A wedding in 36 hours

I was married young. I am thirty years old and just celebrated my tenth wedding anniversary. Really, really young. Sometimes I tell Jared that it is sheer luck that despite our age and the general dumbness that accompanies that part of one’s life, we married the right person. Lucky, lucky, that’s what I say.

Because of this, I strictly forbade any of my sisters to even think about getting married before the age of twenty five. They all signed the contract in blood and thanked me for hard earned wisdom. Or they walked out of the room before I finished my thought. One of those ways, for sure.

So when my little sister called me Wednesday of last week and told me she was going to get married on Friday, I couldn’t argue. She is past the 25 mark. They really love each other. We all love her Ryan. He really loves her son. We all love his family. Really, there was far too much love going on to be anything but happy. Her original plan was the classic courthouse move, but as evidenced by this blog, our family likes a party. So we planned a wedding in 36 hours.

It was beautiful. A family effort. We cleaned multiple stores out of candles, and filled the place with pumpkins and leaves. My sister got to catering, my sister in law got to flower arranging, and my brother got to anything and everything that was asked of him. The music was provided by my grandma, who played the piano like an angel. One of my sister’s best friends happens to be an official officiate. My cousin had his camera in his car, so poof, photographer. Her mother in law has a salon so the wedding party prepped there. My mom made the wedding cake and Christi and Thomas brought everyone’s favorite salad. Everything just worked.

I don’t have many pictures, not even one of the groom, because I was too busy enjoying the wedding and trying to help everyone make sure that our candle wonderland didn’t turn into a raging house fire with the assistance of five crazy boys under the age of five.

She was beautiful. There were tears during their sweet, impromptu vows. So perfect. Happy marriage little sis! I hope you enjoy many holidays, weekdays and even sick but not very sick days. I hope that when you wake up, even on those crummy days, you look at each other and realize you have someone on your side, always.

If all dogs go to heaven, where do song birds, turtles and chickens go?

My family has a horrible history with pets. Horrible. In fact, if you are a sensitive and good human being, you might want to click off of this post. Growing up we had so many animals and I can't think of a single one that died of natural causes. Let's journey through a few of the particularly traumatizing, shall we?

The Bird. There was only ever one bird, for good reason, so it gets to be The Bird. Say it out loud. The tone required is one of solemnity. The Bird incident occurred when I was too little to really understand, but I think it still haunts my poor Mom. The Bird had a cage but was occasionally allowed to fly around our little apartment. Try not to think of it as unhygienic. Think Snow White. There is my drop dead gorgeous Mom with a few kids in a sunny little apartment whistling some pretty tune, actually probably REO Speedwagon, with a cute little bird tweeting along. Except one day she gets to the chorus, "Heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend who..." And suddenly she realizes she's singing solo. Maybe the bird got out? Maybe it flew off to be with bird friends in this great big world? Maybe.. 


AHHHHHH! That's right when my Mom, who was doing dishes, stuck her hand in the disposal to find out what was plugging up the water from draining. Little free bird got it's foot caught when it flew down to check out what that black hole in the sink was. Along came Cindy White to do dishes..need I say more?

Turtle. My brother came home with more than one abandoned animal from the park near our house. The turtle was one of these rescued creatures. It was dinner plate sized and pretty exotic to us children. You can't really love on a turtle, at least in any natural way I'm aware of, so the turtle lived a nice solitary life in the backyard. Apparently the turtle didn't share our view of nice and solitary. It tried to make a break for it. We were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when my brother's cereal spoon stopped mid route from bowl to mouth. 


"Hey, is that the turtle?" We all look out the window and yup, it was the turtle. Halfway up the fence. Yeah, our turtle from the park could apparently climb fences. We pulled her/him/it down but it had a wild heart. The next time we found the turtle after a few days absence, it had made it all the way down the side driveway and out into the street. That was the last time we were able to rescue turtle. We never saw it again. I like to think it made it all the way to turtle paradise. We all like to think that. 


Cluck aka Rover. Cluck was our chicken, at least in body. Another park rescue, Cluck thought she was a dog. She would tap on the back door when she wanted out and tap to get back in. She loved to sit on your lap and be cuddled. Cluck had a little doggy brain. Cluck even liked to chase our cat around the backyard. Thing is, we already had a dog to do that. With the cat chasing duties stolen out from under his nose, the dog decided the only right thing to do would be to chase the chicken. 


One fine day when the stars were aligned just right, a few select members of our family were able to witness the dog chasing the chicken who was chasing the cat. The parade ran to the fence where the cat leaped to the top in perfect form. The chicken flapped it's wings and was able to get about a foot off the ground which was the perfect height for the dog, who was coming at it full speed, to slam into it, nose stuck in bum. Paper, or rather screen, doesn't do the scene justice. The family members just stood in silence as the poor dog freaked out. Then they probably turned to each other to make sure it was real. It was that good. No animal was physically damaged from this event. Psychologically, that dog was never the same.


Cluck's demise was discovered New Year's Eve when we were setting up the trampoline Santa had brought. My sister went to kick a patch of snow but it wasn't a patch of snow. The neighbor's dog had finally made it into the back yard. That was one of the few times I saw tears in my Dad's eyes. He carried it, stiff as a board through the house by it's feet while all of his little kids trailed behind him. We walked through the living room past my Mom who called out "What is that?" "It's Cluck," we all whispered, "Cluck is dead." Straight out to the dumpster. Straight in. 


I think there was revenge talk of poisoning the neighbor dog but we were just trying to make our Dad feel better. 


