Honeymoon Horror Show!

Could be today's title isn't completely accurate.  It wasn't a "show."   Come to think of it, not a lot memorable about our honeymoon. By the time the wedding was over, the drunks were all safely tucked away or passed out, we were on our way to a town near Salt Lake City so I could meet my new father-in-law and step-mom-in law for the first time.  Was the honeymoon actually planned?  Of course not!  We barely had input in planning our wedding, why would we do something as outrageous as plan a honeymoon?  By putting our respective pockets of change together, a few monetary gifts from the wedding and a couple days off from work we thought, "Why not?"  

So, here we are in his lovely 1960 baby blue  Ford Thunderbird, covered in cheesy best wishes and toting several lines of cans, shoes, squirrels (and possibly a homeless person or two) in our wake.  Oh, let me just take a quick side step and tell you about this car.  I married the man for this car.  No, seriously, I did!  He bought the car when we were just dating because I happened to mention offhand one day that my dream was to have a baby blue T-Bird.  Well, did his rating factor ever go up when he picked me up from work one day in this spiffy car!  Of course, I think I've mentioned before that I also married him for his dancing, his profile, his sense of humor, his winter tan, his mom, the fact he was so darn cute and (my dear daughters,  close your eyes on this part) a fantastic kisser! But most of all.....his car.  

Side note:  I even learned to drive in this car.  I knew how to drive a car a wee bit, but never enough to get licensed.  My dad was one of those old fashioned fellows that believed everyone, male or female,  hadn't any business driving a car unless they understood the workings of it....and most of those parts were under a nasty hood covered with grease.  Uh uh, not for this girl!  At 16 or 17 I took a lot of pride in my beautiful, long fingernails and I wasn't going to ruin a "look" on a greasy old engine so I could drive a car.  Which I didn't have much interest in doing to start with, soooooo.....I held out for a good-looking dude and enough patience to teach me without yelling.  Got part of that.  He yelled at me and my lack-a-daisal approach to driving so much, that I once stopped in the middle of a busy downtown street in Denver, flounced out from the drivers seat in a snit and with quiet dignity (yeah, right.) informed him I didn't like his attitude, so therefore he could drive.  That may not be verbatim.....the wording could possibly have been a bit more colorful and stated with a dose of coldness sarcasm.   Yes, I did have a few "close calls" during my learning process and put a few minor scrapes in his white walls, but he tended to over react to those things.  

Where was I?  Oh yes, back to the honeymoon:

So, here we are with our loose change heading for Utah.  I think we probably fought most of the way there but, can't remember for sure.  It would more than likely be worth putting money on that we did because basically the first 10 years of our marriage was one long, ugly, drawn  out fight.  We believe in hindsight it may have been because we were both wrangling for control.  Don't ask me if either of us ever got the upper hand because frankly, I think after awhile we were just too exhausted and too old to keep seeking the power.    Or...maybe I won!

Meeting my new set of in-laws was stressful for me because I was very shy back then and the in-laws I'd met up to this point were a bit over the top.  (Ooooohhhh, there's a blogging subject....the first time I met several of them.  Yikes!)   We hit it off, however, and I loved them both from the get-go.  At this point though, I was starting to have doubts about my brand new husband.  The next morning after we arrived, my new step-mom-in-law had to go to work, so my new hubby volunteered me to cook breakfast.  What?  I hadn't cooked breakfast for him yet, and I was suppose to prepare a meal for both him AND my new father-in-law?  He obviously didn't catch the venomous glare I tossed his way since he was busy chatting with his dad.  I decided to keep it simple and just fix bacon, eggs and toast, which I had cooked many, many times.  But, this was the morning I burned the bacon, put black lace on the hard fried eggs and incinerated the toast.  I was practically weeping!  My idiot brand new groom moans, "Is this what I have to look forward to?"  He was so new at this marriage business he had no idea when to keep his trap shut and about what.  But, dad, the new guy in my life,  thanked me for making breakfast and preparing everything just the way he liked it.  Of course he didn't like his food charred, but he was nice enough to convince me he did.

I do want to mention here that even  though my spouse apologized about 200 times, I never fried another egg for....about 2 years.  There are some dances you just don't want to go to with me!

