This is me, shortly after delivering the traditional "birds-and-the-bees" pep talk to the groom on the way to the church.Well done, Most Honorable Maid.
This is the happy couple, Missy and Mr. Missy, shortly after the nuptials.
This is me, running away from the bouquet.But I digress. Where was I? Ah yes, Sumter "The Gamecock City," SC. Toby is right. There's no Toby in Sumter, though there is a goodly amount of gamecock and gamecock-related paraphenalia. Tobs may be glad to know that I did wave to his Carolina (or where I imagined it might be) on my flight down. Not so much on the way back home, as there was thunder and lightning and the flight was scary.
This is the house where Missy and Mr. Missy live (though it's now finished and furnished and so forth. I had a guest bedroom and bathroom of greater square footage than my servant's quarters/furnace room at home.
This is the house where Missy and Mr. Missy live (though it's now finished and furnished and so forth. I had a guest bedroom and bathroom of greater square footage than my servant's quarters/furnace room at home.
This is Cisco, their dog. He's an Australian Shepherd that looks like a Border Collie. He's a big fan of frisbees.
I took some photos of amusing signage in Sumter and environs, but as with Thanksgiving pictures of NH, it's going to take me a little while to get them up.It was, all in all, a great weekend. We did some shopping, some gossiping, some chocolate-chip cookie baking and some comforting of Mr. Missy when Virginia Tech lost on Saturday. We went to a cafe whose slogan is "Peace, Love, and Chicken Salad." The chicken salad was pretty good, though I didn't like it nearly as much as I like peace and love.
Sunday, it was about 70 degrees, which was a little disturbing. To celebrate, we went to Wal-Mart in Sumter. It was the emptiest Wal-Mart I've ever seen, because everyone (except for us heathens) was in church. Since the state is subject to "blue laws," you can't buy anything that isn't food before noon on a Sunday. No shampoo, no napkins, nothing that isn't edible/potable. Charming, no?
You'll all be happy to know that Claire was intact on Sunday when I returned, having avoided perishing in a Greenies-related fracas.
8 comments:
Wow. I had so many thoughts whilst I read that, that I kind of forgot them. But mainly they had to do with the fact that you have friends who are married and thus jointly own a very handsome herding dog. Also, that I can't buy napkins or styrofoam peanuts or other not edible items I like to purchase On Sundays in states where they have blue laws. I don't want to wait until noon on Sunday, I want mu napkins now damn it.
In my ignorance...What the heck is a gameCOCK?
Mom
it's the mascot of the University of South Carolina (perhaps you've seen the hats inscribed with the word "COCKS"). I was being juvenile by shrinking the "game" part. Aren't you glad you and Dad put me through an expensive private liberal arts college?
Erste thought: you are adorable.
Zweite thought: as a fellow New Englander, I can appreciate the major personal sacrafice you made to visit South Carolina. If someone gave me the choice between spending a long weekend in the Palmetto State or the spider hole where they found Sadam Hussein, it would not require much deliberation.
Dritte thought: the groom in that photo looks like he is about nine years old. Did he say something really cute during the vows like, "I have to make a wee-wee now"? Was anyone filming? Did you send it to America's Funniest Home Videos?
Vierte thought: Good Lord woman, why are you running away from the bouquet? I will run towards anything resembling a bouquet, which, sadly, had caused me to run with open arms towards many a Duane Reade bag filled with garbage, flung from the fourth floor of a Brooklyn walk-up. I have been hit in the face with Chicken bones more times than I care to admit.
Funfte thought: I too have friends who are married and own things like houses and dogs and even babies!! Just thinking about it makes me want to take whatever pills are rattling around in the bottom of my desk drawer and lay down.
1. Why, thank you.
2. Yes, it's weird down South. What with the friendliness, godliness, conservative-ness. And that Southern twang. I did survive the whole weekend without being called a "Yank," though, which I appreciated, because apparently it's rather a rude thing to call someone.
3. Mr. Missy is indeed quite youthful in the face, and he is not aided by the fact that he's gotta do the whole Air Force-clean-shaven thing. He also drinks a goodly amount of Kool-Aid, which is adorable. But rest assured, he is, in fact, old enough to have married his lovely wife.
4. I ran away from the bouquet a.) didn't want to enter into the crap shoot that is having the guy who caught the garter place it on your leg and b.) because I am young and stupid and I fear commitment to all but Eggs Benedict, my perennial brunch choice. Yesterday, upon Gus jumping into my lap for the umpteenth time, I shouted "Why are you so needy? I need by space! Don't try to change me, Baby."
5. Adult-like friends can be scary. Though, it seems more normal when you spend a weekend surrounded by married people. I mean, as long as I'm allowed to be juvenile and amused by things like the word "gamecock," I figure to each his own.
down here in the south, i have several adult like friends. the other first year guy in my program is married. i had dinner with him and his wife and another person from my program who is thirty. it's all hapenning too fast.
Just call them Gypsies and throw some "dagmars" at their faces and you'll be fine Tobs. And for the love of gentle Jesus find out if the Romania dates work or you'll have to take Goat air and meet us in Bucharest.
Yeah, it is happening a little fast. Hence me running AWAY from bouquets. Because I'm pretty sure that once someone from our college posse gets married, I'm going to need to breathe into a paper bag for about a year.
I vote you ALL take Goat Air to Romania. Think of the hijinks. The hijinks!
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