Okay...so we had to plan a wedding. We agreed this was best executed at our family ranch, which is where we were moving anyway, as no one was living there at the time, and it needed care-taking.
So, we held it right there by the lake, in front of a big hollowed out oak.
Cody, my 14 year old son, was allowed to borrow my visiting brothers Lexus to drive me down the very steep and treacherous hill, to the other side of the lake for this solemn and touching ceremony. As I somberly, and gracefully slid into the seat thru the door that Cody had so graciously opened for me, I pondered our trip down the steep hill and felt just a tad of panic rising. Cody climbed into the drivers seat in front of me and turned the key. I watched in absolute horror
as what I reasoned was an anti-theft device was triggered. The steering wheel started heading towards Cody's chest as his seat slid forward to pin him helplessly in the car. I began screaming hysterically as Cody turned and scanned with his eyes, looking for the rattlesnake, or worse, spider, which he assumed was in the back seat with me, rendering him unable to see the impending danger. I was finally able to form the words "GET OUT!!! GET OUT!!!"
As it turns out, these ridiculous vehicles have some kind of a preset position, so one doesn't have to manually adjust the seat so you can reach the brakes. Honestly, people can be so lazy....
It was about a year after we had met and the boys had grown considerably, Matt now nearly as tall as Randyman, and they had developed a style of communication that required only brainwaves and eye contact in order to read one another's minds...(hence their success at Pictionary
As we stood before the officiating minister in this austere setting...Cody glanced at Matt, who glanced at Randyman, who in turn glanced back at Matt, and then it began.
In the midst of my rapturous state, I detected a noise...starting as a small snuffling sound...then slowly building in crescendo and stereo into a full blown snarfing!!! All 3 of my men had tears in their eyes, as they were literally vibrating, trying to maintain the hysterical laughter that had enveloped them for no reason (other than the anxiety caused by wearing tuxedos in public, which was pretty intense). The self preservation instincts of their bodies was to force the overflow of this laughter past their epiglottis' and out their noses, to let off pressure.
Vows were paused until the crisis passed, leaving them with tear stained cheeks and bodies in a state of total exhaustion,
evident in their now drooping shoulders and occasional snorts as we moved to conclude the portion of the wedding that is oh-so-necessary, but all spectators are usually grateful to have behind them.
We were now man and family. Cody took off his Western Tux jacket and whipped out his fly rod, the rest of us gorged ourselves on my Dad's most excellent famous potato salad (which I MIGHT share the recipe for...I am still struggling with giving it up
) and other delicacies which had been furnished for the occasion. It really was quite beautiful. My little bridesmaids, who were actually Randyman's young daughters whom I have not mentioned previously to protect the innocent, crawled on logs and played horsie, and swiped fingerfuls of icing off of the wedding cake. The rest of the night shall remain confidential.
We had planned a honeymoon. We decided we should start our new family life, as a family! So we actually invited 18 members of our extended family to go on a waterski trip with us. One word of caution...DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. (or anywhere else, for that matter
I quickly realized that Randyman had been insulated by heavy workclothes for many years, and the first day at the lake, as he was wearing a mere T-shirt, his formerly unseen, lily white skin went screaming for cover and left him resembling a big, red Michelin man. He was NOT very comfortable, which became only a secondary problem, as we DID have 18 people with us. I might mention here, that his brother and sister in law had brought a motor home, but Randy and I slept in a tent, next to the tents of his mother, and the kids...
Determined to have a Honeymoon no one would forget, we allowed Matt to drive the ski boat and shuttle the entire group including small children, to a little island WAY out on the lake to set up a day camp. I want to mention here, that I was, and remain to this day, a worrywart. I have to muster all that is within me to keep from freaking out when I am being chauffered by people who still have to be reminded daily, to change their underwear and brush their teeth
. I know this shows a serious lack of faith on my part, but God is still working on me.
