OT Ping Nightmist

On Mon, 18 May 2009 23:17:09 -0500, "Polly Esther" wrote:

Well I am home. We got back just before midnight last night.

The first thing I must report should serve as a warning to one and all. Chuck out those stupid GPS thingies and buy a darned map! The maid of honor was driving, a dear girl whom I adore. She was so paranoid about getting lost, and so fearful of her inadequacies in map reading, that she clung to the GPS directions as if they were graven in stone. The GPS thing is STUPID though. In a sane world to get to anyplace on the southern coast from western NY, you either start out late and go the short route through the major cities on the eastern seaboard, or you start out early and angle over to about Winchester West Virginia, and then southeast to avoid those cities. You do not start early and try to take the shorter mileage route, or you will take twice as long in time as the longer route. Starting early and following the GPS, we found ourselves stuck in traffic on the thruway in the middle of Washington DC at rush hour on a Friday. Some five hours later we were actually able to drive without stopping for a whole ten miles or so, right about then we got caught in the traffic caused by all the locals dragging their boats and families to the beach for the weekend.

So we rolled into Manteo in the early hours of the morning Saturday. This is when I discovered that Manteo is on Roanoke Island, a little something they somehow neglected to mention, or I somehow missed, in the webpages for the gardens or the reception hall. So I laid down Rule 1 for DD3: Do not establish a colony while we are here!

On the way down, about halfway through Maryland, my sinuses started giving me fits, and shortly after that, so did DD3's. We both had sore throats and stuffed heads by the time we were checked in to the otel. I'm not sure if we have a bug of some sort, or if we are very allergic to something that blooms in the south in May.

So straight to bed and sleep like the dead, up at seven, and shortly thereafter go out with DD2 in search of caffeine and a dress. We find the outlet "mall", which is really naught but a shopping plaza. Upon my advice (having no desire to spend or have spent upon me scads of money for a dress I shall probably never wear again) we go to a place called The Dress Barn. Rather than actually shopping, I go into seek and find mode and zero in on the manager. "Hi!" *smile* "Wedding tomorrow, Mother-of-the-Bride, sewing machine ate my dress, haven't bought off the rack in years, HELP!" After explaining that there just was no fixing the disaster caused by the demonically possessed machine (points to the manager for jeopardizing a sale and asking!), she found a half a dozen dresses, including a couple that she explained she normally wouldn't have chosen for such an occasion but for that DD2 said to try to avoid black (apparently everything is going to be black and white this summer, at least if you shop there.). I wound up with a loose sleeveless black sheath that had a fake shrug gathered in front with a clutch of rhinestones, in layered chiffon. While I was trying on dresses, the manager asked DD2 "Y'all are from the north right?". Upon receiving an affirmative reply she dashed off again and came back with an undergarment, the likes of which I have never before seen. But she convinced DD to buy it, and DD convinced me to wear it. All I will say further on that subject is that I found myself wearing more lycra than I have since I had to give up dance class.

While we were shopping DH phoned DD and explained that Ash still had a temperature, so they were going to be staying home.

DD and DSIL decided that since the only time I had actually seen the ocean was out of the window of a plane comining into Newark, that they had to make time to take me to the beach for a minute. Apparently all the water I had been seeing all day was part of the sound and didn't count since you could see stuff on the other side of it. I found it a bit odd. Being accustomed to the great lakes I expect big water to have a smell to it, and it didn't.

After being warm and sunny all morning, it became overcast, and a bit cool, and then got very drizzly. So by the time the rehearsal rolled around, it was raining in fits and starts. I missed getting an official garden umbrella, and wound up mostly doing without. Because the lady in charge was new, and really didn't much know what she was doing, it took a while and a lot of walking back back and forth and around and about. Because of the rain they couldn't set anything up to play the music so it wound up being more showing the paths to take, and finding the tent to be used in case of rain, rather than an actual rehearsal. The not-amicably divorced parents-in-law were both there. Papa had brought his girlfriend to the rehearsal when not doing so was going to be his promised concession, Mama was suitably irritated. They both took it in turns to walk next to me with big smiles and umbrellas, but when one came within 10 feet the other would run off, and then the the approaching one would triumphantly hold their umbrella over me. Seeing my half drenched state the DJ took pity upon me and just flat out gave me his umbrella. I darn near asked that fella for his phone number, because he gallantly invited me out for pizza that night instead of leaving me in the position of having to figure out how to turn down dinner invitations from both of them when they started arguing over me.

