Wedding Bells!
Well, the engagement lasted for a year and I still love him as much as ever and we're starting to get things in place for the big event. The ceremony and reception will all be at Ray's, Téodor will do the cooking and serving, the invitations are at the copy shop, Téodor will DJ the dinner and after-party, Philippe will blow up balloons, Cornelius will officiate, Spongebath and Emeril will usher, and Téodor will take photos here and there. Some of the big areas I'm still concerned about:
1) Beef's family.
No one knows if Showbiz will show up, but Gramma K can be counted on to go to any event where buffet food can be secretly tucked into one's purse. His Uncle George and Aunt Nina will come (even though Nina had been hoping to be alone that weekend, George says), as well as Jszanus from Omaha, cousin Dave and his wife, and Fred. No one has been able to get in touch with his mom, and the last we heard she was living off the grid with some guy named Bobcat, down in Kern County. That isn't really promising news, because Kern County is probably the nation's #1 meth producing region, and guys named Bobcat tend to be twitchy and drive around in big 4x4's with doors missing. We have to set a table for them, but it's just going to make him feel terrible if (when) her seat is empty all night. Or will it be worse if it isn't?
2) My family.
It's weird the way heaven works. A few immigration rules changed in the 18th century and Dad, always the conservative, chose to save a little money and therefore have a tougher time moving around in the afterlife. I'm the only girl of his eighteen children, though, so I hope he bites his hat and he and mom wait in the extra lines. As for my brothers, who knows. They're all invited, so we'll see. Here's a copy of our immediate family tree — I'm not sure when this dates to, but we're all on there, and it's after Hoppy got sainted:
3) All the rest.
At some point you have to throw your hands in the air and let people take care of themselves. Showbiz shows up and needs a place to sleep? He's a grown man, he can fend for himself—I hear Motel 6 is accepting money these days. We run out of chicken and some folks have to make do with pasta? I will not worry about that on my special day. Showbiz brings some freeloading friend who's working an angle? Spongebath kissed my hand and showed me his can of mace, all in one motion. You don't need the use of your legs if you are alert and can spray poison.
With that bit of wisdom, I'm off to worry that my dress isn't going to fit, that the truffles I made for favors are going to have bloom all over them, and that the price of stamps is going to go up before people can return their stamped postcards. Among other things.
Molly
PS: Nearly forgot -- the song that's been keeping me sane.
