Report!

The wedding weekend ended up being even more fun than we all anticipated, I think...

We finally got to Rifle three hours after we said we'd be there, so for the rest of the afternoon, we all ran around cleaning off porches and hosing down porch furniture and trying to help set up the reception tent the best we could without getting in the way of the bride's mom's "vision." It was a beautiful day, and the rehearsal was great, complete with the bride, Sahara, breaking down in tears at almost every turn. Our stepbrother, Brandon, seemed pretty low key for someone getting ready to get hitched, but they both were pretty calm given the amount of crazy relatives running around shouting orders at each other.

"Find some tablecloths!"
"Mow the grass!"
"Who's got the chafing dish?"
"Don't forget the pasta salad!" (which we did - oops)
"Get this bug off of me!"
"What the hell IS a chafing dish?"
"Why are you setting up tables over there?"
"Move those benches!"
"Seriously, there is a colony of bugs setting up camp in my hair!"
"You can't just sweep; you have to hose off the deck!"
"Speaking of chafing, what is UP with my pants?"
"Oh. Lord. Please tell me that is NOT AN EARWIG!!"

The next day, Saturday, the actually day of the wedding, was much the same, except on an even more amped-up scale. "Pure, unadulterated INSANITY" is the description I have for it, but only because I lack the ability to come up with something much more accurate. Sam and Scott got tapped at the last minute to race to town for ice and balloons, and then had to spend an hour or so tying balloons to road signs so that people would know where to go. Sam had already gotten dressed and ready for the wedding, so it was particularly helpful that a 30-minute monsoon began as they were out tying balloons. I was perched up in the house listening to the shouts of people trying to hold down the tablecloths and centerpieces and cursing where the hell the blue sky suddenly went. Smartly, or maybe not so, I had volunteered to iron whatever anybody needed ironing, which was great because there's nothing like being wrinkle-free in a rainstorm. Never mind that you're suddenly starring in a wet t-shirt contest; the point is that you HAVE NO WRINKLES.

The sky cleared up and the sunny, blue skies returned just in time for the chairs to get dried off and the wedding to begin. Sahara was absolutely stunning, and Brandon looked wonderfully handsome, and a little Keanu Reeves-ish. Ronnie (Brandon's dad) actually departed from his standard jeans and t-shirt wardrobe and donned a SHIRT AND TIE, and looked so cute. Our stepsister Shyann even got all glammed up and looked beautiful, and she isn't too fond of the whole dressy scene, either. My mom and Sam were gorgeous, as always, and my Scott was in his cowboy finest, so we all cleaned up pretty well! Sahara had the mad-crazy giggles all throughout the ceremony; she was so nervous! Sam and I were all prepared to hunker down with our boxes of Kleenex and bawl, but with Sahara laughing and everyone else joining in, it was just too funny. Which I embarrassingly punctuated with a hideously loud SNORT mid-laugh. "SAM!! PLEASE tell me you could NOT hear that!" "Um, yeah, Boonz - that was pretty loud!" We all made it through, and it was a beautiful ceremony. Brandon's all growns-up and all growns-up now...

The reception. FUN. AWESOME. Wine + beer = good time had by all. Wine followed up by beer = silly, tipsy fun. I will say this: the bride and groom disappeared way before the rest of us declared the party over. (Hopefully they're enjoying their little love gifts we left for them on their bed for their honeymoon!) There was even karaoke. Sam ended up singing "Oops, I Did it Again" and did a marvy job. She wanted me to do it with her, but I was way too embarrassed. Which is really kind of funny, since about two songs later, I somehow found myself singing NSync's "Bye Bye Bye" with the best man (Nick, whom we all deemed our honorary brother). There may have even been dance moves, but I'm not talking. The best part was that Mom got up and sang QUITE A FEW songs. She at one point (and not too terribly long ago) was going to be a country singer, but the small gigs here and there faded away, and there went that. Sam got up and did a couple of songs with her. Shy and Ronnie busted a big jitterbugging move to a few songs and kept us all happily entertained, and it was generally just a blast.

I wasn't even tipsy enough to walk up to people and suddenly declare them my best friend, so the night was even more of a success, in my book.

Sometime around two in the morning, everyone decided to pack it all in, and not only that, started cleaning! What the?!? I remember carrying a couple of meat-and-cheese trays across the yard; hopefully they made it to a fridge somewhere, but by then it was Air Mattress City or Bust.

The next morning I went upstairs to use the bathroom, totally hangover free (thank you, thank you), and checked on my lil' sis. She was sleeping away, completely cocooned in a big ol' comforter, with the exception of two little beer-and-mud-caked feet.

Always the sign of a good time.