Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.
— John Lennon

I had planned — nay, resolved — to write more in 2020. But then some family issues cropped up that required attention, as did my work. Now, though, things appear to have righted themselves, so I poured myself a glass of wine (and a bowl of Ruffles potato chips … love those ridges!), and here I am.

Just last weekend, Carrie and I had the privilege to attend the wedding of the daughter of our dear friends, Steve and Merrill. Yes, that’s the Steve from the golf outings, if you’ve been following along. Plus, we had the additional honor of being seated at their table.

As great as that was — and it was — I’ll admit here and now that I felt a little pressure. You see, Merrill and Steve are what we call “party people.” And man, as we get older, nothing makes you feel your age so much as being at a six-hour dance party!

Of course, you have to get up and dance. You don’t want to be the old people sitting at their table while the rest of the party, well, parties!
“Look at that cute old couple. Why are they even here?”
“They could have left after the cocktail hour, and no one would have cared.”
“They’re not adding ANYTHING to this party!”

But Carrie and I are nothing if not troupers, so we joined the crowd on the dance floor. Not a minute into our first dance, young people were pinballing off me like I was the side rail of a billiards table. First, an elbow to the back of my head. Then a hip to my ass. I could hear the imaginary party referee: “OVERZEALOUS MOVEMENT.. 10 YARDS FROM THE SPOT OF THE INFRACTION.. REPEAT THE PLAY!”

And so, we were dancing.
“It’s so crowded, and LOUD!” I said to Carrie.
“WHAT?”
“I SAID, IT’S SO CROWDED AND LOUD,” leaning an inch away from her ear.
“DO YOU WANT TO SIT DOWN?”
“YES, BUT THERE’S NO WAY I’M GOING TO!”
“WHAT??”
“FORGET IT… LET’S DANCE.”

I scanned the tables, to see if there were any couples seated, who could give us some cover if I decided to sit. No such luck. It was a great party, and EVERYONE was up and having a good time. So good, in fact, that there was literally no line at the bar! Unheard of!!

We soldiered on, starting to feel like Jane Fonda in “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” (Google it, kids.)

“WHY ARE YOU DANCING LIKE THAT?” Carrie asked me.
“MY FOOT HURTS FROM THESE DAMNED TUXEDO SHOES AND MY BACK IS SPASM-ING!”
“BUT YOU LOOK GOOD!”
“THANKS.. ARE YOU DANCE-LIMPING?”
“YEAH, MY KNEE IS KILLING ME!”
“WANT TO SIT DOWN?” I ask.
“NO FUCKING WAY!”

Weird thing about this wedding (or my wife). I would get a drink, put it down on the table, dance, and when I returned for refreshment, the drink was gone. Either they had an overly aggressive table-busing policy, or Carrie was up to something. She denied it. So, I’ll blame the venue for the disappearing bourbons.

Suddenly, the obligatory Motown set. “I know you want to leave me…” I sang. Carrie said, “I DO want to leave you!” She’s such a kidder. We (I) had a chuckle and limped/stooped back onto the dance floor.

Looked at my watch. Ten o’clock. Another two hours, then the after-party. Lord, give me strength.

Long story shorter, we survived the night, had a truly fun time, and were so over-the-moon thrilled to be a part of their big night. We actually stayed to the end of the after-party, and I gave Carrie the honor of driving us home. Don’t know why she didn’t see it that way.

I tore off the tux and collapsed into the bed. I could have been asleep in five seconds, except…

“Don’t forget to put your sleep mask on.”

To quote Charlie Brown… AAARGHH!!!!