Anyway, honeymoon, honeymoon, honeymoon....then we head back to our home in Denver.  That home happened to be the apartment I'd been living in with two roommates and since my rent was paid up to the end of the month, we had a couple weeks left before getting our own little apartment.  

When we arrived I went stomping in through the front door cursing and muttering to myself.  My friends inquired to the whereabouts of Bob and why was I mad? (Smart girls that they were, they were backing up and taking cover while asking all this.)  I had stayed mad through most of the trip and the drive home across mountainous icy roads and just been too much.  I was in kill mode and ready to pack his clothes up and ship him across town to his mother.  They had a nice little "welcome home from the honeymoon" party there for us so we had to slap on smiles and pretend to like each other.  Sigh!  Never an easy thing for us to do when we were being snarly with one another.  

You may wonder how long we kept the honeymoon "glow" going?  Believe me, it was a very, very long time.  Then things started getting interesting.  But, that's another story or two.  Besides, did I mention he was really, really cute?

My Redneck Colorado Wedding

In my last blog issue,  (Episode?  Installment?  Event?  Section? Bloggimentry?) I mentioned a bit about the events leading up to, but not exclusive of. "THE BIG DAY." 

I don't know if I have indicated that I was having commitment issues, but also had a complete disinterest in having a wedding or anything it entailed.  Once I had agreed to marry, I thought we could drag an engagement out for, oh...I don't know.  Five, six maybe even ten years.  The 

further I tried to schedule it in the future, he would retaliate with a date closer to the present.  It finally made sense to me that maybe I should agree to a date myself before his  idea of a wedding date was the week previous to the proposal.  (One of them.)  He says he liked the idea of Valentines day because with it being nationally advertised every year, he'd never have to worry about missing the anniversary.  Really, that's a lie.  He was just going backwards while I was somewhere around St. Patricks day, 1977.  It was a compromise, pure and simple.

I did have $150 and so I dutifully went shopping for a wedding gown.  Found one at a shop in downtown Denver on a clearance rack.  After trying on a couple I decided on the one I disliked the least and forked out $35 for it.  However, the veil I fell in love with and it cost $10 more than the dress.  I told my attendents go pickout their outfits with the only particulars to be I wanted them to wear white also (Um hum, yes I know. Strange choice.)  Of course the accessories had to be red.  I thought the fact I allowed myself to be talked out of wearing black to my own wedding was a biggy.  Although my choices may have been a bit off the wall for 1963, I thought they were beautiful.  

I did pick up some invitations and sent them off and gave the rest of my money to my mom and grandma and said, "Here, knock yours

elves out." They were dying to dip their minds in and do some major planning.  Between the two of them they order the cake, the flowers, the church, made reception plans for the church followed by a big afternoon dinner at my

 grandmothers.  Hey, this wasn't hard nosed of me.....I made happy ladies of the two of them.  Yep, that was all done and to late for me to back out.  Not that I didn't try, but my practical groom-to-be pointed out the cost of the stamps we'd used on invitations, etc. and said reassuring things like, "Are you completely batty?"  Yeah, I really, really was!  It wasn't guilt that got me to the church on time, it was guilt about those darn stamps.  However, sometimes I do make the right choices.  We've often laughed about this picture captured of us after the wedding.  He looks so proud and happy (OK, it was probably still a big of a whiskey fueled haze he was under.) and I look like, "Oooooh crap.  What did I just do?"

If we'd been a somewhat normal couple (I toss the word "normal" around a bit loosely when connected to the two of us) there probably would not have been a wedding ceremony.  Anytime the bride wakes up on a beautiful, warm, sunny day in February and says "Crap!", it's not a good indicator for....oh, most anything.    The groom is a few miles away working on his nervous breakdown and wondering what he couldn't done to lead him into a small town,  meeting the brides  strange family with little of his family there to offer support...and perhaps a few hints on how to get the heck out of Dodge.  

