The Wedding -- Day Two

There were about twenty of us at the rehearsal dinner, if you count all the rugrats. The last rehearsal dinner I went to they served eighty some people and I got up and sang a little ditty, accompanied by the piano guy who kept me on key. I wrote the lyrics to the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas. This was for a couple that had been dating for over six years and feted with about eighteen parties ahead of time. It was the second marriage for both. She wore white again. Hundreds came to the reception. The marriage lasted eight months.

Where was I?

My little niece, who was wearing a cute-as-pie herring bone skirt with matching hat that she didn't like very much, was reminded that I'm her Auntie Grandma. Since I only get to see her every few months or so. she's at the stage where I'm a brand new relative every time. Especially since I never look the same. Last night was a bad hair day on top of it all. 

I could see her brain trying to process the concept of Auntie Grandma as if it didn't make a lot of sense, so I asked her what her favorite color was to keep her from breaking down in sobs. [Just kidding.]  She actually thought about it for a few seconds and said, I like purple. Only it came out sounding more like POORPLE.  Then she pointed to her sippy cup and said, "Like my milk." But she didn't really mean her milk, she meant her sippy cup.  Luckily one of her grandmas was there to correct this error and she said, "Not my milk, my sippy cup." 

These are the kinds of conversations I will be having most of the weekend. I hope. She also announced, "I think I'm happy."  Out of the blue.  I asked her what a happy face looked like.  Big smile and crinkled up eyes. Then she did a sad face, then angry. Then I made a funny face and she made a funny face. And nobody was taking pictures. Damn.

The food was great. Fried calamari, neopolitan pizza, some kind of mozzarella and greens for appetizers.  The bread was great,  served with olive oil and a side dish of parmesan. My salad was spinach with blood oranges, goat cheese, and walnuts in a light vinaigrette. I ordered duck that arrived with a polenta like Italian cornbread thing ladled on the side.  That duck was good.  The 16 year old niece sitting next to me said she thought duck was just another version of chicken. And pork is the other white meat. She ordered veal hockey puck or whatever they call it when it's pounded, breaded, cheesed and slathered in marinara.

I couldn't tell she was sixteen until she told me. Bleached blond hair will do that. She's at an age that looks anywhere from 14 to 25 depending on the outfit. Turns out we're both softball players. Well, I used to be anyway. She was built like a catcher, but I ddin't want to bring that up. So I asked if she played infield. For some reason instead of asking if she was a shortstop or a third baseman, I said "Second base?"  That's such an insult. She said "Third base."  So I recovered nicely with "You must have a good arm."  Just not good enough to be a short stop. [No, I didn't say that out loud.]

I also didn't ask her any Don Imus questions, like how many of her teammates were gay, because they usually don't come out in high school. Recently, a friend of mine and I reminisced about an All Star team we played on years ago  One of our pitchers became a big deal at Time Magazine, the publisher or something. Gay. No, she's gay? Somebody else was running an ad agency. Gay. Really? I didn't know. We went around all the positions and realized we were the only two straight women on the team. Not that there's anything WRONG with being straight and playing sports.

I went through the same thing when I was catching up with my younger daughter about her former teammates on her basketball and soccer teams. How's cute Katie? Gay. No. And Marsha? Gay. Etc., etc.

My stepmother wasn't sure how to get home so I let her follow me. I stayed in the right lane so I wouldn't lose her. But have you noticed the ruts that trucks make. The left lane isn't only faster, it's way smoother. In fact, why don't they use a tougher asphalt for the right lane, since the vehicles are so much heavier. Why do I bring this stuff up?

Anyway, my stepmom is brilliant, but she doesn't process directions very well.  She took the long way to the rehearsal -- an hour's drive.  The faster, more complicated way takes half the time, but you have to make three cloverleaf turns one after another which have you going in one direction, then turning in the opposite direction, then heading in a third direction -- which she [and lots of others] couldn't compute. She's just getting used to a cellphone and hasn't mastered email, so why risk sensory overload?

Did I get to dessert yet? No. Tiramisu for me. I couldn't finish it and sadly it wouldn't fit in my purse. One of the grandmas had creme brulee. Some kind of chocolate ganache cake was popular with the younger peeps.  Did I mention all the red and white wine? I have now. And this morning they all gathered for breakfast. I'm still digesting last night. Only 10,000 calories to go.

Okay, I've only got five hours to get ready for the wedding. I better get started.