When our youngest son, Blake, got
married, he & his wife eloped to Las Vegas.
Not to sneak by us—we loved his wife--& still do. I guess they didn’t want all the fancy
trappings that go with a formal wedding.
Soon after their return we threw them a wedding reception. I decided I had a right to see them get
married, so I performed a wedding ceremony. (No, I am not a minister.) It was short & went something like this:
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to reunite this man & this
woman in holy matrimony. Please join
hands. Diane, do you promise to love
& honor Blake & to let him have the TV remote control? ‘I do.’
Blake, do you promise to love & honor Diane & to put the toilet
seat down? ‘I do.’ I now re-pronounce you husband & wife. You may kiss the bride!” They were later married (again!) in a
Catholic church in Florida, where her family lives. We had not met her family before. At the reception at her sister’s home her
father told me that he & his wife loved our Blake the first moment they met
him. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m
going to say until it comes out of my mouth.
What came out was, “Really? What
do you think of him now?”
He & his brother once bought
me a VERY LARGE toy stuffed reindeer for Christmas. They bought it in San Francisco & brought
it down on the plane with them. It was
too large to be wrapped & they didn’t want to send it through baggage. It wouldn’t fit in the overhead & they
didn’t want to have it in their laps, so they did the only reasonable (?)
thing. They bought him a ticket. “Rodney” was strapped into a seat & a
passenger asked the flight attendant if she would move him so he could sit
there. She laughed & told him, “I’m
sorry, sir, but the reindeer has a ticket.”
They showed me their copy. On it
was “Passenger’s name: Reindeer, Rodney”.
Rodney Reindeer
My family has always expressed
emotion physically. We practically
kissed each other goodbye when we went to the bathroom. I had to teach my husband to become a “hugger”
when we got married. (He already knew
how to kiss.) I guess I created a
monster. When Blake was about 2, I was
standing at the sink preparing dinner. (YES,
I used to make dinner!) He pointed to my
leg & asked, “Dat yours?” I told him
yes. He pointed to my arm & said,
“Dat yours?” Yes, again. He then pointed to my breast & asked,
“Dat Daddy’s?”
Blake was 49 this year. I am 36. The best way to explain this anomaly is to tell you about something that I read in one of Kirk Douglas’ books. A “senior” movie actress was being interviewed. The reporter said, “Forgive me, Madame, but I have to ask. Your son (who was also a star) admits to being 56. You claim to be 63. How can this be?” Her answer (& mine): “He has his life—I have mine!”
----The “forever young” fishducky
PS--If you didn't get enough laughs today, read Melynda's books--JUST NONSENSE & MORE NONSENSE. Funny stuff!!
Being computer illiterate, I don't know how to put the stuff that goes with this button into my post but I DO want to support her!! You can enter through Elisa's post (THE CRAZY LIFE OF A WRITING MOM) or Janie Junebug's post (WOMEN: WE SHALL OVERCOME).
PS--If you didn't get enough laughs today, read Melynda's books--JUST NONSENSE & MORE NONSENSE. Funny stuff!!
Being computer illiterate, I don't know how to put the stuff that goes with this button into my post but I DO want to support her!! You can enter through Elisa's post (THE CRAZY LIFE OF A WRITING MOM) or Janie Junebug's post (WOMEN: WE SHALL OVERCOME).