Congrats NMF#14

(Warning: This is a rather self-indulgent post that will probably be very tedious to anyone who doesn’t know the parties involved.)

I would like to congratulate NEF#14 on transforming herself into NMF#14. May she never do it again.

I wasn’t going to make a habit of writing about bloggish weddings, but apparently I’ve been nominated official gossip columnist for such affairs, so here we go.

I must first say, in a whisper, which you will hear, that the music was not overwhelming. Indeed, it was quite comfortable. We could hear each other by speaking loudly; no screaming was necessary. I am impressed, and I want to know exactly what arm-twisting technique the NMF employed to convince the band to keep it down.

On the blackness scale, this wedding was middling-dark. There was no pink or green, but there were grays and whites. And Scraps made extra sure to point out that she, among all the bloggers, wasn’t in solid black. She was wearing a skirt that was – dum-da-dum-da-dum – gray.

Pardon me – she prefers to call it silver.

SD thinks this post is going to be all about her, so I will try not to disappoint. Firstly, she owes me an apology for thinking that I could possibly have been planning to tease her about her obsession with her hairdo. It was one of those bobby-pin intensive things that never stay up unless you have light, wispy hair. SD had industrial strength bobby-pins in hers, but she eventually had to ponify it anyway. Anyway, she accused me of being about to say something nasty when in fact I wasn’t, and I think she owes me for that. But somehow, by 12:30 am, she managed to extract from me an apology for making her think that I might be about to make fun of her. Either she’s good lawyer material, or my logic circuits had shorted. Or maybe I was just grateful that she went a half-hour out of her way to get me and Little Sheep home. That was nice of her, wasn’t it?

Some women/girls/females, on their wedding eve, look like Brides. Maybe it’s the layers of makeup or the extravagant updos or the Disney princess gowns. NMF#14 skipped all of these, and looked just like the down-to-earth (and sometimes below) young lady we all know and love, only very very very very very very very very very very very happy. I don’t think she stopped smiling for a minute, even when she saw the guys throwing her groom about on a chair and felt compelled to call, “Please don’t kill my husband!”

But I would love to know who did her makeup. It was so natural looking it looked like she wasn’t wearing anything. But she must have been wearing something because nobody looks that gorgeous naturally, right?

*ducks projectile from the NMF*

Weddings are like the African savannah. Naturally short of water, you need to use innovative techniques to ensure that you stay adequately hydrated. Why is it that waiters will never bring you water at a wedding? Anything else you ask for you can get, but if you part with your pitcher, rest assured you will never see it again.

In other parts of the world they fight land wars over water, but at weddings we’re civilized.  We kept our stilettos to ourselves and strained the water from the ice-bucket for each other while Dreamer regaled us with other solutions to drought from other weddings.

NMF#13 left early for reasons she claimed had nothing to do with the ‘M’ in her title. No comment. Scraps and Serach left shortly after, leaving a very bare-bones representative of what we discreetly referred to in ‘mixed’ company as ‘The Other World.’ There has to be a less ominous way to refer to cyberspace without blowing our cover.

There was a veritable plague of limp hands at this wedding. You know those people who won’t hold your hand in the circle? I can’t stand them. Circle dancing requires holding the hand of the person next to you. Keeping that hold requires effort from both parties.

During the mezinka (sp?) the bride demonstrated her excellent ability with a broom. She can balance it on her fingertip and twirl it like a baton. Whether she can use it to remove dirt from the floor remains to be seen.

At this point, only 20% of this post is about SD, so let me add: the absolute highlight of the night was finding out that my 6 am emails to her are forwarded to her phone, which vibrates upon receipt, and which is kept under her pillow. (Oops.) Who’d have thought that my messages, carelessly dashed off, could have such an impression upon their recipient? It just shows the power of words.

Why is her phone under her pillow, you wonder? She said something about an alarm clock, but let’s get real. Dr. Bad4 diagnoses her with severe and chronic Gadget Obsessive Disorder. If she left it as far away as her night table, she might suffer withdrawal. Know why she’s still single? Because she needs inorganic chemistry, not biochemistry. SD isn’t going to fall for any guy who isn’t at least partially bionic. Her bashert probably hasn’t been invented yet.

This post is now 35% about SD.