WHEN DID I BECOME ONE OF THE GROWNUPS?

It's kinda hard when you have those "Oh my goodness I am getting really old" moments. I had just such a moment last night. I had gone with some of my girlfriends to dinner and a movie, then back to my friend Barb's house for wedding cake and spiked punch, leftover from her daughter Neysa's wedding this past weekend. After we had eaten, Barb asked if we would like to see some of the pictures that her daughter Kalyn had sent via email from the wedding.

Having attended the wedding, most of the pictures and events from the big day looked familiar to me....that is, until towards the end of the pictures. There were pictures of the bride and groom and guests dancing and wearing crazy hats - - "they were doing the YMCA" noted Barb. I commented that I must have been in the bathroom while that was going on. But as the pictures continued, I realized that I wasn't waiting in line for the restroom when the YMCA dance was taking place. (though admittedly, there is no love lost from having missed this Village People wedding staple.) No, the reason I don't recall the YMCA dance is because we weren't there for it, nor for the following pictures that we saw where the DJ was done for the evening and Neysa's brother, Shay, brought out his keyboard and sang and played for the group. We missed that, along with the dancing and frivolity that ensued into the late hours of the night/early hours of the morning.

By 10:15PM, Chris and I had started yawning and getting tired - - we had both been up since about 6:30AM. By 11PM, Chris and I had headed for home to relieve our babysitter and to get some sleep. Only a few miles away, dancing and drinking and laughing and singing continued while I took off my makeup, brushed my teeth, and went to bed.

Until I saw those pictures last night, I still felt like one of the "young ones" at the wedding. Those pictures very soundly drove home the point to me that I am indeed, getting further removed from "the young group" every minute. Deep breath and a realization - - - we were at that wedding not because we are friends with the bride and groom, but because we are good friends of the bride's PARENTS. We are friends with the bride and groom, don't get me wrong, but we are actually very good friends with Barb and Greg, Neysa's parents.

It doesn't seem that long ago that Chris and I would have been the ones helping close the place down at 2AM. Now the thought of staying awake until 2AM sounds completely foreign to me. The spiked blue punch at the wedding was tasty, but I stopped after a few glasses because I didn't want to feel crappy the next day. I opted to sit out the majority of the dancing in favor of sitting and talking at our table with friends. While many of the party revelers were undoubtedly snoozing the next morning, I was on my way to church to teach Sunday School. Wow....when did this happen? I think adulthood crept up on me when I wasn't looking.

ALLOW ME TO PROPOSE A TOAST . . . .

Chris and I spent this weekend on the road. On Saturday morning we left for Iowa, to attend my cousin Carrie’s wedding, held near Des Moines. I had never attended an outdoor wedding in August, so sufficed to say, we were dripping with um. . . sentiment . . .by the time the reception rolled around. After the recessional, the guests didn’t wait around to see if the bride and groom planned to dismiss everyone by row. No, it was more or less a refined stampede into the air conditioned hall. Actually, once you got past the 95 degree temperatures, it was a very lovely setting to have a wedding. It was held at a golf course, and the wedding site was on a rolling piece of land, overlooking a small lake, with lots of large trees all around (unfortunately, none of which provided shade for the event, but so it goes.) I really did enjoy the chance to get to see some of my family that I rarely get the opportunity to spend time with. One of my cousins and I figured out that it had been thirteen years since we had seen each other. Unfortunately, it seems that the only time most of my dad’s side of the family is all in one place is for weddings or funerals.

The next morning, Chris and I left Iowa and returned back to Illinois. Chris’s parents had graciously offered (ok – they were persuaded) into keeping the kids an extra night for us, so that we could have one more child-free night to ourselves. We decided to stay at the lodge at Starved Rock State Park in Utica. As we checked in that day, we noticed people busy putting the final touches on a wedding being held later that afternoon there at the lodge (an outdoor wedding as well. . .since when did outdoor weddings in August become so chic?) At any rate, later that evening, Chris and I were sitting in the great hall of the lodge, having some liquid refreshment and playing a game of rummy (to all my single readers, this is what high excitement in married life looks like after ten years.) As we played, we could hear the wedding banquet getting underway next to us - - the great hall had been curtained off, but we could obviously still hear the music and the people milling around next to us. Everything that was said over the PA system was also quite public, which is how I am able to recount the following event.

One of the first things that they did at this reception (before the food was served even) was to have the toasts from the maid of honor and the best man. The maid of honor was first and gave a very short, yet heartfelt toast. Soon it was time for the best man. He took the microphone, and said to the guests, “hope you have an hour . . . I have a lot to say.” The guests all gave a little laugh. . . .little did they know that he was more serious than they realized. He then started his toast with this joke: A man walks into a bar and says, “ow.” This less-than-amusing line was met without even polite laughter, and it was all downhill from there. I will spare you all the details, simply because of the space it would take up to have to write it all down, but this man’s diatribe covered everything from childhood, high school, college, and in between. He even managed to work in the fact that his friend’s wedding date was the same date that his own brother had died on four years prior, and then went into detail about THAT event. I have no idea how in the world this man felt that his toast was in any way acceptable - - he actually went on for close to fifteen minutes with his rambling toast. FIFTEEN MINUTES!! Twice, the guests at the wedding starting using their utensils to clink their glasses in an effort to let him know that he had gone on entirely too long. He seemed oblivious to their hints, and plowed right on through. I can only surmise that someone must have had to have physically removed the microphone from him, because all of a sudden, his toast stopped short, and everyone in the room started applauding.

(and those people thought the most uncomfortable experience they were going to have all day was sitting outside in the August heat at a wedding!)