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May 19, 2007

The wedding that was almost too much fun

Or possibly a cautionary tale on getting Jews drunk before noon

Y'all are clearly going to get tired of hearing about my cousin's wedding a few weeks ago in San Diego because I simply can't stop talking about it. It really was almost too much fun. Seriously, though, can you have too much fun? I'm thinking no.

So, in that spirit, let me tell you how I met my cousin's lovely bride. We'll call her, um, Lesley since that's her name. I know. Weird. I'm such an iconoclast.

The wedding went off beautifully. Everything that everyone was worried about didn't happen. It stopped raining. There was no problem with security (it was on a Naval base which required that there be a very specific guest list and supposedly everyone's ID would be checked and if your ID didn't match your name on the guest list you would be left in the upper parking lot and not allowed into the wedding because, as my somewhat stressed out uncle yelled at Sissy Two while shaking her by the shoulders, we're at war, you know, but then the very bored shuttle driver didn't bother to check our IDs our even get out of his seat while we hoisted my mother and her wheelchair and her walker into the bus). No seagulls flew overhead to poop on the bride during the outdoor, seaside ceremony. Everything was lovely. Just lovely.

So, the wedding party went off to have their pictures taken and the DJ encouraged all the guests to head inside and avail themselves of the wine, beer and appetizers provided while we waited. We are an obedient crowd and we did just that.

Have I mentioned that my family has no head for booze?

The wedding party comes back and my sisters and cousins and various aunts and uncles are all pretty much wasted after a half glass of white wine and we're ready to party. The DJ starts playing dance music and we throng onto the floor for "Shout!" I am not including the photo of Sissy Two dancing to "Shout!" even though I think she looks like she's actually possessed by the spirit of "Shout!" with her arms up over her head and her mouth open. She feels it is a somewhat unflattering shot. Anyway, then the DJ asks for requests.

My mother requests Hava Nagila.

Now, let me note, that the bride is not Jewish. I don't think she's ever even been to a Jewish wedding. Officially, the groom is not really Jewish either since his mother was not Jewish. My uncle, who is Jewish, hasn't seen the inside of a temple for several decades and then it probably was only for someone's Bar or Bat Mitzvah. Still, my cousin gamely gets out there with all of us and dances. This is him with my mother. That's Sissy Two driving the wheelchair.

I don't know who started yelling for chairs, but somebody did. So then we're shoving the groom into a chair and someone grabs the lovely bride who hasn't a clue what we're doing to her and shoves her into a chair and then we lift them up over our heads and start dancing around. I so wish I had a picture, but we were all lifting so no one could snap one.

Lesley has a death grip on the edge of the chair. We're telling her to grab the end of the napkin that Danny's extending to her. She says something really polite about how she'd love to, but she can't let go of the chair. Turns out she's afraid of heights.

After a while, we set her down and I shake her hand and say, "By the way, I'm Danny's cousin, Eileen. It's so nice to meet you."

And that's how I met the bride and why you shouldn't give Jews alcohol before noon, especially if you're afraid of heights.

This blog was brought to you by The Quest for the Holy Veil, Kimberly’s hilarious novel about making the best of things... even when everything goes horribly wrong.

Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (5)

Comments

Posted by: Kimberly at May 20, 2007 8:19 PM

Posted by: Delilah at May 21, 2007 12:13 PM

Posted by: Pam W. at May 23, 2007 3:46 PM

Posted by: Eileen at May 25, 2007 7:56 PM

Posted by: Sheri at May 27, 2007 1:11 PM