Monthly Archives: June 2016

Hitched Without a Hitch

There’s an old saying, “the wedding went off without a hitch” meaning everything went as planned. There’s another saying that when a couple gets married, they get “hitched.” In the case of my daughter and son-in-law, they got hitched without a hitch.

I’ve heard so many disaster stories of weddings gone wrong. I have a friend whose cake fell apart upon delivery. Another friend got a big hug from the flower girl (who was wearing makeup) right before the wedding, leaving a lot of her makeup on the dress. In each case, the bride took it very well. They both said, “It’s OK. I’m getting married today!” I don’t think I would have handled that so well.

So many things could have gone wrong. When there are kids in a wedding, there’s always a risk that they’ll go rogue. But the flower girls and ringbearers did their jobs perfectly. Nothing fell. No one fainted. No one said “I don’t.” It’s not enough to say that nothing went wrong. I wish I could list the thousand things that went right. The weather, the pre-wedding music, the dress, the hair, the make up, the vows, the bubbles and the horse drawn carriage. The perfection spilled over to the reception with fantastic food, family and friends dancing to great music.

The bride was so much the opposite of nervous that she wanted to go out to breakfast the morning of the wedding. How many brides feel like eating a full breakfast on the wedding day?  That’s how confident she was but this was the right groom, on the right day, at the right time. We ate at The Arcade, the oldest cafe in Memphis. Unfortunately we didn’t get to sit in the Elvis booth.

arcade, Memphis, restaurant


While everything involving the bride and groom went off without a hitch, it seems that no day can be completely perfect.  There were some snags for a few of our guests.

A cousin of the bride was on a sequestered jury. We knew all week that he might not make it to the wedding. As luck would have it the jury finished deliberating just in time for him to make it. Well, he would have made it if the trial had been in Memphis. By the time the trial ended in Nashville and they drove the jury back to Memphis, he arrived just in time to miss the whole thing. We really missed him being there. The good part was that the wedding venue was close to the jury drop off location. So his family didn’t have to go far to retrieve him.

My niece, another cousin of the bride, arrived at the wedding in plenty of time to make it. But she was detained due to a fender bender in the parking lot. No one was hurt and she made it inside for most of the wedding.

When we arrived at the reception my sister, the bride’s aunt, was complaining of quite a bit of pain. She’d been having some mild pain for a couple of days but it was now kicked into high gear. Enough of us in the family have had kidney stones to recognize the signs. So we sent her off to the emergency room. Guess who drove her to the ER? The niece who had the wreck. If it’s true that lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place, then she was the safest bet!

Since my sister was all dressed up for the wedding, she got a lot of compliments in the ER about being too pretty to feel so bad. My niece had to leave her briefly. When she came back she told the staff, “I’m looking for the lady in the pretty dress who’s dying in pain.”


The lady in the pretty dress

It did turn out to be a kidney stone. A sizable one. She had it blasted a few days later and is recovering well at home as we speak… or as I write.

As far as I know, no members of the groom’s family were harmed in the making of this marriage.




It’s A Boy!


When I was in my 20s, before I had children, I didn’t have any hobbies to occupy my time. The husband had lots of interests, but I couldn’t seem to find my thing. I tried to learn to play the guitar, but my fingertips weren’t tough enough to tolerate it. Reading made me sleepy, so I never finished a book. I tried to learn to crochet. I was learning at stitch that required me to count to twelve, make a turn, then count to twelve again, over and over. I caught myself counting “seventy-one, seventy-two…” I’d counted ever so much past twelve, and had a long straight line to show for it. I gave up on crocheting. I tried to learn to sew, I only made one dress before giving up on that as well.

Eventually, my first daughter, Laura came along and there was no time to worry about hobbies anymore. Being a mother took all of my time and attention. I mean that in a good way. As it turned out, I enjoyed motherhood much more than I expected. Laura made it easy. She was an unusually happy baby. And she grew into such a smart little girl. Her vocabulary at three was bigger than most adults’. I felt that I’d finally found something I was good at. I decided I wanted four kids… two girls and two boys to be exact.

A few more years later, my second daughter, Melissa was born. She was such a sweet, cuddly baby. She grew into a shy, quiet girl who never gave us a minute of trouble. She loved playing with her sister, but could also entertain herself for hours playing in her room alone. Or reading. No one loves to read more than Melissa. I would have had ten more just like her if I could.

I planned for four, but for reasons too numerous to go into here, I never had anymore kids. It made me sad. To console myself, I said that someday my two girls would marry two boys, then I would have a complete set.

As of last night, I have my first boy! It’s a son-in-law!


I’d like to think that if I’d had a son, he’d be a lot like Chris. After all, Chris is a lot like my daughter. Alike enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her. And the ways that they’re not alike… they find those things endearing or at least tolerable! I couldn’t have picked a better husband for my daughter. He is everything that she prayed for and more. If I told you all the romantic things he has done, you wouldn’t believe me. Or you’d say that he has set the bar for romance too high for other men to reach.

Speaking of being able to reach… he’s tall! I finally have someone who can reach the stuff on the high shelves! He’s also insanely good looking. So no matter which parent my grandkids look like, they’ll be gorgeous!

We love Chris and we’re so happy to have him join our family.


