Receptive Reception

Saturday night was my sister’s wedding reception. Yep, same sister that got married in Jamaica a month earlier (see Jamaica posts). Since not everyone was able to experience a really shitty vacation, they held a local reception. If you think about it, it is like they just bypassed all the boring ceremony crap and headed straight into the drinking. Not a bad idea.

Family weddings for me involve corralling the herds of children present. I was part of a wave of 26 first cousins (yes 26 blood related first cousins not counting spouses, well those of the ones I usually see at Christmas, so there may be more from the estranged relatives). Thanks to the strong Nebraska values of marry young and start breeding, this wave is producing a large crop of 25 second cousins (or first cousin once removed or something). I’m the token unfortunate cousin who is 28 and gasp not married yet (you would think I am cursed with leprosy or something). Yeah, the first question my aunts and uncles all ask me is “so Lindsay….have you found a boy yet”. Typically I shoot back an answer like “no, I’ve started running and I can’t find a guy to keep up” or “no, the guys don’t like to stick around much after they have paid for the blow job” or my favorite “boys, naw, I’m not into them anymore, I’m a lesbian”. Of course none of these are true but I love the look on my Mom’s face when she slaps my arm and hisses to me “don’t say that, they don’t even know what that word means”.

Although I am shunned by the adults, the kids all worship with me because I am willing to play with them. Hurrah! Typically I pick them up, run around with them, and pretend to shove them into things. I tell you, nothing generates giggles of joy like pretending to flush someone down the toilet or dangling them over a trash can. I sat down with them to catch my breath (give me credit, I was in heels and a green bridesmaid dress). It is true, kids say the darnd-est things. One kid started talking about how her dog eats its own poop! I told her there is a pill you can feed the dog to make it stop doing that (it is supposed to make the shit taste bad because plain shit is just to darn tasty….no wait, huh, must be a placebo or something). The little girl then clarified that her dog crapped dog treats…um nope, those are not candy bars sweetie. Turns out it was her Barbie dog and you stick plastic “treats” in its mouth and it comes out the butt. Well this sparked a flurry of conversation like “well I have a bunny that poops jelly beans” and “well I have a chicken that poops M&M’s”. Yep, 10 minute conversation about….pooping. I later told their parents the subject of our heated discussion. They all shook their heads and will rethink their toy selections from now on.

I fruitlessly tried to escape the under 8 crowd for some adult time (oh who am I kidding, I wanted to get some booze in me). Finally I asked them if they wanted to dance because, hey, what kid doesn’t freak out during YMCA. One particularly judgmental boy cousin loudly proclaimed “dancing is dumb”. I feigned being emotionally slapped in the face and said I like dancing and therefore I must be dumb by their logic (okay lame excuse, but the kids were sold and I was able to finally join the party). Well a half hour later, the ring leader (i.e. the oldest) approached me with a note. Evidently all the kids “felt really bad” about calling dancing dumb and really really really wanted me to come back a play with them. Okay, tear, it was very touching, but I loved the fact it was addressed “dear (blank)” because they didn’t know how to spell my name.

Speaking of dancing, we finally got my mom out on the dance floor. She mostly goofs off and just shakes her body while laughing. Well a country bumpkin cowboy fancied my mom and tried to dance with her. She kept the awkward seven feet of space between them but increased the distance when he started air humping her (you know when a guy thrusts his pelvis in and out at you).

One thing I like about weddings is seeing everyone dressed up. For some people it is easier said than done. For example, my new brother-in-law Brad. He normally keeps his ties (oh who am I kidding, his lone tie) already knotted on the hanger. Since my sister made him get a new shirt and tie for the reception, he was faced with the task of tying a tie for the first time in several years. To aid him, he printed off instructions from the internet. I don’t know what is more humorous, that he printed off instructions or that the shirt in the diagram is short sleeved. My dad eventually helped him out since he has worn a tie every work day for the last 25+ years.

One of the bad things about hosting the reception is that you cannot get completely out of control (as is standard with any friend’s reception or party or typical Saturday night). I spent the final hours of the party hauling gifts out to the car, handing out party favors, and boxing up all the misc items like votive candles and guest book pens. I did not do a good job getting rid of flowers since we still had over ten giant vases full at the end of the night. Not wanting to waste them, we piled them into the mini-van, along with my Aunt Patty, the bride and groom (yep, their luxury ride back home was in the family van), my parents, the gifts and decorations. On top of all of that, we were required to take all of the left over food home with us from the hall. So imagine me sitting there, surrounded by flowers (like in your face flowers), while balancing a travel bag in the other hand and leaning on one butt cheek so I don’t smash the cake top! About half way home, some one said “wait, do you smell that, what is it…” Of course I could not smell shit since I had a giant lily in my face, but evidently the canister of green bean/bacon cracked open and spilt in the car. The next day, the van still reeked of green beans, whew, not my problem.

I like the new brother-in-law more and more every time I hang out with him. He just does/says things that are so genuinely funny but I don’t think he realizes it. For example, on the way home from the reception, he was a bit drunk. He announced to van (parents, aunt, and me) that “I think my friends were trying to get me drunk tonight” as if it was a breaking news story. We got on the subject of grandchildren (because hey that is all my Mom wants to talk about these days). My aunt asked them when they plan to have kids. Brad patted Angela on the back like an old buddy and said “we’ll start trying in about…10 minutes”. Ah ha ha ha! Love it!