which are all dear to my heart. At some point in the conversation, she asked me what applications I particularly liked for my iPhone. Well, you don't have to ask me twice to talk about apps. I LOVE talking about iPhone technology and goodies. I was waxing eloquently about my favorite things, and as I am wont to do when I'm excited about something, I was gesturing with my hands. I gestured to make a point and heard a gasp. Right about that point, I smelled wine.....lots of wine. Let me just stop right here to say that I had not been drinking anything stronger than a diet cola, just in case you were wondering.
It turns out that somebody had put their wine glass down on the edge of the table next to my elbow without me knowing as they talked to the person next to me. When I gestured, my elbow hit the wine glass which flew off the table, drenching the groom's grandmother, the carpet, and catching my skirt, too. My skirt was no big deal. It is black and doesn't show anything. The groom's grandmother was another story. She had on white pants and this was RED wine. To make matters worse, the carpet was a very light beige.
Have you ever had one of those moments when you just wish the floor would open up and swallow you? I was mortified. I was grabbing napkins and trying to soak up the wine on the floor and also on poor Mrs. Becker, while apologizing profusely and wondering where the heck that wine glass had come from.
We ended up taking the grandma home and getting her out of the stained clothes and into some clean clothes from her daughter's wardrobe and then did our best to soak the stains out of the clothes. The top will survive to be worn another day. I doubt the pants will ever be the same. We laughed about how we had created some memorable moments and how we had to drive home smelling like winos. And then I sent the Commander and the groom's grandma back to the party and stayed behind and cried. Frankly, I was too embarrassed to return. It's not everyday that you take out a vital member of the wedding party, ruin their clothes, and destroy someone's newly-decorated home in less than 1 minute and before you've even had dessert. I can only hope that the bride's family won't remember what I look like, should we ever cross paths again.
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