I have returned from my weekend in Alabama, where I went to attend the wedding of EN's youngest sister. As always, I learned many new things...
Sissy carries several coozies in her purse with her when she goes out, so she always has one for her beer. Because she’s so young and cute, people overlook the oddness of this tendency and make comments like, “In all my years of waiting tables I've never seen anyone do this!” with a wink and a smile.
When I shared this story with EN, he was initially impressed with his sister not wanting her beer to get warm. He was deflated when I told him that the real reason she does that is because she doesn't want her hands to get wet from the bottle.
Gay male wedding planners do exist in the South. And his name is Bruce. I had the good fortune of meeting Bruce years ago when Stepmommy and Senior got married. Our first meeting was memorable because I was left behind at the house to wait for Bruce to come set up for the rehearsal dinner. I started to panic when no one showed up. When Bruce finally arrived he looked around for his staff and asked where they were. I shrugged and he called them to discover that they were setting up IN THE WRONG HOUSE.
When I saw him this time, I was delighted to find that he still was as twinkly as ever. I laugh simply being around him. Watching him in action makes me howl. It seems as though he’s always late, so he’s forever rushing around. He flipped a tablecloth and knocked the pull cord off the ceiling fan. He scrambled around for it, held it up to his ear and said, “Ohhh, mah earrin’!” He yelled at his help and had to scramble back to his shop for the wedding flowers, but the man sets a mean table and makes killer chocolate covered strawberries (stuffed with bits of cheesecake).
|Was never a fan of orange before, but this|
|Even though I watched Bruce put this together, I could|
never do this myself. I want to bring the picture
to a store and have them make me one!
The craziest items can be bought in bulk. Stepmommy does not “need” glasses but she can’t see to read, so she stocks up on readers. By “stock up” I mean she buys them in bulk from QVC. She leaves them scattered throughout the house and her car, because you just never know when you might need a pair. She even keeps a basket of them on the counter in the kitchen so she can match her outfit. I thought this was hilarious, Bruce about wet himself when he got a load of that.
Crack can be a tasty treat. Stepmommy’s sister-in-law puts together this concoction of Cap’n Crunch, mini marshmallows, peanut butter and white chocolate that is TO DIE FOR. They call it crack. I brought some home yesterday and Spice declared it “delightful.” Sugar said, “You need to tell Angie she’s awesome.” I’m sure this stuff won’t have a long shelf life here.
A pinky wave tends to bite you in the ass within minutes. I was having a nice chat with Stepmommy’s brother and wife (the crack dealer) when I was called away for pictures. Tim had the audacity to give me a little smirk and a pinky wave when I groaned and got up from the table. When I saw that he was called out moments later I was thrilled to return the smirk, but sad that my little pinkies are unable to wave as nicely as his.
Southern folk really do say “Bless her heart.” The first person I heard do this was Bruce, right before he talked shit about a difficult customer. I couldn't help telling everyone how much that line pleased me and that I was going to use it on a regular basis. Later on, someone said, “Bless my heart” before she made fun of herself. I told her I didn't realize that one could bless their own heart and she said, “I am Samantha and can say whatever I want.” We laughed and she continued on with her funny stories.
Southern women can cook the shit out of food. I ate more good food than I can shake a stick at. I am now anxiously awaiting emails with recipes for the aforementioned crack, chicken soup, grape salad, white gravy, and cornbread. In fact, before the weekend I had no idea one could make cornbread without a mix. I did say that out loud and am pretty sure I heard a few “bless her hearts.”
It is possible to change your ways. This weekend I ate several items I wouldn't normally try. I enjoyed the sausage and egg breakfast casserole so much that my plate of seconds counted as thirds too. I tried marinated cheese, which I normally wouldn't be in the same room with. I can’t lie though, I’m guilty of fishing out only the chunks of cream cheese.
I’m also usually unwilling to let someone else drink out of my glass or bottle. However, when a stressed-out Stepmommy goes flying by, I absolutely let her have some of my beer. Several times. I am a sharer after all.
It’s never a good idea to start drinking at 11 am and stay up until 3 am. I’m glad that I think I’m a rock star, but clearly am not. I contend that I only opened that first beer as a service to Stepmommy.
They grow some big fucking snakes in the South. I was on my way out with Sissy on Sunday and we had a run-in with a 15 foot boa constrictor on the sidewalk. I immediately put my ass under my elbow and took off for the house while screaming “HOLY FUCK!” Second lesson here, it is possible to swear in the South on a Sunday without lightening striking.
Southern folk take their football seriously and are not shy about asking to watch the game during a wedding reception.
A function is as much fun as you make it. I tremendously enjoyed myself with people that I really love being around… and those I don’t like so much? I steered clear. It made for a wonderful day and I stayed out of trouble.
You are always left wanting more when you spend time with people that you love.