By the time I got back to my room, the weather and all had taken their toll. My stuffed head had progressed to a full on chest cold, complete with fever, and hacking up gobs of goo. I put myself to bed propped up on all the pillows so I wouldn't drown on snot in my sleep.

The actual day dawned warm and sunny. I stayed in bed and kept warm, DD2 brought me a seriously strong coffee (double americano if you speak coffee house), guaifenesin with psuedoepninepherin tablets, monstrous huge multi-zinc pills, lots of aspirin, and I didn't start getting ready until the last minute. DD was going to paint my toenails until I pointed out that I was wearing hose. Then she just turned me over to "The Hair Lady". I approached her warily, Hair Ladies being Very Dangerous Creatures in my experience. She just plopped me into a spinney chair and sprayed my head with a lot of gunk and then ran some kind of a hot thing that I think was called a "chi" through it, sort of a non-curling iron. No idea what the point of it was, but it made everybody happy so I tolerated it. All else she did was move my part over an inch and spray more gunk on. She said she liked my hair so she was going leave it down and loose. Best plan since you have to just about varnish it in place if you want to do anything else with it. So everyone was primped an polished and ready to leave, when DD3 sneezed. A simple sneeze should have been no problem, but her sinuses had been just as miserable as mine and she wound up with a gusher of blood. Her sister clamped a towel over the unfortunate girl's nose, and I sent a bridesmaid running for ice. Then I loosened the death grip DD2 had on her sister's head so poor Gabrielle could actually breath. We got the bleeding stopped in a few minutes with her head tipped back and ice on the back of her neck. Fortunately Hair Lady had some regular peroxide in her bag and we got all the spots out of everybody in short order, though we nearly had to wrestle one bridesmaid to the ground when she wanted to go off in search of club soda. We had peroxide to hand, we were afraid that if the girl went off looking for club soda that she would get lost and phone home from Albuquerque for bus fare. At that point Mundi would have made Gabrielle spit on everybody rather than risk allowing anybody to go haring off. Between the other bridesmaids, the bride, the Hair Lady, and me, it should have taken several hours to redo poor Gabrielle's make-up, fortunately Mundi realized this, assigned the Hair Lady the task and kept everybody else occupied. So we were all actually only about 20 minutes late getting to the gardens.

By the time we got to the gardens, the sky was dripping. The groom, being a smart guy, had already moved everything to the tent. So when the downpour started at the same time as the processional music everybody was undercover. Getting to my place caused me to mentally write Rule #2: If ever there is the slightest chance that you will be walking on sand, gravel, or sand and gravel, do not wear 3 inch heels. I did manage to navigate my way to my seat, leaning heavily on the groomsman escorting me, shivering with fever, panting for breath, over the sand and gravel path, in three inch heels, without even stumbling. Though I did promise myself to lay in a stock of satin ballet slippers for emergencies. The ceremony went well. I just told myself that maybe they do things differently on Long Island when the mother of the groom stood before I did at the start, when the first bridesmaid came into view rather that at the start of the march. All his family is catholic, and I have never been to a catholic wedding either, so maybe that is where that came from. Since DH was not there, I even asked her to walk back alongside me behind the proper wedding party.

Because of the downpour the formal pictures were done at the reception hall. Of course I had to climb stairs to do it. By this time I was drenched in freezing rain from the dash to the car from the wedding, and from the car to the hall, running to the wrong door, and back around to the right one. So with a case of the shivers and breathing like a pirate (har, har, har, har) I tackled the stairs. By this time I was coughing up half a lung at every expenditure of effort, and I was starting to run out of lungs. Donald noticed that I was shivering and told Mundi that any more pictures including me should get done first because I was dying right there. So they hurried the process up and I soon found myself huddled in the best man's jacket on a relatively comfy settee. I skipped eating because I felt it would be bad form to cough all over the buffet line. There were many hockey jokes during the toasts. I got to see the bride and groom dance, they actually went and took lessons and practiced for it. And when the maid of honor went back to pack Mundi's stuff and take it to the B&B they were spending the night at, she took me back to my room where I could die quietly until morning.

