family wedding (m)

Wake up on Saturday.  The day of my cousin's daughter's wedding is finally here.  I have obsessed over what to wear for weeks.  Should I go with the Kleins outfit (Ann Klein skirt, Calvin Klein beaded top) or the blue Donna Karan that I've had significantly altered (taken in, shortened, shoulder pads removed, new navy beaded top underneath)? I opt for the latter as I'm not yet ready to "branch out" and this outfit makes me feel safe.  The wedding is black tie optional and my husband wears a tux.

I have been assigned pick-up for The Golden Girls...my mother and Aunts X and Y.  My husband will breeze in on his own in his Lexus convertible.  I get the Lexus SUV (151,000 miles) cleaned since that will fit all of them and their gear (canes, walkers, step stool, cooler for water "just in case").  Got my hair cut, colored and baliaged. I get a manicure and pedicure at 11 a.m. so it will be fresh for the 4 p.m. nuptials.  But first, I stop at a jewelry store and buy myself a pair of earrings that I have been thinking about for two years.  I'm almost halfway to my weight loss goal and this is my interim reward. I would wait a little longer until I actually hit the mid-way point except it's tax-free weekend and I plan to wear them to the wedding.

I'm all showered, dressed, made up, and bejeweled (just the earrings and my wedding ring) by 2 p.m. and head to my mother's house.  She's half-dressed by the time I get there.  Why aren't you ready? I ask.  "I can't decide what to wear," she says.  It's 2:30 p.m.....the wedding is at 4 p.m. in Boston and we have to load up the aunts at 3 p.m.  I'm a little stressed.  I comb out her hair (I set it the night before) and "paint" her face (as she calls it).  I've brought pearls for her to wear, choose an outfit, find some pearl clip ons and stick them on her ears.  She looks in the mirror.  "I look like Rose Kennedy," she says.  I tell her to get in the car.

Next stop, the aunts' house.  They are ready and waiting; the sun reflecting off their sequined outfits almost blinds me.  Aunt Y is wearing black earrings that look like a stripper's tassels.

My oldest brother calls me on my cell phone.  He's waiting at the church to "help unload them."  I pull up curbside and drop them off.  I park two blocks away and enter the church...sweaty, knees creaking.

The ceremony was beautiful.  The bride was stunning.  Petite, tight, fitted gown, simple tulle veil.  Understated and elegant.

The reception was at The Taj in Boston, formerly the Ritz Carlton.  No handicap access.  Getting the elders up to the second floor did me in.  Got to the top of the stairs, sat them at a table, got them some food and drink and gulped a glass of champagne in one sip.  Then another.  Now, I'm ready to party.  Had Greek yogurt and blueberries for breakfast and a Vitamuffin for lunch.  Had selected the Chilean Sea Bass, so I thought I was in good shape, points-wise for the day.

Then came the appetizers.

First...a spring roll.  Greasy, just okay, not worth the points (whatever they may be).
Then...lamb on a stick.  Passed on this.  Looked Medieval.
Then...scallops wrapped in bacon.  Easy decision to say "no" as I'm allergic to scallops.

So far, I've got two glasses of champagne and a spring roll to worry about.

Then I ran into Cousin Patty.  "Have you tried that Beef Wellington??? Oh, my God.  It's Unreal!"

I turn around and there's a server with a tray of them.  I try one.  It's incredible.  Everyone was talking about them.  Seriously.  They were that good.  Little puff pastries with a hot, flaky crust and tender beef inside.  Could be the most perfect food I've had in a while. I'm consumed with regret.

They announce dinner at 7 p.m.  A 15-piece orchestra is playing in the reception room. Three singers.  They are outstanding but deafeningly loud. 

Sit down next to Cousin Patty.  My brother Phil is there and had a little too much to drink.  My mother is glaring at him.  I'm stressed and immediately grab a dinner roll.  A voice in my head tells me to stop but I tell the voice to shut up.  I eat the bread.  Now I have to count that stupid roll.

The band is playing great dance songs.  Phil gets up to dance with his wife.  Does three dances.  She's whipped by the time she comes back to the table.  He turns to me.  Oh, Chr-st.  I get up and dance with him.  He's like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever and keeps traveling towards the front of the stage like a moth to a flame. After 3 songs, dinner is served.  Thankfully.

The sea bass was exquisite.  Really, the best fish I've ever had.  People are raving about the tenderloin, too. 

The music starts again.  I dance with my husband.  In the middle of the dance floor are all my cousins and I have a flashback to the late 1960s/early 1970s when we used to go to dances together down the Cape.  People are changing partners, women are dancing with women.  Men are dancing by themselves, Phil is still heading towards the front of the stage, arms flailing.  I couldn't stop laughing.  Cousin Ree is dancing, all 300 pounds of her, in a black chiffon sleeveless dress.  She looked like some goddess...empowered and radiant.  We ended up in a group hug.  I look over at my table...even my mother is laughing...forgetting the open heart surgery that may be ahead of her.  Cousin Patty is entertaining the entire table. 

It's a beautiful thing.

The cake didn't get served until almost 11 p.m., one hour after the coffee.  I took a bite of the frosting and pushed the plate aside.

Who wants to eat when they are having this much fun?