Stored Treasures

I had another day to myself, but this time I didn’t spend it trying on undergarments. If you don’t understand that first sentence, you’ll have to read my previous post (read it here). This time, I spent the day cleaning out our shed. Unintentionally. The day started with a plan to retrieve my daughter’s things out of storage as she is about to move to her own house.

A little backstory… my daughter, the teacher, had been living in Knoxville since college. Last year, she decided to move back to Memphis and live here with us while saving to buy her own house. We showed up on the last day of school, moving van in tow, ready to move her out of her apartment. Due to a communication gap, we thought she was packed and ready to go, while she thought we’d pack her stuff while she worked her last day. She’d been busy with end of the year stuff (teachers know what that entails) and had not started packing. This is what we walked into…


Needless to say, packing was hurried and poorly done. Now her poorly packed boxes have been in our shed for a year collecting dust. We’re not talking about a little dust and dirt on top of boxes. We’re talking about boxes that weren’t properly sealed, sitting in an outdoor facility that doubles as a dog house. They’ve been collecting dust (and dog hair) on the inside. Some things needed to be unpacked, cleaned and repacked so that she didn’t take all that dirt into her new house. This is most of it. Note the crushed, torn open boxes, and the vacuum cleaner full of dirt.


While that may have been the plan, it quickly changed when I walked into the shed and saw the condition it was in. Of course, I’ve been in there thousands of times, but something came over me this time and I had to start organizing and cleaning.

More backstory, I’m organized, my husband is not. His lack of it is stronger than my ability to counteract his lack of it. There was no room to walk, and no possible way to get any work done in this “workshop.” Things were piled on top of things. Things were stored that should have been thrown away. As I started organizing, I found so many things that I didn’t know we had. I found yard tools that we’ve never used (when I say “we” I mean my husband). A bowling ball and shoes, who knew? I found bags of crap. I mean that both literally and figuratively. Apparently, someone cleaned up after the dogs and forgot to throw it away.

I’m nowhere near finished but here’s a before and after of just one corner…


As I’m looking at the pictures right now, I realize there’s a cooler on top of the freezer. How many times have we needed that cooler?!


Then I found this beauty under a pile of crap – not literally, this time. It may not look beautiful to you, but I can see it’s potential. I have been looking for a utility cart for my kitchen for both storage and work space. It’s been under my nose (and a lot of other stuff) all this time. It just needs is a little cleaning and painting.

You can barely see it buried in there!

So it looks like once I get my daughter moved out, I’ll be busy restoring a cart with a cooler full of something cool and then I can go bowling!


This Workout Was Brought To You By Maidenform

My daughter is getting married in two weeks. Since I had the day to myself and was needed by no one anywhere, I went out to do some mother of the bride stuff. I’d already bought my MOTB dress a couple of months ago. One of my goals was to lose about 10 pounds before the wedding, as I thought the dress would look better with a little less of me in it. Ten pounds in two months didn’t seem too lofty a goal. However, I managed to gain 5 instead.

Since there will actually be a little more of me in my dress than planned, one of my errands today was to buy shapewear. In my mother’s day, they had girdles. In my great-grandmother’s day, there were corsets. No matter what you call it, shapewear is something women wear under their clothes to make us appear more like we used to without help. We should call it reversewear.

maidenform, ubdergarments
I don’t want to embrace them, I want to hide them!

First of all, the fabric that makes shapewear do what it does is an angry bitch. Lycra seems to have a serious grudge against me even though we barely know each other. She was determined to fight me the whole way. If I was going to get this tighter-than-skin suit on, I was going to have to kill it first.

I started with what I consider to be my size. Then, I read the label and moved up to what Maidenform considers to be my size. These are one piece body shapers, by the way, much like a one-piece swimsuit or a dance leotard. I had the choice to step in or pull it over my head. I chose the pullover option. Once the angry, constrictive fabric tricked me into putting my arms in and pulling it over my head, it refused to move any further. At this point, it’s all wadded around my neck with my arms straight up in the air. I need my hands to pull down this inflexible fabric, but they’re stuck in the air at the end of my arms!

Somehow, I was able to force my arms down and started pulling this torture device down my body, one millimeter at a time. Once it covered everything it was supposed to cover, I took a look in the mirror. I was red all over from stuffing myself like a sausage into a casing. I was exhausted from the workout and starting to sweat. But that’s not the worst of it. Despite being only 5’2″, I have an oddly long torso. The body shaper has a built-in bra but it is so short on my long body that the bra is at my waist. UGH! That’s not gonna hold anything up!

I apologize for not having pictures to go along with this, but… NO! There will be no visuals of this acrobatic contortion act or the waist lifting bra.

Unfortunately, I went up one more size. A size that I have never worn, Ever. Last year, I lost SEVENTY pounds. At my highest weight, I didn’t wear the size that I bought today. At my previous weight, I imagine that my size in shapewear would have resembled the marquis at a dirty book store.
Shopping for shapewear is not for sissies. It’s also not for those with low self-esteem or anyone who hangs her self worth on a clothing tag. If you’re going to visit the mean streets of the lingerie department, arm yourself with double-barrelled self confidence and a side arm of badass. Like I said, Lycra is a bitch.