An End to My Year of Weddings

I have recently been poked at, prodded, cajoled, and downright shoved headfirst into blogging again. The primary reason seems to be that I am "hilarious." I fail to see how my writing will make people laugh when unaccompanied by pictures of me, but I leave that to whoever wants to read this. After experimenting in "what the fuck should I write about today?" earlier in the year (which is in full evidence further down the blog), I've decided to go with a more straightforward approach. Like when that quirky indie group writes a song for a commercial, then sells out and goes mainstream. Oh yeah, this is going to be THAT good.

Rather than go back and recap the last six months since I last rowed this creaking leaky boat out into the waters, let's stick with what's fresh. Last weekend I attended the wedding of one "Bitchtits" Tiezzi and his lovely bride "Dong" Reed. Their nicknames are earned and affectionately given. Friday night, I got the all-clear to flee D.C. early, and then waited to avoid crazy Memorial Day weekend traffic. Around 8, I piled into my tiny blue Saturn with the perpetual "flat tire" light glaring at me and drove down to Stanardsville, which is Charlottesville's northern neighbor and a great desolate wilderness in which to hide should the zombie apocalypse strike as cannibals on "bath salts" in Miami seem to indicate it will any day now.

The lovely couple.

 To give some perspective, a year ago last weekend, Tiezzi planned another event to coincide with horrendous Memorial Day traffic and tourism: Orr's bachelor party at the Hollywood Casino in West Virginia. We quickly learned holiday weekends mean high minimum bets at the tables and bad odds with the horses. Ok, bad odds with the horses might be an all-the-time thing. I distinctly remember picking the horse that came in second-to-last, and though I cannot remember his name, I'm pretty sure "peanut butter" was in the title. I assume I picked it because when you think speedy and winning, you think gloopy drippy peanut butter. And that began my year of weddings.

I ushered for Orr's wedding in Williamsburg in June, threw a bachelor party for Brian in July, best manned the hell out of his wedding (toasts, "bring me a bridesmaid," accidentally popping a water line while fetching the bride's luggage and rings!), attended Ryan's bachelor party in Atlantic City (four loko, stuff I vaguely remember!), officiated his and Laura's wedding in September, then attended Tiezzi's bachelor party - again in Atlantic City - last month the weekend after the Mikado, and now last weekend I spent a wonderful time in the quaintest little Zombie Apocalypse Safety Zone in the Old Dominion.

The Rosebrook Inn's main building. I slept in a cabin in
the back on a day bed. Super quaint. Lacks panic room.

It really was fantastic. Getting there late Friday night, I drove about a mile and a half down what amounts to a gravel driveway. No internet access, no real cell phone signal. Instead there were everyone from the old frisbee Monroe group at William and Mary, a lunch consisting entirely of Chick'fila party trays, and plenty of booze. Needless to say, amazingness abounded. Unfortunately for all of those who are big fans, Josh's alter ego did not make an appearance, but there was an occasion Saturday night where Josh was the biggest spoon for five other people in pajamas on one of the full beds... until completely-asleep Josh fell off the bed and was rudely awakened by a bitchy hip bone.

The wedding itself was outdoors, and I ushered once again. I believe I was chosen to usher rather than be in the wedding party for two reasons. One: I would not have been able to pull off one of those great crimson bridesmaid dresses and Two: I noticed the palest people were chosen to usher in 90 degree heat where shade was limited. To add to this taunting, I was ushering people inside to the air conditioning where they could wait and drink water before the wedding. I fear this is what I get for years of referring to Tiezzi as "Bitchtits."

Thankfully, I avoided turning red as a lobster due to some well-timed sunscreen salvation from Rachel, who managed to show everyone exactly how to have a good time at a wedding - a task that had previously fallen under my job description. Much wine and dancing were had, and Davia was given a short but progressively inebriated timeline of events mostly consisting of song titles. "Sweet Caroline!" "DON'T STOP BELIEVING" "SHOUT!!!!"

Then on Sunday morning, we all helped clean up and I drove further South to visit my parents in Concord. It was honestly odd being home for the first time since my dog Snoopa died (while I was on vacation at the beach with Mike and company - nothing happens on its own these days). My parents have a new three month old puppy to annoy the fatter, older, bigger dogs now. My dog, Jake, whose been around for almost 10 years now if not more, has gone deaf and he's going blind. My poor Helen Keller dog. Unrelated note, if I'm ever late for anything, my only excuse to you will be two words: "deaf dog."

Bela, precocious face-licker and rug-pisser. That rug really
tied the whole room together too...

Sunday evening and Monday afternoon were periods of relaxation punctuated by frantic face-licking and vain attempts to tire out a twelve-week-old puppy who likes nothing better than to be held while squirming about. Monday culminated in a bottle of wine and some burgers and beans before the surprisingly quick drive back to D.C. where I was bombarded with the reality of reading for work I had put off all weekend and a very jealous cat who had no intention of letting me complete that reading. At one point she zoomed into the bedroom where I was reading, leaped onto the open folder of printed articles, and sat there staring at me and purring.

Now, I have several new deadlines and projects at work, and no weddings or major events in the foreseeable future whatsoever. No shows. No major trips planned. Year of weddings (and a whole lot else) is over. So, what's next?