In which Primo is a Bad Muffin Eater

That is what my lovely aunt Pat presented to us when Primo and I stopped in to see her and my uncle Hank. (Hank is my dad's brother.)

Aunt Pat, if you will remember, is the angel who made a pitcher of Old Fashioneds for my dad's going-away party when he was in the hospice. He was less than a week from dying. We have everyone who could come - he was in the hospital 35 miles from the town where he and my mom grew up and where much of my family still lives today - join us in his room at the hospice.

We had a bottle of champagne and Pat's Old Fashioneds - because my dad had said she always did make the best Old Fashioneds - and we talked about everyone he would see in heaven, including his father, his best friend, who had died in a ship's fire in 1967, and our cat. (That's my sister feeding O'Malley in the photo below.)

I don't think the death of a 62 year old man who was loved pretty much universally is a good thing, but if you can have a good death, my dad's death was OK. He was surrounded by people who loved him and whom he loved and he knew he was loved.

Aside - my uncle John, who is in his mid 50s, was diagnosed with multiple myeloma a year ago. He is doing well after his bone marrow transplant next month and we are full of hope. But last year, he told my mom, his sister, that if he died, he wouldn't feel cheated. He said he had had a good life with good people and felt as if he had been lucky.

Back to my aunt Pat.

Primo and I went to see her and my uncle. They are a hoot. My uncle used to drive the beer delivery truck to Milwaukee when they were dating and they would go to Milwaukee to visit relatives and go out. I asked if they had read the book, Dirty Helen, a memoir by a madam who had a bar in Milwaukee.

Oh honey. They had been to her bar!

One cannot visit one of my relatives without having food offered to you immediately. You walk in the door and are offered food and drink. You are fussed over and great attention is paid to your comfort.

(Which is one of the reasons I was so confused the first time I met Sly and Doris. I was a guest in their home and they offered me nothing! That was not The Song of My People. We feed guests. It is what we do.)

Pat brought us water and a plate of muffins - blueberry and bran.

Primo, as you all know, doesn't like anything that ends with "-erry," although he will eat tendon and tripe.

He is weird.

Primo started eating his muffin - and discovered raisins.

So he carefully picked them all out and left them on his plate. (Which is photo #1.) You can see the raisins stacked neatly on the right side of the plate.

Like I said. Weird.

"What are you doing?" asked Pat.

I rolled my eyes.

"I don't like raisins," Primo said guiltily.

"Oh," she said.

"He is a Bad Muffin Eater," I explained.

"What is a Bad Muffin Eater?" 

So we told her the story of how Sly was upset about how I eat my bacon.

She almost fell to the floor laughing.

When we left, she gave us six muffins and two jars of homemade pickles.

Because that's how My People are.

Dang. No wonder Primo was depressed thinking about his parents and the crummy family hand he was dealt.

Below is the sausage my cousin gave us. Yes, that entire cooler is filled with venison summer sausage, breakfast sausage, and bratwurst. I think those are some of their hot dogs as well and of course there is venison bacon.

I won the Family Lottery. Not because they give me stuff, but because they are kind, thoughtful people whose presence enriches my life.

(The cousin who gave us the sausage? She is the one who drove 70 miles round trip to the hospice when we were staying there with my dad in the last few days to bring us supper. That's the kind of people I have in my family. Man. I am so, so lucky.)

In which I discover how easy it is to drive an engineer crazy

OK. I lied. I didn't just discover this.

I have known it for years.

It bothers me, but not as much as it bothers Primo.

So yeah - I do it on purpose. 

Is that wrong? :)

In which Primo admits I AM RIGHT

Primo: You were right about the white space.

Me: I know.*

Primo: It takes me a lot to admit that!

Me: It shouldn't.

Primo: But I am my father's son. Other people can't be right. Only a [Sly's last name] can.

Me: I am not a [Sly's last name].

Primo: I am.


* Primo, in true engineer fashion, wanted to bunch everything up in the center. I am not a graphic artist, but I do have a better sense for these things than Primo does. He spaced things out a little more, but still not enough for my taste. I take my victories where I can, though.

** It's for a political event that happens in two hours. That he has known about for three months. For which he bought the posterboard and the frame last night. And started assembling two hours ago. At least he didn't leave it to the last minute.

