AND THE WINNER IS....

Oh, welcome back to the blog. Maybe you've been in Norway, or to a wedding in Maine, or maybe you've been sitting in the backyard eating black raspberries (in which case, where do you live? I covet black raspberries). I've been to a wedding, I've met the mayor of DC, I've watched the clouds roll in and out of the sky like show curtains. And today, at last, both kids are at school (at least for a half day) and I'm back to the desk, missing them a little, relishing the quiet.

Your entries were delicious, elegant, sad, and I thank you for them all.

Everyone who entered the contest, please send me an email at [email protected] with your snail mail address and I'll send out a teeny token of my appreciation.

The winners are two, actually, because I couldn't decide between, "June, the month of ME!" (an exuberant, brave, and wonderful sentence that matches the rest of the piece) and "June is a horse race. It's the Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont all rolled into one. A thundering, earth shaking, blinders up, mad dash to the last day of school and the sweet victory of lazing in the open pastures and grazing on the blue grass of summer vacation." Wow. Just wow.

So, Lisa R. and Adrienne Campbell, please email your addresses, you are both the first ever:

MOMS WHO WRITE  Summer Contest Winners

Meanwhile, let's have at it, everyone -- and hey, if you're in my workshop and reading this and meeting up on your own for writing practice (hooray! hooray!) -- feel free to use this topic and post what you wrote:

Write about a wedding. You are in it. You are neither bride nor groom. Something at the wedding bothers you--a leaf hopper on the bride's bouquet, a cracked nail on the great-aunt's toe.

I'm asking you to stretch here, because if you can't find it in your memory, you're going to have to reach for fiction. Write about that thing that bothers you at the wedding for a good 12 minutes. Then bother us with the details.

Can't wait to hear all about it.

Comments

[Lisa R.]

“This ain’t the last you’ll see of me Sugar,” he whispered, his hot, Scotch breath a thick syrup being poured down my ear, “I’m getting married. I’m not dying.”
I had believed him, the Tequila and my own desperation making his rational easier to swallow. So when he cinched back up his belt and ran his hands through his wreaked black hair and left me on my own in the tiny coat room of the Elm Street Bar & Grill to return to his bachelor party, that I hadn’t been invited to but showed up anyway, I did not feel like all hope was lost.
But the light of day and a little hair of the dog make everything so much clearer. I’m standing here, first in line next to the bride, in this pink and green cupcake of a bridesmaid dress with a bird’s eye view of the bastard. I can feel the rage bubbling up inside of me, like a chemistry experiment gone wrong, and it’s all I can do to not spit nails out of my mouth while he smiles that million dollar smile at his adoring bride.
I should shoot the son of a bitch right here and now. And I just might have if I could’ve gotten my hands on the key to Daddy’s gun closest. I could have tucked one of those little pistols up inside my bouquet with the nose sticking right out between the daisies and got him point blank in his lying, cheating balls. But Daddy’s got that closet locked up good and tight ever since that incident with me and that fat slut Suzie Steal-a-man and he’s hidden the key somewhere even I can’t find it.
It doesn’t matter anyway, this marriage isn’t going to last. Once all the hoopla from the wedding dies down, and the tux is returned and the normal, boring day-to-day life starts, he’ll realize he made a big mistake. It’ll come to him like a slap to the back of his head that he stupidly went off and married the wrong sister.

[Gwendolen Gross]

hah! Love it, punchline and all!! You go, Lisa!

[feener]

The pill hat. A good friend got married and I was in the wedding party. She picked a pill hat to wear for herself. I just thought it looked plain silly. She is not Jackie O. It was not the 60's, it was the 90's. She is very pretty, but the hat. Oh that hat. It is typical, she is very pretty but has a certain quirckeness to her. I see the hat now in past photos and I laugh. It even had a little piece of netting over it. It was all bobbypinned to her head. I know she probably LOVED it, but really, what was the statement ???