We were on the road bright and early Monday morning. The GPS was no smarter than it was on Friday, in fact it lost it's own satellite when we were in the middle of deepest darkest pennsyltucky. Fortunately that is where DH's family is from and I know my way home from there. Though the lack of that glorified pocket calculator had the maid of honor in state of perpetual panic until we got to a street she knew.

It is now two doses of nyquil and a gallon of hot coffee later, I am still in my warm leopard spotted flannel jammies, wrapped in a toastie afghan, and no longer feeling inclined to raise the jolly roger when I breath. Ash has been crawling on me to show me how nifty the kaleidoscope full of lizards and flowers I got at the Elizabethan gardens for him is. I have to go forth tomorrow to do battle with the school board on our young man's behalf. Normality returns.

NightMist

Oh, I'm sorry Nightmist. I really did try not to splutter with laughing; but I couldn't help myself. I really honestly hope that, one day, you will also be able to read your archived copies of these wedding e-mails and have a laugh yourself. It was mostly over the GPS; not the continuing misfortunes that happened to the personalities' health. You couldn't have invited such total, full scale disaster.

I do hope you are soon feeling properly better; that Ash is soon better; and that the bride and groom have happy lives together.

You all deserve something good to happen now.

(By the way, you write a rattling good yarn >gWell I am home. We got back just before midnight last night.

Thank God I only have sons.

That said, you obviously win the prize of the century -- this one and the last -- for being Best Sport Mother of the Bride and not simply screaming at everybody and chucking the whole thing for a comfy, warm, dry hotel room with a bottle of nyquil and a shot of Jack Daniels. Or two.

I'll continue sending good wishes and the like your way that you are hale and hearty by the time you engage the school board. The happiest day of my life was the day my second (and youngest) son graduated high school. It was over. They might go on to be bums or slackers or .... whatever. But I would never again have to wrestle with the demons of public education.

Good luck, congratulations, good health and blessings, Sunny

I am so SO glad I will never be the mother of a bride.

You all seem to have survived, but I am also glad when I look back that we had 62 folk in my mother's local church, followed by lunch in a pub (well, a sit down buffet lunch in a posh pub cum hotel!), stayed there the night of the wedding, and drove to Skye the following day.

My mother bought her dress for my wedding the day she went out to buy a dress for my father's funeral. She brought fabric for that and I made her a dress.

Here's hoping you and Ash and everyone recover quickly.

Yikes! Pretty much everything that could wrong did. As your story progressed, I just couldn't imagine that anything else could happen! But it did.... You poor thing!

Glad you seem to be on the mend. Hope Ash feels better soon too.

Many congrats to the bride & groom!

Best regards, Michelle in NV

That wedding makes me want to go get in the hall closet, sit down and pull the door closed behind me. Wow. It should be required reading for every bride who wants to have 'my' day. Mercy! Polly

Please consider writing a book, 'kay?

Cindy

Also. When you are recovered, please tell us about being from the north and the lycra garment you were persuaded to wear. What in the world? Polly

piggybacking here. Good golly nightmist, I sure am glad that is over. Hopefully you all will be able to look back and laugh about it all at some point. In the meanwhile I'm sending out some positive thoughts and big hugs to you. HOpe you are feeling better soon. TAria

[disaster story that was much more fun to read about than it would have been to go through]

She managed to avoid what happened at my parents' wedding, when my mother's father decided to clear out a rogue beehive in the garden on the morning of the event. The result was that everybody from that side of the family was covered in red lumps for the ceremony.

==== j a c k at c a m p i n . m e . u k === ==== Jack Campin, 11 Third St, Newtongrange EH22 4PU, Scotland == mob 07800 739 557 CD-ROMs and free stuff: Scottish music, food intolerance, and Mac logic fonts

****** I killfile Google posts - email me if you want to be whitelisted ******

On Tue, 19 May 2009 16:05:07 -0500, NightMist wrote (in article ):

Or yourself if you know where you're going. MSM had her GPS on when she drove herself to Paducah. Having been there for years for the show she knew where she was going. But GPS kept telling her she was wrong, so she listened to GPS and got hopelessly lost.