While our companions took turns skiing and towing everyone else on the "bullet", a rubber torpedo lookin thing with handles and a little rope to hook onto, I sat on land, watching in horror as Randyman sizzled like bacon. There wasn't a bit of shade in sight. I think I could audibly hear his skin sizzle and pop. But we had planned this to be a memorable trip, which it was, and we had just paid to have a very expensive, brand new speed prop put on the boat. After discovering Randyman doesn't actually like to swim, (the honeymoon location was clearly one of millions of concessions he was going to make in the future. I guess its just his punishment for being a stalker)
. I decided I would go skiing, and leave him to crisp up a bit.
Matt picked me up and out on the lake we went. I jumped in the water, shoved my foot into the boot of my slalom ski, grabbed ahold of the rope handles and yelled, in my most athletic voice..."HIT IT!"
I heard the engine of the boat increase in RPM's as it revved up loudly, and began to whine...gripping with all my strength, eyes closed, I kept my tip up out of the water and waited...and waited...and waited...the boat finally became very quiet and I looked up to see Matt and Cody armed with wooden paddles, rowing towards me. Our brand new, nifty, very expensive, speed prop, had come unscrewed and had just sunk to the bottom of Lake Nacimiento.
The next several hours the girls and I began to rival Randyman's bright red hue, as the boys hitched a ride in a jetboat to the marina, to get my creditcard out of the tent, then take our truck 2 hours away to buy a new prop, drive back, hitch another ride, and repair the boat.
I was determined to ski.
We repeated the former routine, only this time, when the boat revved up... I found myself jerked OUT of the skiboot, and sailing thru the air, only to be slapped down on the water in an Olympic quality bellyflop. The rubber boot had chosen this particular trip to tear its complete length, and eject me, so we now had NO slalom ski. Not to be discouraged, I swallowed my pride and requested the double skis. This time, the rope for reasons that still escape me, broke at the handle. So we unloaded the bullet. That rope had broken off earlier, and I suspect it had something to do with compromising our ski rope. We proceeded to tie the remainder of the tow rope onto the rubber handle which is incorporated into the body of the rubber bullet.
For those who might be curious, there is no loud noise when the entire handle assembly is yanked off of a rubber pool bullet. It's really very quiet, or at least it seemed that way to me, as I slowly sank, watching the boat with my children disappear off in the distance without me.
As everyone was finally shuttled back to land, Matt thought it would be a fine idea to let his pretty new cousin, Amy, (a year younger than himself
) drive the boat. Remember my mentioning a little problem I have with young drivers? It was cemented into my subconciousness to be forever hopelessly without a cure, as Amy chose, at high speed, to cross the wake of another boat. After the boat landed back on the lake I scrambled to my knees in the back and realized I was looking straight into Amy's eyes. The driver's seat was EMPTY! The force of the 'bounce' had lifted her and deposited her between Randy and I in the rear of the boat, and we were all hurtling across the lake at top speed with no one at the wheel. That's all I remember before my mind went blank.
After recovering sufficiently to climb ashore, I hoped this wasn't an omen of how the rest of our relationship was going to go. The rest of the week, as I pruned up in the water, and Randyman roasted on the beach, no two people ever looked forward more eagerly to the end of their honeymoon...
In the 16 years since I married the axe-murderer, he has graciously put up with a sheep and her 2 premature lambs taking temporary quarter on a bale of straw in our breakfast nook, a very lethargic and stressed baby goat sleeping between us in the waterbed... (no people, this is NOT normal procedure, but they were critical, and well...so cute and cuddly...
) and a score of other bizarre behaviors that would test the mettle and patience of any good man. But please know, that alas, alack, Randyman is NOT perfect.
He is a lousy speller, he doesn't speak much, and he won't dance in public. He has been known to trip on his tongue, such as the time I was bemoaning my aches, pains and effects of aging and gravity on my poor carcass and whined "I want my old
To which he replied...
"Is it older than the one you've got now?"
I am sadly aware that it is the habit of some women to look beyond what they have been given, and let their eyes and more sadly, their minds, drool over pin-up boys, rock stars and beefcakes, and suffer the "I wonder ifs"...
but have you ever looked up and seen a star so bright, you can't take your eyes off of it and you don't notice the other stars surrounding it? Well, its been 16 some years and Randyman still shines.not
to be continued...but possibly
to be followed up, from time to time... and photos may be uploaded, depending on the timing of my future mobility...