The minister had called the day before to say, "sorry, can't do the rehearsal tonight.  Overbooked myself, too bad!  You'll have to have your rehearsal a few hours before the wedding.  Yay!  That's what we wanted to do!  Have a how- to lesson during the time we'd normally spend getting dressed for our big day.  OK, why not.  Only problem is,  as soon as the bride & groom meet up at said brides grandmothers house, bother were in a wee bit of a thunderous mood.  You take the girl (that was me) with bad, bad, commitment issues and a boy (that would be him) with 2ND thoughts and memories of how fun....till then....his bachelorhood had been, and things were not boding well for the attitude of either party.  Somehow, a big argument ensued between the two of us, so we quite speaking.  We went to the rehearsal in separate cars, 

glared at each other during the very quick rehearsal and left the church in a snit and separate vehicles.

Move ahead a few hours and I'm getting dressed, pictures taken by a photographer that was really getting on my last nerve, and a information that 5 minutes before the ceremony was to start, the groom was not there.  Hmmmmm.  Maybe this was my chance to make a break for it.  No such luck.  He showed up about the time the minister was about to send the hounds out looking for him with....hello?  My dad and older brother, who deemed it necessary to take the poor jerk...sorry, meant to say...groom, to a nearby bar and loosen him up a bit.  Well, they all three entered the church completely loose and smiling.  A lot.  

The organist began playing the wedding march, my inebriated father started to sob  before we even started walking down the aisle.  While he was walking he had a firm grip on my arm to pull me along in his wake.  My legs were wanting to go backwards and out the door.  After the longest walk I'd ever taken (or so it seemed) I was brought front and center to see my groom, 

my love, the man I wanted to kill, standing there with a slight weave in him posture, as though he might tip over at any moment.  He had a silly, silly grin on his face and looked happy as a lamb.  My dad is sobbing rather loudly at that point, my mother is wearing her, "For crying out loud! expression and next to her my grandfather, loudly said in his OWN drunken voice, "Our Kay has slimmed down rather nicely, hasn't she?"  followed by equally loud "sssssshhhhhhssss" from my mother, my grandmother and two aunts.  

Did I mention before my grandfather was an alcohalic and my grandmother a tee-totaler?  Their marriage lasted 20 some years and caved in after he proved he was still fruitful and gave her a pregnancy she had not planned on when she was in her 40's.  Back then, 40's were actually 40's, not the new 25-30 like that age is today.  Between him being so fruitful and not willing to take trips to the hospital to go through "the cure" seriously, she kicked him to the curb.  Too bad, because he was quite enjoyable to the rest of the family.  Happiest drunk one could ever know!  The man was a prince; funny, clean, always in a good mood.  Great twinkling eyes.  I'm betting he was a leprechaun in a previous

 lifetime.  

Anyway, back to the drunken groom, the drunken father of the bride and the REALLY drunk grandfather.  Oh yeah, and the brother of the bride who was a drunken usher and I'm sure ushered some of our guest right out of the church.  He wasn't a friendly drunk.    At this point, I just wanted the whole thing to be over so I could go home.  Any ones home, I wasn't particular.  At some point during our "I do's" my grandfather who apparently was becoming confused about what exactly was transpiring asked....loudly, of course.....if this a catholic church?  Seventeen people hissed, "NO!"  Apparently he'd been gripping a handful of change in his fist and a bit later inquired (you got it....loudly!) when were they passing the plate.  At this point, I think I saw my grandmother wrap the handle of her purse around his neck while my mother stuffed HER purse in his mouth.  Could be it was only her wallet, but it certainly looked like a purse. My head was starting to throb.  The grooms weaving was starting to look more like a bit of jerking, like he might be losing his ability to stand in one spot much longer.  Poor baby.  NOT!