And GPS had a devil of a time finding us a Walgreen's in Paducah. We never thought it would be that difficult given that in Springfield it seems that there is one on every other corner, with a CVS across the street.

Maureen

On May 19, 5:05=A0pm, snipped-for-privacy@gmail.com (NightMist) wrote an epic novel of love's ordeals...

Wow.

I spoze I'm a map person myself, but since '95 or so, we've taken to getting routes/itineraries from any of the various trip websites. I usually opt for 2 or 3 different ones just to compare and see if one or another is more up-to-date with regard to hazards/construction/ detours, or suggets a better (for whatever reason) route. Then I bring a map along anyway... stuff happens. I have relatives who swear by AAA for the same thing, but I've never had a problem with those I got for free online. The problem I have is with my "navigator" who can't seem to follow a map to the bathroom... She once navigated us (trying to follow a map) into the backwoods mountains of Pennsyltucky where the only living thing we found to ask directions of was a rather large black bear we missed running into by inches (and we always thought deer were the worst road hazards...)

Yeah, by all means, write a book, or at least an article for posterity. Is Reader's Digest still around?

Doc

"What in the world?" was about my response too. I can only guess that the manager fancied that yankee women do formal events combat, that she is one of those elderly women who feel that the younger generation doesn't wear enough foundation garments particularly those of us in the north, or that she figured the bride was young enough to talk into an extra $20 sale.

What the garment actually is called I am not at all sure. I was so pounded I just took the tags off and put it on on Sunday. It looks for all the world like a pair of spandex bicycle shorts with the only seam being on the inside leg and having a reinforced crotch. It is

93% nylon and 7% spandex, so it is about the same fiber content as bicycle shorts too. If the jazz pants I wore in dance class were shorts they would be very nearly identical. Nothing like enough support to be in the same class as any sort of girdle.

It wasn't uncomfortable, just felt a bit odd wearing something with legs under a dress. My garter belt kept snagging on it, so I had to rearrange things a bit so that I left off the belt and had the stockings under the garment, trusting the spandex and the elastic at the top of the hose to keep them up. Fortunately that worked just fine, though I felt a bit insecure for the first few minutes.

NightMist

Well, the "spandex shorts" are called Spanx. Best invention since sliced bread, imho! Nightmist....i can sooooo sympathize with you. We had a GPS misadventure at my neice's wedding last November. I was even tempted to buy a Buick with OnStar just for the friendly person telling me where to turn next!! we got completely lost from the hotel to the church! and it was only 2 miles apart.

I hope you feel better really soon. It's no fun being sick on any day, let alone a special day like that.

amy in CNY

The minute she was far enough down the aisle to see him and he could look in her eyes, the rest of us might just as well have been in Kansas City. Those two are dead gone on each other.

They both wanted a nice wedding, though he was willing to elope to avoid the hassles with his family. Polish Catholic. I didn't realize until I was told when I got there, that one of the reasons they were able to keep the guest list down to a hundred is that half his family wouldn't come because it wasn't a "proper" wedding. Our side was just as bad really, though in a hyper-conservative protestant kind of way. I guess getting the officiant in a package deal with the cake just doesn't cut it with some people. Plus it was a woman, I think that that is going to be a nine days wonder for some of the more conservative elements that attended.(1) Personally I think being married by a pastry chef is one of the most honest moments I have witnessed in a long time.

NightMist I bet deity likes pastry

(1) That lot is going to have a lot to talk about. A bridesmaid with blue hair. Me with my nose ring. Then at the reception they were all pulling up Mundi's skirt to gawk at the diamond toe ring her new DH had given her.

Oh there is just so much to laugh at! Even when I was feeling like my lungs were going to tumble out onto my feet I could see that!

Though I really did feel for Papa's girlfriend. She really hated being used in their ongoing pettiness as much as everybody else, and was in a position to be made just that much more uncomfortable by it.

NightMist

Now see, if you use a word processer so you can spell check because your brain is full of sand and cotton and squirrel poo, you are likely going to come off looking even dimmer than you feel.

I hope I fixed it so it at least makes sense now.

NightMist

Hahahah. I bought one of those at the Dress Barn outlet store last week too!

And you're right. My very proper Southern grandmother could never get over the fact that her "northern" granddaughters did not wear proper foundation garments.

It's a Southern thing.

Cindy