In which Ted sends Primo an email on Doris' birthday and then calls on Sly's birthday, a few days later, causing more stress than he alleviates (which is How Ted Is Always)

Ted has not been a jerk recently.

We are concerned.

Primo thinks perhaps Ted has had A Change of Heart and is not Not A Jerk, but I say that when people have A SINCERE Change of Heart, it's because they realize they have been jerks and have hurt people and that part of the COH is APOLOGIZING FOR WHAT THEY HAVE DONE, along with a statement of intent that they will not repeat the behavior.

I do not trust Ted. I know more jerkiness is in the future. It's just that right now, Primo doesn't have anything Ted wants.

That is, with the death of Ted'sWife's mother, Ted and his wife got some cash - thank goodness because they had to remodel their house and take a family vacation to Switzerland, ONE OF THE MOST EXPENSIVE COUNTRIES IN THE WORLD.

(I have not even been to Switzerland, except for that hour in the airport in Zurich once. Fabulous chocolate.)

They apparently have some cash and do not need to worry about selling Doris' jewelry - remember Primo searched through Doris' jewelry to find the bracelet that Doris had allegedly promised to Ted'sWife and sent what he could find only for Ted and Ted'sWife to complain that this was costume jewelry? And so Primo, after pulling some of the nicer pieces for our nieces, dumped the entire contents of Doris' jewelry box into a container and mailed it to Ted, which ticked Ted off, which made me happy because TED SHUT UP. She wasn't even your mother!

Where was I?

Oh. Ted has not been a jerk. Primo, the eternal optimist, thinks Ted has changed.

I think he is just biding his time.

Last week was Doris' birthday. Ted sent an email.

"Don't answer it," I said.

"If I don't, he'll call me," Primo said.

A few days later was Sly's birthday.

Ted called.

"We're TALKERS!" Ted has said before when Primo has refused Ted's requests to talk about Ted'sSon's trust.

Yeah. And, as I think some of you had pointed out, Ted doesn't want a written record of transactions for his son's trust AND he thinks he can bamboozle Primo if he talks to him rather than putting everything in writing.

Primo took the call.

I wouldn't have, but then, I would never get a call from Ted - I have blocked him on every form of communication that exists.

So. That's the background, just 20 paragraphs in.

After he talked to Ted, Primo and I had a huge fight. He was angry that I used his mom's cake server to get some sauerkraut tart (shockingly delicious) out of the pan. I had used a press in the pan crust and it stuck and I had to scrape it out with the server.

Primo claimed I had bent the tip of the server, which was BS - crust cannot bend silver so whatever.

He was angry - said I hated his parents (mostly true) and didn't even want his last name (also true, but he had never mentioned being bothered by that before) and other stuff that I can't remember. It's been so long since we have had a blowout fight - more than two years, I think? - that I was busy thinking, "Wow! When was the last time we had a fight like this?"

I finally said, "This is not about the server! You are cranky about something! What's going on?"

"I don't have anyone from my family who's alive anymore," he said. "My sister is dead. My parents are dead. I don't really know Ted and Jack and I don't really want to. I have nobody."

Which is true. We had just returned from visiting my family upstate - I have 29 first cousins. My mom has six siblings and my dad has two, so I also have a nice complement of aunts and uncles.

We stayed with my cousin Angie, who is nine days older than I am and has been my best cousin since we were infants. We visited aunts and uncles and had dinner with cousins and it was a weekend full of hanging out with people I have known for my entire life.

He has nobody. He has a couple of cousins, but Sly and Doris never made extended family a priority. He has seen his cousins twice in the past 25 years.

He had been dreading the birthdays - "I know Ted will text me," he had said, but I hadn't realized how much he was dreading them, although I sure understand not wanting to talk to Ted.

"My parents left me a huge mess to deal with! My ex-wife left me crap* to deal with! I have been stuck with all this shit and it's not fair!"

Which it isn't.

So yeah - he had been thinking about his family and how they're all gone and then he had to deal with Ted, who may or may not be nice - it depends on the moment. And he blew up and it pissed me off because it is not my fault that his family was so darn dysfunctional.

After he got it all off his chest, he apologized. "At least I didn't throw any cheese," he said.