Could anything about this wedding possibly get worse?  Are you kidding for even asking?  Of course they could!  The wedding photographer who had the same sense of timing our over-booked minister had was still taking pictures of us as the reception in the basement of the church was taking place.  My older brother, the one that was already on my ****list, decided the "party was dragging a bit, so he proceeded to pour a rather potent bottle of something into the punch bowl.  I was to understand later that it actually was quite good and one couldn't even taste the kick in the punch.  Only experienced the effect.  Yes, we had a rather sotted minister and several hyper children running around that couldn't get enough to drink.  Hmmm, was this not giving anyone clues?  By the time we finally made it downstairs to cut the cake, nobody seemed particularly interested in us.  Thank goodness this was the period proceeding the tradition of smearing wedding cake on the mug of ones new spouse, because that would have really put my foul temper over the edge.  As it was, my new husband must have thought I had a terribly big mouth.  See photo:

The only remaining problem we had left to hurdle (Oh please, if you believe there was only "One", I have a bridge to sell you.)  was who was going to give the minister his due.  His payment.  His gratuity for making it through this mess.   I'm not sure, but we may have palmed the money into the hand of my beleaguered grandfather) who, I think we found passed out behind a pew, and convinced him the minister had the plate he'd been waiting for.  

Wait till you read about the honeymoon!

Hearts, Hugs and a Holiday!

I've been thinking about the anniversary my fella and I have coming up in a few weeks, so I felt the need to drape this page in gooey, mushy, hearts or flowers.  For now we'll go with hearts since Valentines Day will mark our 46Th wedding anniversary.  Wow, how incredible....46 years notched on our bedpost, and of course, our hearts.  Being the romantic I am I felt the need to toss that in.  I think it's also important to give a tip 'o' the hat to my partner for putting up with me for so many years.  During our engagement (which I remember with astonishing clarity) I wouldn't have bet we'd last through our wedding day.  This is the part where we will be nostalgic and rewind the past 46 years and take a glimpse into events leading up to that fateful day.

We had a courtship that didn't exactly blossom from the onset so much as one that unfolded slowly, one  petal at a time.  Of course the unfolding of said romance actually took place from start to finish (the finish being the wedding itself) faster than most couples spend just getting to the handholding stage.  We like moving right along.  He proposed numerous times over a period of .....we'll say, maybe a week.  I said no to each proposal  numerous times during the said period.  He finally stopped proposing, so that's when I decide to accept.  Baffled him a bit, but being the sport he is he accepted my proposal to his proposal.  There's still a on-going discussion over who actually set the wheels in motion for this whole "let's get together and wed each other" business. This should indicate the next several years were not going to be easy!

Seriously, can you imagine not wanting to keep a guy around that was this cute?  This photo was taken about a month before our wedding.  He was a gorgeous twenty-two years old.  I don't think I had any serious thoughts on letting this man get away! What you can't see in this shot is he was peeling potatoes for his mother.  Yeah, I know....let's have a big round of "Awwwwwwww."

The engagement would last, start to finish for about 2 months.  Yeah, I know...what took so long but, we hated to rush into anything as serious as marriage

Later I'll write a bit about our wedding day.  It wa a doozy!

FORCED RETIREMENT COULD SUCK

Feeling very badly today because of the plight of some of our closest friends.  I was aware of their concerns about a possible lay-off in their future because of the economy.  Their concern became a reality today.  Both Bob and I feel horrible for them because, like so many other friends and acquaintances  in our age bracket, the chances of starting a new career or even picking up a decent job can be slim.  When you make the choice to retire, it can be scary but at least it's your option.  When your job gets pulled out from under you and you don't have a choice, well......that's sucky any way you cut it,  unless you  happen to have a a couple million bucks stashed away in an account nestled in the Camen Islands.  I think I can say with a certain amount of sureness, they do not. Double sucky.   Well, they're both upbeat people with a very strong relationship so I know they will weather it well.  Maybe we'll even get them to pay us a visit while they regroup and go to their Plan B.

My live-in bottle washer (that would be Bob) and I have tossed our faith into the social security system and believe we will possibly fare well through these uncertain times.  It's either a case of blind faith or total stupidity but, either way it keeps our fretting to a low level.  We've learned to keep our expectations low and our ability to entertain ourselves high.

So....onward and upward!

Dear Hard-drive,

I think I finally understand this whole need to blog .  (Given enough time I can figure lot's of things out.)  This is cyber-worlds answer to writing in a diary as a teenager.  But, instead of writing in a little flimsy book with a lock (so nobody could peek)  now we put our thoughts on a computer and welcome the country, the world....even animals and outer space to observe our deepest thoughts!  Wow!  What a revelation!  Now you understand my blog title for the day.  Maybe!  Perhaps!  Now if I could only understand why I use so many exclamation points!  Seriously!!  Just a need to be noticed, I'm sure.

