This coming Saturday, my uncle John is getting married for the first time at the age of 47. I’ve spent the better part of the last few days trying to figure out what shoes to wear with my new fabulous dress and working out a way to slide a Princess Bride quote into the ceremony without completely embarrassing him in front of his new in-laws.
But I’ve also been exchanging emails with his soon-to-be wife, Tiffany, who I don’t know very well, but have spent some time with and always liked. She’s unconditionally sweet and pretty quiet, but she’s outdoorsy and fun and she and my uncle seem really happy together. She’s not particularly girly, so I’ve been curious to see what her wedding will be like. I sent her an email a couple weeks ago offering to help with anything I can this weekend. In her emails, she’s been a riot.
Last Friday I told her I’d be getting into town late Wednesday and I’d be happy to help with any prep stuff after that. She replied:
“Have you called into work sick yet? You can come and watch me parade around in my dress. I do this nightly — but, I don’t tell John about it. Exhausting being the princess.”
Then today, my cousin Kristin and I told her we’d help with the centerpieces at the reception. Kristin asked how Tiff was holding up:
“Things are going OK here – I’m just down to small stuff mostly. Hair extensions, collagen for my lips, fine-tuning my tattoos, … and shoes – I don’t have the stupid shoes yet!”
This is gonna be an awesome wedding.
The day after I posted this, I was chatting with Tiffany online:
T: I was thinking today that you’d be laughing at me
T: I was sitting around with Nair on my legs and whitener on my teeth
Oh, and Nair on my lips
M: I’m laughing already
T: So now I’m sitting around with Neosporin on my lips
a slight rash
(I mean above my lips, of course) (I’m not that strange)
M: You poor thing!
That sounds terrible
T: I admit I’m a little worried
Oh well. I need to go mow the lawn. I’ll see you tonight!