I explained that perhaps, in the future, we should be together looking out and fighting our common enemy (Ted) as opposed to fighting each other. "It's OK to be angry," I said. "It's OK to yell and be mad. But it's not OK to say you're angry at me when that's not what you're really mad about."

So we have some work to do. But we don't throw cheese anymore, so there's that.




* If you get divorced in California and you have a timeshare that goes to your ex-spouse, make sure you transfer the title to your ex because according to CA law, a divorce decree is not enough. And if you are the ex getting the timeshare and you don't remove the other ex's name from the deed, when you die, your ex will be stuck with the timeshare and have to go through an incredible hassle to give it to your daughters/his stepdaughters. I AM LOOKING AT YOU, WORLDMARK! YOU ARE EVIL.

TLDR Don't buy a timeshare. Just don't do it. And don't buy it from Worldmark. Seriously horrible customer service.

In which Primo asks if I will make the amazing Memphis Junior League Onion Dip for the house party and I say, Yeah, I love you, but no

Primo: Would you make your onion dip for the house party?

Me: No! You promised I wouldn't have to do anything for that event. You said I should just plan something out of the house that night!

Primo: I would help! I could cut things!

Me: I get the frozen chopped onions.

Primo: OK! I can do that! If I get everything, will you prepare it?

Me: Nope. But I will show you the recipe and stand next to you while you make it.

Primo: But I want you to make it!

Me: What if I die before you do? Won't you want to know how to make it?

Primo: I'll be like every other person whose spouse dies and who doesn't know how to cook. I would just regress to cooking what I already know how to cook.

Me: So you would never want the onion dip again?

Primo: I guess I would have to figure it out. But for now, it's a lot easier to ask you.

In which I wonder if I am evil or just practical

Turns out Primo is hosting a house party (i.e., a political ask for money thing that happens at the home of someone who is not the candidate) the day after I have a mammogram.

I will be taking mammogram day (Wednesday) as a sick day because my company just converted our personal days to sick days.

As in, instead of getting five days a year for whatever, I now have to be sick to take those days.

My friends, I am a very lucky person who does not get sick.

They can write on my tombstone, "She never let a vacation day go unused."

I am ticked off about this.

1. I don't get sick.
2. 25% of my vacation time just disappeared
3. I am not paid by the hour. If you want to treat me like an hourly employee with sick time, then pay me OT for the days that start at 5:30 a.m., when I am at the ferry terminal to go across the lake to corporate, and end at 10 p.m. when I finally arrive at the hotel
4. I either have to let time off go unused or turn into a liar

What did corporate think would happen? That everyone would say, "Oh! Now that the policy has changed and I am not sick, I guess I will let those days go unused!"

Anyhow. I am taking Wednesday as a sick day for my one-hour mammogram. In the old days, I would have just worked from home that day and run out for the hour.

Primo is having the house party on Thursday. Months ago, when he asked if I minded, he promised I would have to do nothing to prepare and would not have to attend if I didn't want to.

But I know - because this is human nature - that if I am at home the day before the event that I will have to observe the preparations, or, worse, get sucked into the drama.

I am going to change my appointment and go to work on Wednesday instead. Does that make me a bad wife? :)

In which I wonder what to write from now on, as Sly and Doris are dead (although the estate still is not settled and continues to present challenges) and as Ted has quieted down some, which makes us nervously happy but also scared because when will the next shoe drop?

So yeah.

There's the draft of the book I wrote, where I fictionalized events because really, nobody wants to read a story where there is not some kind of either redemption (happy!) or comeuppance (even happier for the people watching for the comeuppance). (Think "House of Cards" - I hate every character on the show, but I watch because I want to see them get what's coming to them.)

I sent query letters to agents but either I stink at writing query letters or my first pages were not compelling.

But you know what? I don't think I am a novelist. I am not a plot person. My friend Jeff Abbott is brilliant at plotting. AND he gets to incorporate what he studied in college! He was an English and history major and one of his books has all this stuff about Russia and the Cold War. He mentioned one of his history professors in the acknowledgments, which was really cool.

I am not about plot. I can't make plot up. I don't think I am good at sustained narrative where you start with The Protagonist Wanting Something She Can't Get (i.e., a good relationship with Sly and Doris) and then Overcoming Obstacles and Going Underground For Three Days to Overcome Her Tragic Flaws only to Emerge Triumphant.

