2022 Edition – “The Winter of our Discontent”

It is now the 12^th of December and I am, again, attempting to craft the yearly delight which is my Christmas Letter.  There are years in which this comical masterpiece writes itself.  2022 was not one of those years.  Good things happened to us. Funny things happened too! (Just not the last four months.)  Come on, people. I’m having to write around a devastating hurricane here. Should I start out funny then bring the room down?  Should I just hope things seem much funnier tomorrow? (This is how things got to Dec 12 to begin with.) But are we already to the point in life where we are, say, graphically describing our bowel surgery? (I know you have been the recipient of such Christmas letters.) Or how hard you had it after the hurricane? Because I do not want to be that person.  It’s not very Christmassy (I didn’t have bowel surgery.)  At this point, though, I’m up against a deadline.  (I know how you people are the week between Christmas and New Years – you’re full of cheese and don’t know what day it is.)   I’m just going to roll the dice and hope for the best. 

I will never forget the moment when this fun pajama/movie day became a Category 5 hurricane.  Any day that you find yourselves planning a vertical escape from your house – is a day where nothing funny is going to happen.  No, wait!  Something funny did happen.  So – at the point of “vertical escape plan” we began throwing things into a tote for us to take up into the attic (if necessary).  Medications, money, ID’s, and baggies for electronics.  Dry clothes, a box of granola bars, and water to drink.  And an axe!  (Which made things fun – but unfortunately not funny).  Seeing how we were about to lose all our material possessions – we agreed we needed to bring something funny with us.  Because – makes for a good story, right? Husband threw in his Participation Medal from the 2014 Wood River Triathlon.  (So when the helicopter spotted us, they would know they picked a winner.) I threw in a flower crown and my red lipstick – because I was already thinking of my October photos.   But no – nothing funny happened with the hurricane. RIP to the life I was living up to Sept 27th because it was entirely blown away.

BEFORE THAT THOUGH! So, prior to Ian, I had put in an entire year in the wedding world. As you might imagine, my job (RIP) could be quite stressful. But there was always something magic that happened and I loved seeing it come together. You know I saw some shit though, right? People are both their best and their worst on days like that. (It depends on who’s footing the bill!) I can assure you that regardless of what went on that morning or who melted down during the day – every wedding turned out amazing in the end. Each year for my Christmas Letter – I hope that something ridiculous will happen to me.  Not harmful – just ridiculous.   And, up till the hurricane, the shining star of my 2022 Christmas Letter was “The Worst Wedding in The World.” ™ I lament that I am unable to do it full justice.  The tragedy of this day was magnificent.  (Everything still turned out amazing.) Blah, blah HURRICANE – I don’t want to be insensitive and pretend that didn’t happen – but talking about Ian has necessitated condensing “The Worst Wedding In The World”™ down to it’s main points. 

