02 October 2006

"I feel a blog coming on..."

This is a comment my mother said in reference to my profusion of keystrokes in regards to what she was anticipating as my reaction to the previous weekend. And why is that? Why, this past weekend was Rinestone Grandma's wedding.
My grandma married someone, yes, but that is not all. The man she married is 18 years younger than she and is also my father's employee.
It is a strange thing seeing your grandmother getting married. I was happy for her; happy that she has found companionship; happy that she got to have fun planning her wedding; happy that she found joy again. However, there is also another side of me that was just feeling sort of outside of myself--watching the situation--feeling the entire thing was just incomprehensible and very odd and weird. I was playing music for the wedding at the same piano where I also played for my grandfather's funeral. In fact, it was one of the last times I played that particular piano and played piano in general.
Grandma looked hot, I have to say. More like 50 than 73. She wore a gorgeous lilac colored gown ala 1940's style with mermaid seams and beautiful beading (I couldn't tell if there were rinestones, but there were definately sequins). She had a cute, little barrette in her hair and lots of jewelry and all of that. It was a rather unemotional wedding (this I compare to my own wedding in which I was sobbing so hard I literally almost couldn't make it through my own vows). No one cried or anything. We played a lot of the old fashioned dance music and music from musicals (that's kind of redundant to say, isn't it?), etc, etc. I sang Someone to Watch over Me, which has to be one of my favorite songs EVER. When you sing in Mott no one will look at you, giving you the impression that they are mortified that you are singing, but then afterwards, you can't get away from anyone for all of the compliments and congratulations you will receive. It must be a German Russian thing, I don't know.
Anyway, back to the wedding. My friend, Matt, who is acquainted with all parties involved in this wedding, gave us the idea that we should decorate the semi-truck that Frank, the groom, drives for my dad. So, we did. My siblings and husband painted the windows, tied on paper wedding bells, etc, etc. And we picked them up after the wedding in the semi. I thought that grandma would be filled with much consternation, but instead, she just laughed and laughed and then climbed right in like it was nothing.
There was an indicent at the wedding between the two families. Well, more like between grandma and one of her new step-sons. Grandma insisted that there would be no high-chairs for the babies at the reception. Well, lots of people had little kids, so they tried to bring their own, and she wouldn't allow it. So, some of the family members became UPSET and LEFT the reception, to which my grandmother replied "They need to grow up."
This was no small affair. There was the wedding, then we paraded down mainstreet (following the semi, of course, which is affectionately known as Ozzie) honking horns, then out to the reception hall for the dinner. And there was the kissing and the cake (with pillars and a fountain), the matching purple and lilac decorations, the guest book, the host couples, the dance, the whole nine yards. And, according to Hettinger County standards, they are officially married by virtue of having the Chicken Dance performed and participated in.
I had an overly-large amount of involvement in this wedding b/c not only did I do a lot of the music, but I also made up gift baskets for the attendants (yes, there were attendants). So, for the past 9 months I was getting intermittently nagged from grandma about practicing music and getting the gift baskets done. The most frustrating thing was that she didn't seem to be able to accept certain things about the timing of these items and would forget most of what I would tell her in regards to this, so it lead to redundant nagging with me trying to remind her of past conversations, the results of previous naggings. Anyway, I hate nagging. If there is one thing you should know about me, it is that nagging will get you absolutely nowhere. I don't require nagging. I am 99% of the time plenty self-motivated to get tasks completed without your help. Well, if there is one thing that you need to know about my grandma it is that she is a control freak. Therefore, she delegates and doesn't REALLy delegate, if you know what I mean. And I know that I wasn't the only person experiencing this phenomenon. EVERYONE involved in the wedding in any regards (even my mother, who was her "Personal Representative" [yes!--and no, I have no idea what that means]) was experiencing The Nagging. Sigh....I think a lot of people were experiencing the following emotions in regards to the wedding being completed: 1) relief, 2) emotional exhaustion 3) hysterical laughter.
Well, after The Highchair Peacetalks (my mom and dad trying to smooth things over with the grooms family), my sister (after several dixie cups full of merlot) said "Let's short sheet their bed!" to my mother, myself, and my sister-in-law.
This was the most hilarious thing we could ever have thought of (this is after several ice cream drinks, a White Russian, and something else I can't remember). Except the most funny thing is that my mom was the only person who knew HOW to perform this action. And the even funnier thing than that is that she did NOT hesitate for a moment to start figuring out how we could get away with this.
So, picture, my friends, what Rinestone Grandma's bed looks like. It is a virtual mountain of mattresses upon which are the tightest, crispest, most wrinkle-free sheets and blankets you can imagine, put on the bed in the most meticulous way. She puts the army to SHAME!
So, after figuring out an alibi, convincing grandma to give us her housekeys, and driving all the way into town, there are the four of us in the bedroom looking at the bed, and it went something like this:
"How are we going to do this?"
"I don't know..."
"We have to remember exactly how it looks like. Let's just take a moment to look at the bed and figure out the order of everything."
"Ok. First is the teal pillow, the the light blue, the other teal. In front of that is the peach and the teddybear."
"Yes, Put them over there on the floor in that exactly formation."
"Ok, so this is how you do the shortsheeting. [insert explanation here]."
"Mom, that sheet is not tight enough. And it isn't centered. You need to bring it over an inch towards Angie's side."
"Ok, that's better."
"Oh, I am making foot marks on the carpet. She's going to notice all of the foot marks on the carpet, and she's going to know that we were here."
"Well, try not to walk around so much."
"Ok, now, that blanket.....that blanket was down further--maybe another six inches."
"Now, how do we get these corners so perfect on the end of the bed?"
"How are we going to get this HUGE comforter to fit on such a small bed?"
This was work, people. This was serious business.
And after all of that--do you know what we got? Absolutely NO reaction from the newlyweds. Which leads me to conclude....maybe they haven't been to bed yet?
Gross.....gross.gross.gross.
[aside]
Speaking of gross, I had a really terrible cough when we got to my parent's house. And with my parents, grandparents, and others there offering solutions to the cough, somehow my husband blurted out "Do you want some Vic's Vaporub." To which my mother replied "Why, do you want to rub it all over her chest????"
Who says something like that?
Gross.......
Anyway, they are hitched now, the wedding is over, and everyone can go on with their lives. I wish you call could've been there.

2 Comments:

Blogger Kiersten H. said...

Sounds like a very...exciting and exasperating time. YEA!!!

7:21 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

i peed my pants a little when i read this...especially the footprint part. i wish that would've been captured on film. i still can't believe g-ma didn't say anything...i'm still a little perturbed about that.

3:46 PM  

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