I think I am better at short scenes and that's what I like and I just have to figure out how to get that kind of thing published. (Published somewhere besides here, I mean.)

The other thing is that Primo is running for office again. He has a chance to win this time, which would be cool.

I am not interested in being part of the political world myself, but I will gladly grab the popcorn and listen to all his stories about the politics of politics. (It's SO DIRTY, Y'ALL. SO DIRTY. BUT SO FASCINATING.)

So maybe I'll write about that. On verra.

Ch 12 Primo gives me the best wedding present ever and nope, it’s not a trip to Paris or a diamond bracelet or anything else you might think of

Primo helps Sly and Doris to bed. My mom, who is not drunk, is able to get to bed by herself. Primo and I use the guest bath to brush our teeth. I do not want to use our bathroom – the bathroom Sly and Doris have been using – until I can give it a good cleaning with bleach.

Is that irrational? I don’t think so.

Not to be too explicit, but it appears that Sly does not adopt the practice of sitting on the toilet when he is at someone else’s house. Older men, older men plumbing problems, older men dripping in places. Ick. I don’t want his cooties.

We pull out the sofa bed. Put the sheet of plywood under the thin mattress so there will be some back support. Smooth the old cotton sheets Primo has been using for years. The throw pillows are still in the window where we put them last night before so the sun wouldn’t wake us at the crack of dawn, but we discovered this morning that the sun is not the problem. Noisy Sly and Doris are the problem.

We collapse.

Primo: That was fun.

Me: I know.

Primo: Except for my mom and dad getting drunk.

Me: Getting drunk and then driving your car to the restaurant! Yeah, that was super smart. We should have seen that coming.

Primo: I know. I was so distracted by – you know – OUR WEDDING – that I wasn’t thinking.

Me: Me neither.

Primo: The sad thing is, I know my dad does that kind of thing all the time. I know he doesn’t forego his 4:00 drink when they go out to eat. I think he has gotten good at driving drunk.

Me: They are so lucky they have never hurt anyone.

Primo: Yeah, I know. I have been making sure I do the driving when I am with them for years.

Me: It would have been nice if they had stayed sober or at least not acted drunk for our wedding dinner.

Primo: You mean, “It would have been nice if they had thought about someone else instead of themselves?”

Me: Yeah! That!

Primo: That’s how they roll.

Me: Your mom was all weepy about you when you were a baby and wanted out of your crib. She tells me that story every time she sees me.

Primo: Any time she drinks, she gets like that.

Me: Which is – always.

Primo: Unfortunately, yes. She is not a happy person.

Me: But this was different. She gave me her mother’s wedding ring.

Primo: What?

Me: I was shocked, too. The ring is a huge deal with her.

Primo: It is?

Me: Don’t you remember the first time I met your parents how she told me about it and she was all sad because she had wanted to give the ring to Nancy?

Primo: Oh yeah. I had forgotten about my grandmother’s rings. I don’t get sentimental about things like that.

Me: Your mom does.

Primo: She is attached to things.

Me: I get annoyed with her – she seemed to be all in on the boycott the wedding movement, but I also feel sorry for her, being stuck with your dad. That fight they had the last time we were there?

Primo: What are you talking about?

Me: When he was screaming at her! And she was crying!

Primo: I don’t remember.

Me: How can you not remember?

Primo: Because that kind of thing happens all the time with them. It’s their normal.

Me: That is really sad.

Primo: My dad is a jerk.

Me: You can say that again.

Primo: How about that toast?

Me: Lovely! I like the way he insulted his first wife. And the way he talked you up, you, the perfect child, in comparison to your brothers. Even though we know he is also probably very disappointed in you, too.

Primo: Man.

Me: What? You don’t like being the Perfect Child? Aren’t you proud?

Primo: I don’t want the burden of being responsible for them. I don’t want to be the only one they want. My life would be a lot easier if Ted and Jack helped out. Only my mom and dad don’t want them, they want me.

Me: Who cares what they want? Why do their wishes get to trump yours?

Primo: All they do is complain. They are horrible houseguests. You made things so nice – we gave them our bedroom! – and they still complain! They can’t even say one nice thing to you.

Me: Nope. Because I am the evil gold digger.

Primo: Although really, it’s my dad. My mom just goes along with him.

