Well, I’m home (points for those who recognized this as a LOTR reference. Negative points for those who don’t know what LOTR stands for–please get a life) and there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that I can now read in the car without vomiting and the bad news is that no one noticed my haircut. I literally had to point it out to everyone before they would even compliment me. On the bright side, because of my reading-in-the-car-abilities, I laughed my way through Bossypants (by Tina Fey) and didn’t think about ralphing even once.
I just arrived back in OKC from five days with people who elongate their o’s just slightly, are too polite to comment on the fact I wore the same dress two days in a row, and say things like, “I just love her!” to my sisters seconds after meeting me. Some of them said slightly culturally inappropriate things like, “Oh! Your cowgirl boots and dress are so cute! It’s so different from the way we dress up here!” or “It was just so nice to meet you people!” And then I wondered if maybe in Chicagoland the phrases “you people” and “different” have positive connotations, because in Boston I learned that those terms tend to define what we call “the other.”
At any rate, the attendees at both the bachelorette party and bridal shower were sweet, down-to-earth Midwesterners who bequeathed my sister with a mountain of gifts that any thief would be lucky to steal. Though many of the women at her bridal shower were complete strangers to my sister, they were all extremely kind and watched with great attention and wonderful oooo’s as the bride-to-be tore an entire forest of wrapping paper off of her presents, revealing all kinds of variations on kitchenware, home decorations, and headlamps.
The bachelorette party was particularly fun, if tame by societal standards. One of the raunchiest highlights was when we played “pin the kiss on the hunk” and someone (gasp!) didn’t aim for the mouth. Can you even do that? The bridal shower was equally tame, though well catered, and held in a home that prioritized the use of the words “faith, love, and hope” in its decoration. There was, however, a question about how many kids the husband wanted to have that caused some minor blushing. Apparently he wants a baker’s dozen, but it’s okay because babies are brought to the chimney by a monster that lives in neighborhood ponds.
Through this experience, I learned that there some things associated with my co-maid of honor position that I am not good at. One of them is wearing above-the-knee-dresses. Another is decorating anything. However, with a crockpot and a recipe in my hands, I become Martha Stewart herself, minus the prison sentence. The same goes with a telephone and a list of strangers to call. These are my fortes, in addition to having a high platelet count, and I look forward to implementing them in the coming 3.5 weeks of wedding preparation.
Coming up this week: a review of my year in Cairo, my one-year blog anniversary, and a job-finding celebration (hopefully.)