March 2014

Did I mention my daughter is getting married? That’s right! In less than 7 months she will tie the knot. I hear it takes a year to plan a wedding, so I’m starting what – 5 months in the hole? To make matters worse, the wedding is taking place 8 or so States Northeast of me. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to plan a wedding with only 6.5 months left, from 8 States away?! Oh, one more thing. In case you hadn’t heard, they say it costs $10,000 to get married these days. WHAT?!

Can anyone tell me who ‘they’ are? When you finish explaining, please help me re-locate my credit card so I can do my part to drive this country even further towards financial ruin.

Okay, I admit it. This post isn’t really about my daughter’s wedding, it’s about me. Because everything is about me, all the time, right? Of course, right.

Therefore, in the spirit of “it’s-all-about-meeee” (you have to sing it to get the full effect) I have decided to unveil my idea for the perfect wedding venue: our backyard. Seriously. I am convinced that our backyard is THE perfect spot for my daughter to get married. Truly idyllic.

Welcome to my version of The Wedding Venue Blues, a short list of great reasons why my backyard is the perfect venue for my daughter’s wedding:

1. Wildlife abounds

We have gaggles of turkeys ~~stealing food from the cardinals~~ cruising our yard daily. My next-door neighbor buys corn especially for the ~~miscreants~~ darlings, guaranteeing they will stop by each and every morning. While I sing the praises of toms flaunting their feathers before the hens, my husband claims they poop disease all over the yard; and, since we’re 10 feet inside the city limits, we aren’t actually allowed to kill one for Thanksgiving dinner … whatever. Aren’t they adorbs?

TN Turkey

Skunks are literally everywhere in my little town. If I’m not running over one in my car, I’m inhaling the sexy musky aroma whenever I open a window. What wedding would be complete without our furry tuxedo’ed friends? As one YouTube Source put it “Pepe le Pew is Odor-able!” True, true.
Vultures are a local icon. I have friends who take pride in the fact that our little Nashville suburb suffers very few long-decaying animals due to the enormous vulture population. Now tell me, what wedding party wouldn’t enjoy a nice Bevy of Buzzards? Doves, schmuvs!
Plenty of wasps, hornets, Japanese beetles, and mosquitoes ~~invade~~ enjoy the bounty in my yard all summer long. Just imagine the loveliness created by these insects as they perform their acrobatic dances amidst the lightening bugs, all the while being picked off one-by-one by our friendly, local bats! Who needs hanging candles or tiki torches when nature is right outside the back door, ready and willing to light up our lives?

2. My backyard comes with built-in rustic seating and a custom dance floor

The previous owners of my little cottage believed in using natural ~~boulders~~ rocks as borders around the plethora of gardens. (Did you see how I found a way to use ‘plethora’ in this post? Skill people, skill.) These rocks vary in both shape and size, helping to accommodate all of the guests (both large and small), and they come complete with ~~painful~~ angled edges and plenty of soft moss to give everyone that cushion-y feel we all love in a fine seat.
As an added bonus, in the little town where I live, if you want to hit solid rock, you simply dig an inch or so into the ground, anywhere, and VOILA, rock-face! It will be a ~~nightmare~~ simple task to remove the top layer of Bermuda ~~shiz~~ grass from my yard to produce an instant stone floor on which the Bride and Groom can boogie into their new life together!
Of course, what wedding party would be complete without a pavilion? Fortunately for me, several large oaks and hickory nut trees provide all of the ~~head injuries~~ shade and weather protection one could hope for. Besides, by the time September comes, all of those loose nuts should have fallen already (crazy relatives not-withstanding).

3. Finally, my backyard neighbor will provide entertainment FOR FREE

At all times of the day or night I hear ~~horrific noises~~ lovely tunes ~~blasting~~ emanating from my neighbor’s boombox located inside his concrete garage/driveway ensemble (when he is not revving his motorcycle engine at 2 a.m., that is). The ~~annoyingly ugly~~ stately structure provides the perfect wedding backdrop all the while managing to enhance the ~~horse-sized~~ charming black dune buggy trailer in the driveway. Because my neighbor’s lot sits higher than my backyard, all anyone will hear are bass guitar licks, drums beating loud enough to shake the shingles off my roof, and the ~~frequent~~ occasional f-bomb lacing his rebel-screamer-country-rock/rap music. Oh, and when he tries to ~~belt it out~~ sing along – ooohh, shivers, I tell you, right up my spine! Perfect for dancing the night away, I think! At the very least, everyone will have a great reason to drink a little more than usual. Always a plus whenever in-laws are gathered together in one place. 😉
Let’s not forget the possibility of a dune buggy ride in between musical sets for all our guests, especially those who appreciate the brand new Ah-ooga horn on my neighbor’s latest rebuilt toy which he prefers to ~~show off~~ share with us in those quiet moments of peace I savor after work each evening and on Saturday mornings. Sleeping in is overrated, don’t you think?.