Me: Yes – she is a different person when she is not around him. I could not believe how she – she – sparkled! – when she and I went to the gardens.

Primo: My dad is a jerk. He is the one doing the main complaining. You didn’t offer oatmeal.

Me: What?

Primo: Didn’t I tell you? I thought I had.

Me: What are you talking about? You told me about the cabbage and the napkins and of course we know I am a Bad Bacon Eater, but oatmeal? There is something about oatmeal now?

Primo: My dad is annoyed that you did not offer him oatmeal.

Me: But I did! I showed him and your mom where everything was so they could make breakfast for themselves and not have to wait for us.

Primo: No. He was upset that you made oatmeal and did not offer any to him.

Me: When?

Primo: I think he first complained about this on Monday.

Me: Oh! Yes, I made oatmeal on Monday, but when I got to the kitchen, your dad was already eating cornflakes.

Primo: He was?

Me: Yes! He was almost done with his cereal when I started making oatmeal. I guess I could have asked if he wanted an oatmeal chaser to his cornflakes, but it didn’t occur to me that someone who had just finished a bowl of cold cereal would also want a bowl of hot cereal.

Primo: He has been complaining about that.

Me: Why didn’t he just ask me to make some for him?

Primo: Because he would rather have a reason not to like you.

Me: Of course. They’re not going to be visiting often, are they?

Primo: I doubt they will visit ever again. I have no intentions of ever inviting them again.

Me: Then that’s fine with me.

Primo: And you don’t need to go with me when I visit them. This boycott threat? That was ridiculous. I need to visit them because they are my parents and I feel sorry for my mom, but I don’t think you need to put any more effort into the relationship.

Me: Good. Because I am done with them.

Primo: They have been so awful. I feel so bad for my mom, but even though I feel bad for her, just a few days of them in our house has been horrible. They will never live with us. Ever.

Me: Is that your wedding present to me?

Primo: Yes, I suppose so!

Me: That? Is the best wedding present you could have given me.

THE END

Ch 12 Doris is all weepy at my wedding dinner and it kind of ticks me off but then I really listen to her and it makes me sad for her and then she makes a Grand Gesture and it makes me so sad because her daughter is dead and she is married to a jerk and there is nothing she can do

Doris waves me over. Good grief. Now what?

Her cheeks are wet. Why is she sad? This is a wedding, a celebration.

I know! I know! I am joking! She is sad that Primo married me. Or she is sad that she is married to Sly. Or both.

She is drunk. She is weeping.

Doris: The most blissful time of my life was when Primo was a toddler. I would put him in his playpen while I ironed and did other housework. At only nine months old, he started talking. He was so bright. “Out!” he would say. “Out!” Then he would raise his little arms so I could lift him. I treasured those days.

Me: Yes, you’ve told me that story before.

           

Doris: He is my Only Joy!

Me: Uh huh.

Don’t you just want to slap me and tell me not to be such a bitch? Writing this, I feel really bad. I am not being kind. It costs me nothing to be nice to an old lady. And man, do I get hoist on my petard here. You’ll see.

Doris: No, you don’t understand. He really is the only happiness I have in life. He is the only person in my life who brings me joy.

Oh. Oh. I get it. I would be bitterly unhappy if I lived with Sly. I guess I would drink, too, as much as I could. I still remember what Primo’s brother said about Sly: He turns wives into alcoholics.

Doris: You love Primo. You’ll be good to him.

Me: OK, Doris. OK. I know.

She weeps.

Crap. What do I say? I just don’t want to deal with her weepy, drunk emotions. I don’t inflict my emotions on other people. I don’t want to take theirs.

Doris: Sit down.

Me: Ummm.

I look around for rescue.

Doris: Please.

I don’t want to talk to her, but I feel sorry for her.

Doris: I want to give you something.

Is she going to give me Wedding Night Advice? Great. That would be fabulous.

She pulls out a small box out of her purse and hands it to me.

Doris: Open it.

It contains a ring with a thin, worn band and a tiny diamond. The band has been cut.

Doris: That is my dear, dear mother’s wedding ring. They had to cut it off her finger when she died. I want you to have it.

My jaw drops. She has told me about her mother’s ring and how precious it was to her. She had wanted to give it to Nancy. She cried when she told me about it. I don’t even know what to say to you guys, except see what I mean about being hoist on my petard?