I was in the wedding party and at least I didn't have to wear a pill hat. We even got a nice dress to wear. I watermelon colored dress that was a flattering style. She had the thinnest wedding party ever. I swear there was 6 of us and we were all stick thin. I am not sure I have ever seen anyone wear a pill box hat since, not sure I will ever see it again. I wonder if she looks back on her wedding photos and regrets it ? Or does she look back and smile and love it ? Will her kids wear it with pride or with embarrassment. Did her fiance love it ? hate it ? What does he think now.

Dare he spoke badly of it and caused a major wedding meltdown ? All I know is when asked the question of something that bothered me at a wedding this came up like a flash. I recall it very well and it was over 10 years ago. That damn pill box hat. UGHH

[Jeevita]

My cousin got married eight years ago. She was the first among us to get married and naturally we were all excited. We had been close growing up together in India, meeting up for festivals and such. And now she was getting married! Her sister and I were the only other girls among us cousins and we were going to help her get ready and made up for all the different events that were part of a traditional Indian wedding! We were having fun dressing her up, putting final touches on her face and pulling her leg about her wedding night - And then SHE came in. SHE was the groom's older sister. Heavily made up and smelling like a perfume factory, she took over and my meek eager-to-please cousin was too easy a target. We watched in horror as my cousin was transformed from beautiful bride to gaudy showpiece. Layers and layers of fake jewelry(who has the money to buy so much gold?) made the bride glitter but in an unflattering way! Layers and layers of makeup mucked up the real bauty of her face and made her appear caked and old instead. Caked, plasticky, old with lots of lipstick and lots of obviously fake looking cheap glittering jewelry - What a terrible way for a bride to look! And my cousin didn't even realize what was happening. Eight years later, her sister-in-law is just as bossy and my cousin seems just as eager to please... Some things never change.

[B. Muse]

I've always thought it's a bad idea to have a wedding outdoors. I suppose it's beautiful and easy to decorate. (I mean, what do you really have to do? A few flowers here and there, a gazebo, and you're done.) But everything else under the sun could go wrong. Crows could decide to gather in the surrounding trees and add to the musical arrangements. A dog chasing a cat followed by ten screaming children could break up the ceremony. It could be 100 degrees in the shade. And there is the inevitable weather problem.

But this is what they wanted. An outdoor wedding.

My nephew busied himself pacing between friends, waiting for his bride. He stood in the shade, he consulted with the sound man, he spoke to his father, he fidgeted.

I had nothing better to do, so I handed out cold water bottles they'd provided for the crowd waiting in the hot sun. It was important for me to keep myself busy and I was grateful for the job.

See, for my own selfish reasons, I hate weddings. I have to make myself smile and act nice, but what I really want to do is slink out, go to a movie theater, watch a horror flick and stuff myself with extra butter popcorn.

Why? So glad you asked. My own wedding was a total disaster and I'm chewing on sour grapes. Can't be more honest than that. I acquired food poisoning at the rehearsal dinner and I threw up the entire night previous to my nuptials. Then, when the morning came, I got up, feverish and still sick to my stomach, put on my wedding gown and stumbled down the isle only to faint halfway through the "I do's."

One of my mother's friends likes to describe it like this: "She was standing there one minute and the next she just (whistles the sound of something dropping) fell right over."

My entire small town still talks about it. Every time there's a wedding, they remind me of it. So, I hate them. Weddings. (OK, and the people who remind me of my own. I hate them too.)

We were instructed to gather round the gazebo and we took our places. I could catch glimpses of the bride floating through the trees of the park as she made her way to the isle, a perfect white cloud of chiffon. She was so sure of her step, so light and easy. My nephew stiffened his back and watched her levitate across the lawn until, by some miracle of buoyancy she settled softly onto the floor of the gazebo beside him. The rest was ordinary enough. Vows, rings, I do. Pictures, waiting, greeting, cake. Leaving, hugs, well wishes.

Can someone else's happiness finally, finally, take the bitter dryness of the past from your mouth? I still don't like weddings. But I liked THAT wedding. If that counts for resolution and closure, then I'll take it.