I didn't have to even put any thought into what my blog for the day would be.  My pal, my buddy, my Mr. Bob was my inspiration for todays musings.  He often is, but this is like a biggy.  Big I'm telling you.  Huge!  (There I go again!!)   The man is a crazy reader.  Has been for years, but....his idea of fun reading is to read a huge book on computer technology front to back.  Back to front.  Sideways.  He will spend hours on his laptop reading cyber newspapers from a half dozen major publishers.  He can recommend the best prices on anything because he studies sales on a variety of different sites and I think....though I'm not sure about this.....in several different languages.  I on the other hand do not read to learn anything.  I'm all learned out.  I want to be entertained.  Nothing more.  I have more books than a modern day library stashed all over the house to indulge my passion for learning nothing.  I have tried my hardest over the years, and more so since he retired 6 or 7 years ago to just read.  Simply read for the heck of it!  His excuse has always been, "I can't start a book because I get 

to interested in it and can't stop till I've finished it."  I've heard him say that at least a trillion times!  This man is retired!  We don't do anything except go run errands and shop once a week.  We do nothing!  It's winter....he doesn't even have a weed to pull.   Remember the Rolling Stones song, "Time Is On Our Side, yes it is....timeeee...ee...mmmmmee is on our side

....ohhh, I guess nobody can hear me singing.  Well, anyhow...I was making a point.  Soooooo, last night while he was "studing" his laptop, I slipped a book in front of him titled "Whiskey Sour" by J.A. Konrath.  It's a nice little mystery/thriller with a drink name.  What man could resist that.   This time I didn't even bother suggesting, I optained his attention the way wives have done husbands for zillions of years.  I ordered him to read it.  Than I walked away.  So easy!  He started reading and lo & behold, he even took it to bed with him.  He fluffed up several pillows to make his nesting/reading spot quite comfortable and proceeded to read for at least another hour or so.   Myself, I'm a very simple bedtime reading.  I don't fluff anything.  I lay on my side in my basic sleeping position, prop my book on the bed, try not to drool on my arm and when I get sleepy all I have to do is turn my light off and drop my book.  No rearranging anything, no needless fluffing, no rearranging covers.  I just nod off.  But, since he's a novice bedtime reader, I allow him his own system.  I'm proud to say, old dogs CAN learn new tricks.  At least my old dog can.

Speaking of reading.....there's several books with my name on them calling out.   So, dear hard-drive, until tomorrow.  Good-day and good luck.

ABBA fan? Not really!

First of all, let me say I only bring "ABBA" up in my title because, if there is ever an charge to be first in line (by title), that will qualify me to be somewhere near the prize.  For being first.   Because, in this lifetime I really, REALLY want to come in first....at least once!  Now, the weird title is out of the way, let's move along.

I am not a blogger.  I don't even work the English language all that well when I'm chattering away to friends and family on the phone.  So why blog one may wonder?  OK, more than likely I'll be the only one to actually ponder that question because there's a good chance I'll be the only reader. Besides me there is my ridiculous oldest daughter that seems to think I should skooch right along with her when she gets an idea.  She blogs, I should blog.  See?  The only problem is, she needs an outlet....I don't.  I have a 69 year old roommate to tear loose on.  (See sidebar on 1st husband.  Same person.)  That's about as much as I can handle if one is aiming for a release of mental anguish.  Frankly, I'm fine.  She however is a menopausal, mother of a toddler in her 40's.  (I won't say how late into her 40's because she knows where I live and she can hire "people".  ) Does this scream with the possiblity  this might not be the one person I should be taking any advise from?  Flip it though.  Does she seem like the kind of person you'd want to anger?  Hence, the blog. 

Well, this has been fun.  Perhaps tomorrow, after I've had an exciting night of fighting for the covers and/or my fair side of the bed, I'll have something to blog about.  Right now, I find myself all blogged out.  Goodnight to anyone in cyperland that stumbles over this.  I'm sorry it was you.  Just keep tramping along and you'll reach safer ground and I'm sure,  something worthty to read .