Good morning my wonderful daughter,
This shall truly be the final instalment of The S & G Wedding Chronicles - enjoy.
Part V - The Rest of The Remains of The Day
At 10:00 p.m. sharp, the Republic of China began it's firework display for the annual Celebration of Light competition in English Bay. Our family had the perfect vantage point amongst the silk pillows on the stylish micro suede 'family banquette' from which to observe the sparkling explosions. Nana Moe, however, sat upon a different banquette and was missing the fireworks altogether (or was she?) as she was engrossed in animated conversation with a rather sleek looking young fellow who was dressed with a flair for European elegance in a pair of especially well-fitting dark trousers and a slightly oversized crisp white shirt, open at the neck so as to reveal just the merest hint of the agile young muscled torso beneath. The two seemed oblivious to the outside world as they sipped wine behind three tall vases of tiny pineapples on sticks and banana leaves. The handsome stranger had longish swept back blonde hair and seemed almost too good-looking and was particularly attentive ... I squinted narrowly in his direction so as to better focus my inborn-loved-one-protective-radar-emergency-alert-system, inherited from a long line of vigilant matriarchs on my great-great-grandmother Hogg's side. In my brain I heard boom-boom-boom - was it the alert system I was hearing/feeling, or was it the fireworks below which I fleetingly noted were somewhat "off" as their red, green, and white colours were not quite properly co-ordinated with the silk pillows, wedding invitations, billowing lamp post silk, bridesmaids' bouquets, groomsmen's boutonnieres, and the quadrants of the Warhol-esque canvas. But I digress ... back to the issue at hand - I began to wonder about that petite wedding planner and her boundless imagination and resources ... was it possible? Had we a gigolo in our midst?! I quickly banished the thought, acknowledging that my emergency alert system might quite possibly be somewhat impaired by the freely flowing libations and by my preoccupation with mini hamburgers with mini pickles on festive picks. However, I kept one eye on my mother as her flirtatious feminine laughter rang out and the handsome young brute tilted his elegant head and smiled.
Meanwhile, nestled in a silk pillow-festooned corner of the same long banquette upon which the mildly suspicious tête-à-tête was taking place, I espied little Anna, all innocence and sound asleep with her grandmother Cummings keeping a watchful eye at her side, and there was grandfather Cummings, sitting across from her and clanking two shot glasses together in time with the music. Ah, you party animal, Ian Cumming, I thought, before I realized a server was making the rounds with shot glasses filled with milk and a tray of sugar cookies. I was impressed to see that the iced surfaces of the large cookies featured edible photo reproductions of the happy bride and groom, and of course also of the S & G logo. I collected a few cookies to send to you with Maurissa next week, my darling, and chose a shot glass of Kalua rather than one of milk from the proffered tray of the tireless server.
As I wandered outside again onto the patio, I saw GB dancing with his mother and my heart was filled with gladness. Uncle Graham and cousin Niki watched this happy moment from the sidelines and I could feel the fullness of their hearts and see Auntie Candy's face aglow with happiness and pride. Later in the evening, as the volume of the music increased and all manner of dance styles graced the floor, I peered outside through the S & G logo-etched window toward the live band and dance floor and saw cousin Wally dancing with Auntie Candy. I didn't at first recognize Wally's dance steps nor how they fit with the music, however, after carefully studying his twitching movements I realized he had very cleverly devised a combination of the funky chicken and the dance steps from Pulp Fiction and Saturday Night Fever, designed to add belly-laughter to the smile already upon Candy's face. Next I espied your charming father, dancing with wild abandon with a sexy woman in a low cut knee length dress who definitely knew how to "shake her booty" - oh my goodness! It was Katrina! and before I knew it a rather loud and unseemly "Wooooo-hoooooo! Go Girl!" escaped from my Kalua whetted lips.
By this time Uncle Doug, Auntie Fellette, and cousin Craig (with some reluctance, I thought), cousin Jeanette and Robert had taken their leave and I was thinking it was very nearly time for your father and I to depart as well. However, Uncle Robbie informed me I could not possibly leave until I had managed to extricate our mother from the clutches of the suspected gigolo; before I was able to ponder how best to go about launching what I expected to be a delicate extrication process, Nana Moe stood and bid her charming companion adieu. At the very next moment your father appeared at my side and, lo and behold, he had a very thoughtful and special gift for me - yes! It was a mini hamburger with a mini pickle on top held all together with a festive pick! The evening couldn't have ended on a more perfect note!
It was after midnight when we said our good-byes to Auntie Candy, Uncle Graham, Suzanne, GB, and others. Uncle Robbie, Nana Moe, cousin Wally, Katrina, your father and I descended the mountain in a near-empty gondola carriage, but not before we had collected our take away black S & G logo labelled and two-toned teal and chartreuse ribbon enwrapped guest boxes of mini-bar treats. As we walked towards our respective cars in the dim light and coolness of the Grouse Mountain parking lot now devoid of sweaty hikers, the six of us breathed a collective sigh and agreed that it had been "some wedding", the likes of which we might never see again, although I must say that the joyful sense of contentment and hope for the future that is connected with a family wedding were common to us all and shall no doubt be an integral part of family weddings to come.
Have a good day at work, darling.
LOVE YOUR WONDERFUL MOTHER
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment