Sheldon Takes the Plunge

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