Thing is, I don't want to repeat that history. So when Jared came home with three of these the other day, I panicked. 

Our new neighbor's dog was trained in duck hunting. My two year old doesn't get that they aren't just noisy toys. I have a freaking cat. Lord bless these sweet ducks until I can get Jared to list the suckers on Craigslist. 

My Grandpa was a college stud. I should have known.

This weekend

-I learned my baby loves a good football game. We took Phin to his first one. It was awesome. I totally envisioned him sticking nacho in someone’s hair, screaming through the whole third quarter, throwing his shoe/cup/spit wad at the mascot but hitting someone with much better seats and other horrible toddler things. Didn’t happen. Somehow all of his clothes stayed on his body and our seat neighbors left unscathed and uncheesed. Which is good because we have season passes so we’re going to see those suckers for five more games.

I think all the commotion overwhelmed him so he was happy to sit on my lap for 3 plus hours and wave at pretty, older chicks. And by older I mean nine to ten. (Don’t think I didn’t catch that Phin. My hawk eyes miss nothing. Nothing.) So we’re going back. Let’s hope the magic that is called sensory overload doesn’t wear off because I plan on getting my fill of stadium food between now and December third.  I salute the cheesy pretzel and ultimate nacho.

-I learned my husband wishes he could play college ball. File this under things about Lesco that really surprise me. Like the time he told me he hopes we own horses someday. And how he wouldn’t mind riding lessons before then. Whaaaa…?

-I learned my Grandpa played college football. Then when he got bored of that he switched to college basketball. Which was considerably less boring in his personal opinion. So I googled him and found some records he set while in a fraternity. Go Grandpa.

-I learned that cookie dough cheesecake bars are the bomb. If you don’t mind diabetic shock. YUMMY!!!

-I did not learn that soup potlucks are also of bomb nature, duh, but I did learn that my stomach has an unusually large soup holding capacity. Could totally turn this into a money making opportunity. Is the circus sideshow employment office open today? Or do they have limited daytime hours?

-I learned that some stores suck. I also learned that this can be beneficial. Jo-Ann fabric was clearancing out all their Halloween and Thanksgiving stuff and throwing Christmas  up on the front shelves. Uh what? I’ll take myself a turkey at 60 percent off but that holiday is still a month and a half away. So while I hate them for rushing through my beloved fall, I love them for giving me a deal on my Halloween party décor. I love you! I hate you! Let’s make out! Logical, right?

-I learned that there is no way to keep silk un-wrinkly on my body for more than three point five minutes unless I stand perfectly still. Which I am incapable of unless I’m in one of those chamber things that puts you to sleep and wakes you up in five hundred years when everyone chooses their body from a catalog and eats dots ice cream. It really is the dessert of the future.

So awesome weekend for me. Ya’all learn anything you want to pass along? Dooo it!

Yesterday I saw a baby. Being born.

That's right. And I took pictures of it too. My sister in law had her perfect little boy in the four o'clock hour of yesterday morning. It was a long night but I'm so lucky they included me. Naturally, I have lots to say on the subject. Just as naturally, I haven't written it yet. Just in case you were wondering, I am not going to give you a rundown of her labor. Not my story to share. 

Here is a picture of beautiful little Desi. One I don't think my sister in law will mind me putting up.

Are you in love? 

My Na

My sister Na (Renee, but I don't know the last time I called her that) was next in the birthday line. My Sha na is one of my favorite people in the whole world. It's so easy to be with your sister/best friend. I'm in a listing mood so check it, things you can do with your sister, if your sister was my Na.

1)Sit on the grass/bench/curbing and judge the public's fashion choices. We're nice and quiet so no hurt feelings. And we almost always end up with grass stains or wet derrieres so karma doesn't let us escape unscathed. If you can't shake your head at front butt with your sis, what do you have?

2)Take 10,000 photos. You want a photo shoot partner? Call my sister. Camera whoring will commence. There will be duck face. There might be jazz hands. We'll probably argue over who gets to stand on the left.

3)Eat Asian food. You think you can do this with anyone? Fine, you can, but it won't be the same. We have favorite waiters at favorite restaurants. We know what the other person orders. Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese, Indian. And we always share appetizers. Gah, we're so worldly.

4)Steal each others clothes. You might be able to convince me the whole reason God decided to create sisters is so they could double their closets. He wants us to be happy, right? Too sacrilegious? Probably, but it's true. I dare you to disagree with me. Wait, I take that back. But if you had a Na, you'd know I speak the truth.

5)You always have a singing buddy. If I feel like belting Friends in Low Places at the top of my lungs, Na's got my back. And we do the best version of The First Noel at Christmas. We'll invite you to our open house this year, but bring your tissue. It's touching.

I will go on. We find magic shoes. We can watch Law and Order marathons all afternoon. She'll recreate Starbucks Caramel Apple Cider for me if it's not available. We tell each other secrets. She gave me a foot massage while I was in labor in the hospital. She helped my husband with my wedding ring. She'll watch White Christmas with me..or not. We have a pact to buy up all the houses in our favorite neighborhood. She loves my baby.

Sisters are presents you aren't always nice too but they forgive you anyways and then will tell you if you have a booger. And even if they're prettier than you, they'll tell you the wish they had your body. But with only half the butt.

Happy Birthday my Shanana. I love you.



Also, sisters don't mind when you hijack their birthday post to stick a couple more pics of you favorite dress up. Cause I love it when Lesco takes decent pics. We make out to celebrate so it's a win win.