I really don’t know what to say to her.

Me: Thank you, Doris. I don’t know what to say. I know how special this ring is to you and I know how much Primo loved his grandmother. I will treasure it. Thank you.

A hug seems like the right thing to do but it also feels incredibly awkward. I pat her hand. That seems like a good compromise. 

Ch 12 Sly makes a toast but can’t even bring himself to say my name

Sly stands. “I want to offer a toast to our son, Primo, who is our only joy. He is intelligent and accomplished.[1] He is the only thing in our life we are proud of.” (Blah blah blah more stupid boring stuff here that is just blather.) “My first marriage was not a success. I hope Primo is as happy in his second marriage as I am in mine.”

Notes:

·         Not once does Sly say my name

·         Not once does Sly refer to “Primo’s wife”

·         Not once does he say the word “Welcome”

·         He does say the word “happy” once, but it is almost a curse – he and Doris are miserable, as far as I can tell

A silence falls over the two tables. Sly and Doris have no friends. Their chief joy is trash talking other people, including their own family, and waiting for 4:00 so they can start drinking. What’s the point of waiting until 4:00 anyhow? If you’re a drunk, you’re a drunk. Own it. If you want to drink, drink. Waiting for an arbitrary deadline does not make you less of a drunk.

Sure. Thanks, Sly. This is the happiness I want for sure.

---

[1] Sly doesn’t really believe that. He thinks Primo should have gotten a PhD.

Ch 12 My brother and my sister each make a toast welcoming Primo to the family

My brother stands. “I would like to make a toast,” he says. “We are very happy to have Primo in our family. My sister is a special person and she waited a long time to find the right man. We had given up. But as soon as I met Primo, I knew her wait – and ours – had been worth it. Here’s to Goldie and Primo.”

Jenny stands. “I also want to welcome Primo to our family. He is a great guy. I can tell he loves my sister and that she loves him. We are very lucky that our family has grown to include Primo. I couldn’t ask for a better brother in law.” 

Ch 12 Primo and I make sure we will not be sitting by Sly and Doris at the restaurant

Primo and I arrive first at the restaurant. Bayou, one of our favorites, serves excellent New Orleans style food.

I worked with the chef to create a menu that would make everyone – the lactose intolerant, the lactose fakers, the hemochromatosis, and the whatevers – happy.

The booze issue. Lord have mercy, Sly and Doris could put us in the poorhouse with their alcohol bill. We have to manage this.

“We have some guests who – like to drink,” I explained to the owner. “How do we do it so everyone knows that they only get one drink on us? We are bringing the wine, but I can see my in-laws running up a bar tab higher than the dinner costs. Not to mention I don’t need them to get smashed.”

He laughed. “I promise your situation is not unique. We’ll handle it. Our waiters know what to say.”

Two tables at the back of the restaurant are set beautifully, with a small menu at each plate. At the top of the menu, it says, “Primo and Goldie Rehearsal Dinner,” which is wrong.

Should I be a bridezilla? Throw a fit?

Nope. Not a big deal. Who cares? We are married and that is all that matters. Perhaps they aren’t used to Friday afternoon weddings.

Me: Where is everyone going to sit?

Primo: My mom and dad will be upset if they can’t sit with me. But this is our wedding. They have had me mostly to themselves since Saturday. Let’s sit with your brother and sister.

Me: Let’s hope they get here before your mom and dad do.

Primo: I hope they get here soon.

Me: I don’t!

Primo: No. I mean – I didn’t even think about it before I gave them the car keys, but they went back to the house to drink.

Me: Oh crap. Really? Your dad is going to be driving drunk?

Primo: I don’t think so. When I am with them and we go out for dinner, he doesn’t drink as much as he usually does. I think this was more for my mom.

Me: You mean he was trying to be nice to your mom? That’s a switch.

Primo: I know.

My mom, Dr. J, Greg, and Jenny arrive.

Me: Mom, would you do me a huge favor? This would count as your wedding present to me.

Not really. She already sent me a Kitchen Air mixer and I have no intentions of returning it. This is wedding present number two.

Mom: Sure. What do you want?

Me: Would you sit at the table with Sly and Doris so I don’t have to?