1. The bride and groom were both native Floridians and yet had decided to get married outside during the hottest time of the year – rainy season.
2. The bride didn’t listen to anything I’d ever said or read anything I’d sent her. This caused a lot of confusion and frustration leading up to the day itself. It was like “Who’s On First” only with linens and layouts.
3. For some unknown reason (I’m pretty sure it was personal against me) the bride had instructed her guests to be in their seats (full sun at that) at 3:15pm (for a 4pm wedding.) I became aware of this at 3:15.
4. Shortly after this, I turned around and there was a 3-tiered, unboxed wedding cake being carried by its creator.  I am informed that “bride did not tell me this cake was going to be outside. This cake can’t sit outside. It will melt in 15 min.”  The cake in question had large, real seashells stuck (not anchored – just stuck) around the sides of it.  I offer the large walk-in fridge but the baker insists this will ‘shock the cake’.  It will make it weep, she says.  (The cake and I have this in common.) I offer my office (A/C) and didn’t think I needed to add “but please not right in the middle of my desk on top of all my papers” and live to regret this.
5. The wedding officiant has arrived with her coiffed, Botoxed, shellacked TV evangelist-looking husband.   Wedding officiant tells me that she’s never married anyone before.  She’s done hundreds of funerals, though.   I’m not sure either one of us knows how she came to be at this wedding or why she was chosen.  As it is quite hot that day – I offer my office (A/C) for them to wait in.  They join the rapidly melting cake.  Each time I find myself in my office I receive a status report of how many seashells have fallen off the cake and how many the coefficients husband has diligently stuck back on. Fortunately – this is always the same number.
6. I was on day 3 of a migraine and at this point, it’s likely being compounded by heatstroke. 
7. The same bride who instructed her guests to be in their seats at 3:15 does not come down to get married till 4:35.
8. I watch this slow-moving procession take place with enormous relief – but something looks off to me. When they reach me, I can see what it is – someone is behind the bride, clutching the train of her dress so it will not make contact with the grass.  The person is hunched over and waist level to the bride (I’m assuming to avoid being photographed) like one of those 2-people horse costumes – and follows bride all the way up to the front like this, thereby pretty much getting in all the pictures anyway.  
9. There is a song I dislike enough to flee any space where it comes on. In makes me terribly sad. Irrevocably sad. So I am not at all surprised when I hear the gentle notes of Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years” wafting up through the humid air. And I flee.
10. I reach the refuge of my office (which is now blessedly free of officiant, botoxed husband AND melting cake!) planning to sit down, breathe a minute, and hydrate. Instead, I hit the edge of my chair (which is on wheels so it shoots several feet behind me) fall to the ground, hitting my tailbone and having – what we call in the middle-age lady crowd “urinary stress incontinence.” I do not have time to deal with this. But I clean up the best I can – wash out my unmentionables in the sink, panic and shove them in my purse to deal with later. And off I go again.
11. The ceremony ends and I see officiant swimming upstream (through guests trying to reach the shade of the reception) to ask if I have the couples marriage license.  I do not.  That is not my job.  She says – they are being dodgy when I ask them about it.  What if they aren’t legally married?  What should I do?  WHAT SHOULD I DO?! And that was the last I saw of officient.  Are they legally married to this day?  I don’t know.
12. Reinforcements arrive and I leave the wedding reception to drive myself to the Emergency Room as my migraine has gone into high gear.
13. I make quite an entrance at the downtown ER on a Saturday night in my black satin cocktail dress, 2 petticoats and pearls, sweaty hair, and a crazed look in my eye.  The admissions person takes all of this in then calmly asks for my ID and insurance card which I happily retrieve from my purse.
14. Anyone?  Any guesses on what happens next?
15. IF you guessed that the undercrackers in my purse (which I’d entirely forgotten about) hitched a ride out with my wallet and landed on the admissions desk – you’d be right!

Now we’re getting somewhere!  

Daugher got married this past May! Of all the weddings I attended this year, theirs was my favorite. (Of course!) They wanted a very small private ceremony with just both sets of parents. Let me tell you what, people. During all the meetings I had with mothers of the brides last year, not a one of them asked if I felt sad about that. In fact, I got “lucky!” more than once. It was lovely. Son-in-law is in the military, stationed in North Carolina where they and their 2 dogs live. Daughter continues to kick tail at everything she does.  She’s a strong, tough compassionate young woman and we are so proud of her!

Son is still living in the Kansas City area (where we are all traveling to next week to celebrate Christmas.)  Son and I finally got to attend the concert we purchased tickets to in 2019.  Honestly, looking back, that concert, seemed to set a series of unfortunate events in motion. Nothing was quite right after that (Ian came shortly afterwards.) But we had fun, though! Son’s artistic ability grows by the year and he’s currently with a company that restores the interiors of classic cars.  He is living the introvert’s dream with 3 other introverts and a large gaming set-up and life is good.

Husband had a big year!  He joined Rotary International (I joined a few months after him) and is currently our club President.  He biked the Katy Trail for the 5^th time in May. (My plans to join him in this endeavor have been thwarted by covid and work. Maybe next year.)  Husband said goodbye to his MG and hello to an old truck we didn’t even know was popular (1984 Chevy C-10 square body.)  It survived Ian!  The neighborhood was wrecked, looked like a bomb had gone off but the truck did just fine.

(Terence and I rolling into the end of the year – I’d say he took the challenges of 2022 a little better than I did!)