Announcements for The Big Event have been posted on three Facebook pages, each corresponding to the various events leading up to the BIG Event. Dress suggestions for associated events are casual or comfortable. Costumes are suggested for the Big Event. The event theme is Unicorns, Rainbows and Ninja Cats.
I am so not a costume person. So I peruse catalogs, looking for . . . I know not what, to be a stand-in for a costume. I hope I'll know it when I see it.
I find a breezy, colorful crinkle skirt. A cute top with a draped neck and ruching down one side is offered in several colors, notably sold out in my first choice. My second choice, the melon-colored one, may or may not coordinate with the skirt. I take the chance.
When they arrive, I try them on. There is disappointment. The melon-colored top is fairly long and quite bright. Looking in the mirror, I see my belly sticks out ahead of my boobs. The boobs have gone South, East and West. I am concave. That's when I decide bra-shopping is critical. I need a fitter who can organize the continental drift so it fills in the drapes in the blouse and lets the boobs better compete with my belly.
Daughter promises to show up some time on Saturday morning for a trip to the City up the Highway. We -- Daughter, Friend and Moi -- head up to the City around noon and wander crowded city streets to locate and park somewhere nearby Victoria's Secret,
The store is tiny, jam-packed with women of many ages, a few husbands, pretending not to look, and other men, buying. There is a wait list for a fitting room. The "fitter" does not really do fitting. This is not like the bra shop in The Little City Down the Hill from where I live, where the proprietress sized you up with a good feel-up of the boobs. (Or so I am told.) Those were probably "brassieres" she was selling, not mere "bras." I'm given three models of various "fits" in my size. Daughter has to help hook me up, but we choose a model that gives containment and uplift. Then we are taken to drawers to pick out "pretty" versions. I select two. They should last me the rest of my life,
Daughter saw a beautiful Indian skirt at a street fair a few days ago. She thinks it would provide a beautiful core piece for her Big Event costume. As we're walking back to the car after Victoria's Secret, she and her friend Google the vendor and track her down by telephone. By lovely coincidence, we will pass by the vendor's town on the way back to our varying "home" locations. We offer to meet her at McDonald's by the freeway in her town. As we turn off to find McDonald's, the woman calls to provide us direction to her home nearby.
She is hesitant to invite strangers into her home, but I guess the several phone conversations with Daughter and her friend are reassuring. We can almost feel her sizing us up when we arrive, adjusting her thoughts about conducting business on the front porch. She asks us in. She introduces us to her husband. She admires that we tracked her down. They have no storefront, they are just getting into doing markets, not even a business card yet.
|Daughter admiring beautiful home, beautiful merchandise.|
Success. The skirt is produced from one of the bags that hold merchandise for market.
Daughter asks for possibilities for a top to go with the skirt. The woman sends her husband to find saris and shawls. They return with several pieces of sari silk. Daughter selects a few for herself and her daughters. I grab out a long piece of silk that is likely to be a retired sari. It must be at least 18 feet long. Surely it will find good use in my fabric stash.
|Her friend's place has a view out to the Pacific|
That's not the whole program for the day. Sister and Brother-in-Law will be arriving sometime this afternoon and will be staying with a local friend. Tonight, Saturday, there will be a rehearsal dinner and dance leading up to the Big Event. Step-daughter has come from Southern California for the events. The Event Rehearsal takes place at the Officers' Club on a local military base. All the guests scurry to get the proper forms for driving onto the base. I didn't drive -- Daughter did because I don't want to drive to the downtown hotel to pick Step-daughter up -- so I didn't get to negotiate the truck through the cement barricades intended to slow down malefactors. That might have been fun. It felt like a tight squeeze.
Step-daughter and Daughter laugh heartily to the bemusement of an onlooker as we partake of our hors d'oeuvres. As for rehearsing, as nearly as we can tell, nothing has been rehearsed, unless it's the band. Son has assembled guys and a gal from a couple of his bands, plus other musicians who just want to play for the event. Maybe playing music all evening is the rehearsal.
|l. to.r., Grandson's Dad, Cousin's Wife, Grandson, Cousin|
|A fruit and cheese salad. Yummy.|
The dinner is served buffet style. I'll skip a photo of that because I don't arrange a "presentable" plate.
The band begins to play. I won't be dancing, but I'm feelin' the beat of the music and loving it. Conversation is impossible so I can just drown myself in the sound and feel happy.
How shall I keep all the grandchildren properly differentiated? Daughter (my eldest child) has her eldest son here ... let's say DES. She has two daughters here ... DED and DYD. Daughter's Youngest Son is in Japan and missing the Big Event. Son has one of each, SS and SD.
So here, DYD and her BF, are of the generation where every photo is an opportunity to mug for the camera.
|There's m' boy, singing and playing. Those are major joys in his life|
and it's the joy of Sister's and my lives to hear our boys sing together.
A lot of people danced the entire evening. Nonstop. Daughter, Step-daughter. Cousin and his wife. Both of Daughter's Daughters and their BFs. Here is DYD dancing with DED's BF.
Sister delivers dessert from the buffet table. I, being of sound mind, eat my wedge of almost pure chocolate while dancers return to the dance floor.
Three young women with red hair dance together. Too late I discover that I can actually adjust my phone camera to lighten the photo as it shoots. I prefer not to use flash. I think the one with the back to us in Son's Son's GF.
|Brother-in-Law and Sister|
|There's the real photo pro working out there.|
|When I am finally dropped off back home, I find the canine |
golden-haired girl mysteriously dressed in a tutu.
|Here with Son's Daughter|
I'd love to, but I have balance issues with the unfortunate effect that I tend to fall down. It
freaks everyone out when the old lady takes a flop
You may have known this already, or surmised from this blog, that the Big Event is the wedding between my Son and BTB (Bride to Be, because "fiancée" just sounds strange to her). You might also imagine from what you've read and seen so far that this wedding may be a bit non-traditional.