Friday, June 24, 2011

Sending Out the Invitations


The invitations are in. The Father of the Bride picked them up and wrote a check that was equivalent to 4 months of mortgage payments on our first house. We opened the big box containing several smaller ones. I took off the lid of the first box-...envelopes, box 2 ...more envelopes, box 3...napkins. Box 4... more envelopes. Box 5... matches. Finally the last box had what I was looking for: we request the honor of your presence...

I envisioned how we would assemble them (more about that in a minute). All of us sitting around the table music playing, a moment to cherish.

Really, shouldn't I know better by now? My husband went to take a nap. I think he was sleeping off the shock of purchasing a new refrigerator (more about that too) and paying for the stationary all in one day. My daughter sat down opened the box and started trying to put one together. What? We are just going to jump in? No psyching ourselves up? I pulled out a chair. Mr. Snarky stood over us eying the situation.

So there we sat. Mr. Snarky folded, I punched chads out of holes with a bamboo skewer, Bridezilla tied one on (ribbon) while we listened to sports talk guru Jim Rome blast people on his radio show via youtube. We laughed hysterically while he made fun of callers. It wasn't exactly what I'd envisioned for this moment, but then it was just so very...

us.

Mr. Snarky finished all his folding, it was the easiest job and he was a machine at it, so he went to make us some pasta. He brought it to us at the table and the most terrible vision came to my mind. I moved the work in progress far away while we at our dinner. Spaghetti sauce and wedding invitations are a tragedy waiting to happen.

Now about them having to be assembled:  Of course our bride can't have an ordinary invitation but wanted something a tad unusual. She is fond of little details. When she went to approve the order so her dad could stop in later and pay she said to the clerk, "Oh I'd hate to have to be the person whose job that was, to put those together!"

"Um...it's you. You have to do it."

"Oh..."

And so she did, with the help of her slaves (Aka, family of the bride).

A dead refrigerator meant that there was nothing to drink but tepid tap water and lukewarm tea. Neither my husband nor I could complain that our faithful dinosaur had laid down after 45 years of service. It was probably manufactured the year I was born.  I'll almost miss the lumbering copper tone monster whose dimensions seem positively demure next to today's stainless steel leviathans.

Life is funny isn't it? The invitations will be forever linked to a new appliance.

"When we did get that fridge?" asked years from now for some random reason.

"It was the week we got the invitations."

"Oh yes. I remember."

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