Our baby girl, Sheldon, did the deed and wedded the
Brit last weekend. Once I raced to the finish line running purely on
adrenaline, my body retaliated by giving me a crappy cold to punish me. Thus the delay in my recounting of this tale.
At first I thought I was losing my voice from endless conversation and perhaps
a teeny tiny hangover. But no, I have spent the whole week chugging orange
juice like a frat boy and grain alcohol gone bad.
The royal event was the culmination to a topsy
turvy season. Nerdy Sheldon had been having a sucky time with a particular
class that she was taking for the FOURTH time that she needed to graduate. She would return red eyed and blotchy from
advising appointments without resolution. I called for a parent teacher conference with
the ASU counselor for my 23 year old weeper.
I forced the advisor, who was a theater rather math major, to bring in
the head of the department. They shared
that they understood they were having an “issue” with this class since 50
percent of the little geeks failed. The
heavily German accented math head said it was because they didn’t do enough
proof classes in high school. Well Toto, she had all A’s before this and she
ain’t going back in time. After 15 weeks
of tearful tragedy, she passed and we walked together from ASU. Thankyoubabyjesus,
mommycouln’ttakeanymoredrama.
The reason I share this side story is to demonstrate
what a crybaby Sheldon is. She cried at the wedding rehearsal, walk down the
aisle, during her vows, during communion, hugging me on the way out of the
church, daddy-daughter dance. I am a sympathy crier, if you turn on the
waterworks; I am snatching tissues out of your hands to blot my own tears. At
this point I was immune; I did not shed a single drip. The Big Tuna was a bit more misty, the next
day when the newlyweds packed up for their move to California he had a bit of a
breakdown. He started crying and
laughing uncontrollably, I thought he was having some kind of weird stroke, it
scared the dogs. Here is a new recipe I
tried this week, not bad or hard.
Easy Chicken Pie
2 cups cooked chicken breast
10 ounce package mixed vegetables-I found one with
green beans and corn
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
½ cup water
½ parmesan cheese
1 package refrigerated biscuits
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. In skillet, combine
all ingredients except for biscuits and heat until bubbling. Transfer to 2
quart casserole dish. Cut biscuits into quarter and place on top of meat
mixture. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes or until golden brown.
A few young ladies claimed to have gotten a stomach
bug, I’m thinking it was the bridesmaid flu.
The cheerful little one shared that they didn’t get to bed until 4 AM
and didn’t really drink too too much.
Only one puked in the bushes. This freaked out my friend Nurse Nancy who
works at the CDC. She spent the entire
weekend verifying health stats and picked up preventative anti nausea medicine
for the flight home. She practically
curled into the fetal position when she spotted my dad Buzz kissing ladies
hands. Planting one on old ladies wrists
at the senior center must be proving advantageous, he could hardly wait to
play that move at every vaguely eligible lady at the reception.
I, of course, can hold my liquor. Just me and my
drunk girlfriends on the dance floor spinning flower girls like tops. But I
know the love call of my man. Once Love
Shack starts thumping, it pricks the Big Tuna’s primal senses and he bounds
onto the scene like a love sick moose. It is his personal mating call, works every time. Good luck baby
girl, we wish you and the Brit the same love and adoration we’ve shared for 30
years. XOXOXO, Mom and Dad
