I have returned from a flash trip to Michigan- ostensibly to clean the carpeting which was showing the history of every dog in the extended family. It was a tiny slice of oblivion before the punch list week before the wedding. I managed to see shooting stars compliments of the Perseid Meteor Showers, eat at Stop 50 (which was far too busy- I think I am the architect of my own wait list) and do quite a bit of physical therapy in the pool on a noodle. I’m calling it rehab, though it looked like frolicking, I am sure. A neighbor was kind enough to amble up a ladder and change a ridiculously high, encased bulb on the staircase for me. I was determined to do it, but he would not allow me to attend Mike’s wedding in a full body cast. Left to our own devices, Steve and I might have been in the dark for a decade. The bulb was that high- and broken off in the socket. Charlie is a biggie in the electrician’s union, and this work was generations below his pay grade. Plus, we mistakenly left the switch live. But he triumphed.
Now the little pieces of last minute stuff will have to be chased. They say the devil is in the details, but I will not permit any hell this week. My personal stuff is at the ready- I did a dry run with my hair, and decided I will attend this wedding as the mutt Janet I see every day in the mirror. No curls to sag, no updo to unravel- I will be me.
Back looks swell But the front is hell
I have ordered new glasses so I will see the shindig, and most of the stuff for the out of town boxes is mounded in the living room. Steve will harass me until I finish them, and I promise they will be complete by Wednesday at the latest. I have to arrange our guests’ tables- a chore I have postponed because I over think EVERYTHING. For example: my siblings with each other, or with their families? Don’t cousins want to be away from their folks, catching up and drinking without a counter? See? Paralysis ensues. Table cards are ready to go, and the menu is typed and awaiting the kids’ okay for printing. The rehearsal dinner RSVP’s are in, and I cannot wait to chill at Trader Vic’s. I guess the biggest challenge this week will be keeping jitters at bay- for the bride and groom, of course. I am steady as I go.
I returned home to find that my across the street neighbor died suddenly. He is my age, and died from the same thing Terry Armour did. What a reminder- that we are temporary guests here on the planet. In the galaxy of humanity, the sum of our days is like a shooting star- they glow, fly, disappear. The prayer is that we have illuminated some other lives. I feel the contrast between our week of joy, and his family’s despair. It also reminds me to embrace every moment- memorize the happiness, hold it and use it to warm dark days. My secret to rolling along with a smile is to have a magnifier on the good things, and a diffuser on the bad. It has worked famously these last decades. I am not offended when I am called Pollyanna. I loved her prismic magic.
My real life will combine with my wedding madness so that I can not resolve to have a thing worth babbling about. I have village meetings, physical therapy, a wake, errands and chores. But stop by in case I need a place to whisper about my worries and my joys. I cannot wait to show you all the details that have moved from dreams to reality for this special day. Family time is so hard to orchestrate- sometimes we have to throw a wedding just to round up all the varmits!
No matter what list of “do not play” songs the kids have made- I will request “Celebrate Good Times” …it’ll be a celebration to last throughout the years. Yahoo!
Gimpy knee or not- I will dance.
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