Quite the productive weekend
We done got Cicada and Murray hitched this weekend (to each other, as planned, rather than to other people, which would have been awkward). It was all quite nice. Expect stories, for there are several. In fact, Daltongirl and I are going to be guest blogging over at Cicada Song this week while the happy couple are honeymooning in Costa Rica. So you won't even have to wait until they get back to get answers to these and other pressing questions:
What did Cicada's dress look like?
What bit of inspired advice from the temple officiator left Daltongirl and me raising both eyebrows?
Which newlywed couple went AWOL between the ceremony and the reception, causing Jenny and me to get this scene from Arrested Development stuck in our heads?
Who narrowly escaped death in the reception hall kitchen?
Stay tuned.
I believe, though, that the weekend accomplishment which brought me the most pride had nothing to do with the wedding. Sunday morning little Ethan saw me cutting up some brie (leftovers from the reception) and asked for a taste. I gave him a tiny piece, figuring he would hate it just as he hates all other Foods Which Are Not Tikka Masala. Because seriously. This kid will act like you're trying to poison him when you give him kid-friendly items, but take him into the Indian Oven and he'll eat everything on his plate and then lunge for yours in the manner of a rabid stoat.
I gave Ethan the brie, figuring he would spit it out, give me a dirty look, and then head into the guest room to urinate on my pillow. But he didn't. He asked for more, and when I gave him a bigger slice he crammed the thing into his mouth.
This was pretty much the proudest moment of my life. My nephew loves brie. He will grow up and I will invite him to my Pride & Prejudice parties where we will eat the brie together. And possibly I'll get him a French aristocrat costume for next year's Halloween.
Aaaand that was the sound of my father falling off his chair, clutching his left arm.
I'm Steph, a librarian and mom of 3 (not sure how that happened). Let's chat books, food, Sumptuous Literary Adaptations, poop, knitting and maybe some crazy Mormon Feminism.
12 comments:
Ethan is so awesome. I'm excited to hear your version of the wedding!
And you all sang happy birthday to me. That was the highlight of my weekend!
I cannot wait to hear what the temple officiator said. There were moments in my brother's ceremony in which I seriously had to Control. The. Rage. You know, since I'm one of those bitter single gals who should just pin her hopes on being a GA's second wife or picking from all the plague victims in the afterlife or something. Anyway, can't wait!
Ethan IS so awesome. Good job producing him!
Aw . . . Miss Hass, I wish I could have been at your birthday party! And I'm sorry Savvy decided to be All Coy instead of singing.
Scully, I don't think it could have been as bad as whatever your brother's sealer said (which, hi, now you have to tell me), but it was still pretty great.
I came home once to just empty package where my imported $12/pound Gruyere cheese used to be. Where is the cheese? I asked.
“Oh,” said my husband, “Our 2 year old really liked it, so I gave it all to him.”
Me, "......."
Wow, Azucar.
WOW.
I think both my eyelids had spasms when I read that.
My sister's sealer somehow worked the word "wetbacks" into their ceremony. I am a Spanish teacher. This, as you can imagine, did not sit well with me. Seriously, WETBACKS?
Also, Azucar, that is not right. I might just head home and make myself a Gruyere grilled cheese and caress it for a little while, so that it knows exactly how much I cherish it.
Holy CRAP, Audrey, are you serious?? I am racking my brains to think of what part of the temple ceremony necessitates a racist reference to Latinos and I'm really coming up short, here.
And sadly I also can't think of a way for one to raise one's hand during the proceedings and say, "Excuse me, could you please not be racist?"
You correctly surmised my reaction to your wholly inapproriate behavior and improper influences to the young and highly impressionable mind of a male child. You will he held accountable! Go corrupt somebody else's kid.
Oh. One more thing. If I were Ed, you would not be allowed any more unsupervised visits with Ethan.
I don't remember the exact words, Nem, seeing as how the blinding rage got in the way, but the guy went on and on about how Mime and Mrs. Mime were taking the step that would ensure them eternal life and that without it no one can get anywhere. Which didn't go over well with me or with my 35 year-old single aunt whose boyfriend wouldn't make up his mind. Incidently he did make up his mind and they are happily married and expecting their first child. And their officiator was much, much cooler and actually had wise words of advice. So there you go.
"I think both my eyelids had spasms when I read that."
Likewise. But it did remind me I want to try the "Pushing Daisies" pear pie with Gruyère baked into the crust.
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