I’m one step closer to what I like to call, “The Inevitable” or as it’s more widely known, the pending Spotswood-Newsom Nuptuals. ‘Why, nutjob, is this?’ you’re probably asking yourselves. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because Gavin just launched a new WINERY, set to open in the Spring of 2008 with a lavish launch of a new wine (and huge, black tie, outdoor wedding to, most likely, me.)
Speaking of winery weddings, I recently attended the wedding of my 2nd cousin, a lovely person I see once a year. Seeing people once a year means they know exactly what you’re like under only very specific circumstances. As a result, and for a myriad of reasons you can probably imagine, my cousins think I’m weird. I’m not being paranoid. My cousin Michael filled me in.
So for this wedding, I was hell bent on behaving and keeping my big yapper shut. I’ll fully acknowledge that I’m incredibly strange and unlikely to change, but I’ve been looking to squash my rep as the family freak and this was my big chance.
It didn’t help that we arrived late, walking into the garden ceremony in the middle of the vows. Nor did it help that my mother convinced herself we were all to be dressed up, when it reality, we could’ve dressed slightly more casual. Thus, I sported black flats for the ceremony and kept gold, glittered flip flops in my handbag. Needless to say, standing on the grass sipping my cosmo at the reception right out of J. Crew, I quickly switched to my flops, attempting to shove my flats into my packed purse. Kicking all of the possessions under the table, I flip-flopped it around all evening long, and spent most of my time avoiding embarrassing myself by drinking at my table with my brother and cousin Michael. Finally, Alex and I decided to dance and while slightly trashed at this point, I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything heinous. I mean, I could’ve grabbed a microphone and announced to the crowd how not weird I am. But I restrained myself and left the wedding somewhat pleased with my comparatively normal behavior.
Finally home, I gathered my belongings from my parents’ car and headed to my own. Here’s my keys, my wallet, my phone, my camera, my make-up and my shoe.
Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Crazy Cousin Beth stumbled out of the wedding with one shoe on, they must be thinking. I mean, how else can you explain her leaving one SHOE under her dinner table?
Whatever. I give up. Who cares?
They’ll be singing a different tune at a different winery in the Spring of 2008…