Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I am BACK from Arizona. Lots of stories. Where do I start? Jack puking on the plane? My boob popping out at the reception? Hmmmm. I'll just begin at the beginning. Logical. What's that you say? I'm about the most illogical person you've ever come across? Every dog has his day. Except Grady. He chews days up and spits them up just like everything else. Sometimes he craps things up. But I digress. The wedding. We had to drop Baby Grades off at my brother and sister-in-law's house. They are very brave. Although I believe they became a lot less so after finding that we did not bring the shock collar. I believe the exact quote was, "YOU DIDN'T BRING THE SHOCK COLLAR????" Followed by much running around and screaming. It was during this period of time that we decided to sneak out and burn rubber. That task out of the way, we made tracks for the airport. I am the type of person that requires about an hour and a half cushion to travel comfortably. Anything less than that and I tend to freak out. I was trying to be cool and go with the flow and agreed to arriving an hour early. Well, now I remember why I like to have a cushion. You can plan to be an hour early but shit happens. Traffic, rabid dogs, parking lots full, etc. We ended up parking on the opposite side of the terminal from where we were supposed to be. And then we waited for a freaking bus. And waited. And waited. I finally started walking. In heels. I know. They were comfy heels but I had I known I'd be walking THAT much I would have made a better footwear choice. We get into the terminal and check our bag. We're hungry. Dave waits in huge line for McDonald's. Jack and I find a seat. Angry old man takes the one reserved for Dave. Me: "I'm sorry but that seat is taken". Angry Old Man: "Doesn't look taken to me" and plops his angry old ass down. Ummmm, okay. Take food to terminal. We are boarding. Stick chicken sandwich in purse. Jam ourselves (and our delicious fast food) into tiny seats. Short flight, so really no biggie. I have my iPod and all of the deliciously trashy magazines that I only allow myself to read when traveling. TIP: The National Enquirer has the most bomb-diggity crossword puzzle. I like to think of myself as pretty smart (I'm really not.....I just like to think of myself that way) and it challenges my ass and whiles away the time. So, la, la, la........my blood pressure is slowly going down. Until we're about to land. The last flight we took was in April. Jack threw up on decent. Thought it was just a fluke. Apparently not. He threw up again. Poor guy. Fortunately it smelled like Happy Meal so noone was the wiser. Not sure what's up with that as he's been flying since he was an infant without incident. So that raised the stress level up again. Covered vomit with Enquirer (which has much better absorbing properties than glossies) and informed flight attendant who was actually pretty cool about it. Probably 'cause she didn't have to clean it up. Walk my blistery feet to baggage. Dave calls his brother Skippy who is supposed to pick us up. He's not there. He's just getting on the highway. Oh dear. Sit down and wait. He finally gets there. My mother-in-law, AKA Mother Bradford is with him. Get in car. Head to accommodations. Arrive. We have three rooms. One is Mother B's and her husband Bill's. One is for Skippy and Dave's dad, AKA Grandpa C (who has not yet arrived.....more on THAT later) and one for me, Dave and Jack. At this point, I really, really just want to sit down and chill out for a sec. Guess what????? Two of the three rooms are ready. Ours is not one of them. I ADORE Dave's family. They are hella cool. But they are "go with the flow" sorts. I am not. I don't do flow. I am staunchly against it. I'm more of the "immovable wall" sort. We keep calling and they keep telling us that our room is not ready yet. At a certain point, we went down and asked that they just give us ANY room. Which they did. Not sure why they didn't figure that one out an HOUR ago. Get to room. Promptly break down in tears. Husband looks horrified. Husband pours drink. For both of us. Start to feel a little better. Go out for dinner at Mexican place. Margaritas. Feeling MUCH better. Come back to hotel room and am pretty beat and want to go to bed. Family has gathered in our room. That's cool. Crawl in bed and throw covers over head. Wake up the next morning and find out that wedding is not until 5 o' clock. Wonder what in the flying fuck we are going to do all day. Day is saved by mall. With Nordstrom. Yay. Go back to hotel buttressed by a healthy dose of retail therapy. Get ready for wedding. Am wearing silk pants and a one-shouldered top. This becomes relevant later. Ceremony is lovely. I actually cried a little. The groom is my nephew (Dave's side) and I've known him since he was a six-year old spoiled little shit that kicked me in the shins. If he didn't turn out to be such a cool dude I would have held a grudge. It was really sweet. Lotsa love. Go on to the reception. Beautiful room and tastefully done. Lots of cool people. Lots of cool DRUNK people. Myself amongst them. All I know is that my son is a dancing machine. He even came up with a line......"The dance machine is out of order, please insert another quarter". Touche. Oh, and my brother-in-law is really popular. Ladies LOVE a gay man. Ooopsie......did I just out you Skippy???? No? Didn't think so. I adore him. He was my therapy human this weekend. We considered giving him a yellow vest that says, "Please Do Not Pet Me.....I Am Working". We danced and danced and drank and drank. At one point, Skippy grabbed my boob. He said it has magical healing properties. For some reason, gay men grabbing your boob is perfectly acceptable. What was not was when my BOOB POPPED OUT OF MY TOP. TWICE. Double oopsie. Well, really single as it was just one boob. Twice. I really didn't care. It's just a boob. Get back to hotel room. As Dave said the next day, "I wrestled my mother into her room, walked into Skippy's and he was sunny side down. Walked into ours and you were too". All's well that ends sunny side down in my book. Lots more to tell but having been gone all weekend, I need to get my shit together. Will report back later.