Who says a wedding has to cost $10,000??! Pshaw! Besides all the free stuff I’m getting, consider the other amazing benefits I’ll enjoy:

Food and drink for all the wedding guests? $56.78 (thanks to Food Saver coupons!)
Airfare from D.C. to Nashville for Bride and Groom? $745.98 (at least I won’t have to walk through TSA’s x-ray scanner anytime soon!)
Hearing all 87 of my daughter’s wedding guests tell the asshat behind me where to shove his music?

Priceless!

This view from my back porch doesn’t scream “wedding” at you, huh? Maybe I can get asshat to drape flowers over the horse box … ? No, probably not.

What I affectionately refer to as the horse box.

I turned 50 last week. For many, this event would mark an important milestone. For me it passed by virtually unnoticed. The suitcase I carried to my sister’s funeral still sits in a corner of my bedroom. I have thought about putting it away a hundred times, but putting it away would mean unpacking, and what would be the point? You see, after my sister’s funeral service, my brother-in-law encouraged me to pick out some of her clothes to take with me. I knew it was silly. She and I could not have been built any differently. My sister was a wisp, and me? Well, let’s just say I have always been “solid”. I don’t mind my size (anymore), but the reality is that everything in the suitcase is too small to fit.

Ironically, all of the shoes are too big.

The point of unpacking would be to actually wear the clothes in the suitcase. Instead I am holding onto the items that I hope will fit my daughter. One thing I plan to keep is my sister’s black down vest. I wore it for about a week, but I could not zip it up if I had on more than a lightweight blouse. The Polar Vortex of 2014 made such clothing untenable, so the vest is now on top of the suitcase where my cat, Ian, has taken to sleeping. Looks to me like he found just the right combination of soft and warm.

My kitty at peace ... with my sister's memory. — I get it, buddy. I want to get as close to her as I can, too.

Grief makes a strange companion for me. Sanguines are not usually given to bouts of depression or morose thoughts. I am not sure what to make of the gentle waves of sadness that roll over me when I least expect it. Other times the pain comes as a swift punch in the gut, knocking the wind right out of me. In those moments it feels like she just died all over again.

Supposedly grief comes in stages but I cannot remember what they are. I only know that last week my 50th birthday came and went without a card or call from my Big Sis. In fact, I could not remember the last time she had been able to send a card or call me on my birthday, thanks to the ravaging effects of dementia — only one of the illnesses that took her from us. This year I had to face the hardest truth: I would never receive a birthday card or call from her again.

Probably the best birthday ever was the year that we gave one other the same card!! My sister and I were both in the habit of purchasing birthday cards and gifts way early. Her birthday was in January and mine is in March. That year I had found her card in probably June. It was such an incredibly funny and appropriate card that I could not resist the urge to tell her how perfect her next birthday card would be. She did not hesitate to inform me that she too had found the perfect card for my birthday. One of us joked about how funny it would be if we had bought each other the same card! She kept the secret for 2 whole months but we laughed about it for years to come. You’ve heard the saying, “Great minds think alike”? Well, that was a case of kindred hearts.

What do you do when a piece of your heart gets ripped out? I find it difficult at times to gather my thoughts together enough to write about anything. I often find myself thinking about my own death. I think about where she is now, too, and what she might be doing. I think about that a lot. My sister was a brilliant artist. Everything in her life was a work of art. From a prepared meal to a painting to her garden, she sought beauty in everything she put her hand to. I remember once hearing her talk about the importance of color to an artist. Her wonder at color was fascinating! As she spoke, I knew that a mystery was being revealed to me but despite her words, understanding remained beyond my grasp. I like to imagine that now she is experiencing color like never before.

In “What Dreams May Come” Robin Williams’ character literally swam in the vibrant colors around him.

During one of my last visits with her she could no longer speak in complete sentences. Suddenly, in the middle of a conversation I was having with her husband, she mumbled something. Neither of us could understand what she was trying to say. Frustrated, she left the room. We looked at one another, shrugging. When she returned, there was a small picture frame in her hands. She pointed to it over and over saying, “This.” I did not have a clue what she meant. In response to her growing agitation, I stood and followed her through the house saying. “This, this,” she repeated, over and over.

We finally ended up in the room that would have been her studio. Satisfied at last, she pointed to the pictures on the dresser and breathed, “this” one last time. She relaxed. She had found what she was looking for. What I saw broke my heart. On the dresser were six unfinished Botanicals – dried flower arrangements in frames. None of the pieces looked anything like her work. They were thin shadows of the depth of her talent. But even with a mind being slowly eaten away by dementia, more artistic ability dwelled in her pinky finger than I would ever possess in my whole body. Even then, my sister’s talent was beyond me.

I envy my cat. I would like to be able to curl up and fit on the back of a down vest sitting on the top of my small red suitcase. I am certain it would be just the right combination of soft and warm.