She raises her eyebrows. I have not told her anything about the bad blood between Primo’s parents and me. I am not a Reliable Narrator. I didn’t wanted to poison her against them before she met them. Maybe I am wrong and Sly and Doris are right. Maybe they were right to tell Primo not to marry and to threaten to boycott our wedding. Maybe I am a golddigger.

Maybe my mom will see them in a different way. Maybe I am the problem, not Sly and Doris. Maybe they are really lovely people who are easy to get along with and I’m the one who has no friends or relationships that I have sustained across decades, oceans, and languages.

Hahahahaha! I just had to say that.

No.

I just hadn’t wanted to burden her with the knowledge that she was going to have to spend several days in the same house with people who think she and I are stupid because of our political and religious beliefs.

“OK,” she says. “Sure.” She takes Dr. J’s hand and moves to the other table.

I grab my brother and sister. "Sit here," I say. "We've hardly had a chance to see you!" There. Now I am surrounded by people I like. I am throwing my mom, Dr. J, and Pastor Gail to the wolves of Sly and Doris, but they are taking one for the team.

Besides, let Sly and Doris prove me wrong about worrying about how they would behave in public. They were insulted at the insinuation that they would be rude to Pastor Gail? Show me I was wrong. I’d be happy to be wrong.

Not to be all bridezilla-y, but it is my wedding, in theory and probably in reality because I am one and done, the only wedding I will ever have. If you can’t sit with the people you want at your own wedding, when can you?

Once everyone has arrived, the waiter offers everyone a drink. He says something like, “The hosts are offering one complimentary cocktail before dinner.” He makes it sound good but he also makes it clear that if anyone wants more than one, they can get out their own wallets.

Sly and Doris order only the one drink each, which seems like not a lot for them, but during dinner, there is a lot of wine being consumed at the other table and it sure isn’t by my mom, Dr. J, or Pastor Gail.

Ch 12 We take pictures by the lake but Sly and Doris want no part of it and it doesn’t hit me until now that of course they would not want to be with us – it is almost 4:00 p.m.

After the church photos and chatting are done, we depart for the lake to take more photos. It’s a prettier backdrops than the inside of Primo's plain little cinderblock (but with a heart) church.

Sly and Doris decide to go back to the house. They don’t want to go for photos.

“But we packed a cooler with cheese and sausage and beer,” I say. “We’re going to take pictures and have snacks. Our dinner reservation is for 6:00. There’s not really enough time to go back to the house and then come all this way out again to the restaurant. You’ll get to the house and pretty much have to turn around and come back.”

“We’re tired,” they insist. “We’d rather not go.”

Fine. I don’t care. They don’t have to go. They're grownups. They can choose what they want to do and don’t want to do.

We recalculate the car formula. Primo gives Sly his keys and he and Doris leave. The rest of us go to the lake and take more photos and have a lovely Sly- and Doris-free time.

Ch 12 And we get married and live happily ever after, right?

Pastor Gail and Father Joe share the pulpit at Primo’s little cinderblock Lutheran church, with Pastor Gail performing the ceremony and Father Joe giving a short sermon, which is my favorite kind. Primo and I stand in front of the altar for the entire ceremony, which meant that I feel every inch of my very cute but very high-heeled black patent peep toe pumps.

When Father Joe says, “member of the body of Christ,” Primo and I look away from each other, biting our lips to keep from laughing.

“He said ‘member!’” I mouth at Primo when I look at him again.[1]

My brother caught my eye. “Mawwiage!” he mouths.

Fifteen minutes later, we are married. My mom takes photos. My sister takes photos. My brother takes photos.

Sly and Doris, who have a camera, sat in the pews. They do not take photos. They don’t even ask to be in the photos anyone else is taking and I sure don’t suggest it because I am not interested in photos of Sly and Doris.

My mom, Dr. J, and Pastor Gail talk about Norwegian immigrant life on the prairie, family history research, and Lutherans, of which my mom's father was one. Primo talks to Father Joe. Greg and Jenny talk to me.

Sly and Doris sit in the pews and don’t talk to anyone.

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[1] Yes, he is 12.

Ch 12 I show Primo my new and improved self and he proposes for real, although still not with a ring, which is good because I do not like wearing rings and an engagement ring for me would be a big fat waste of money

Primo: Wow!

Me: Don’t get used to it. There is no way I could re-create this look ever. I don’t have the skills or the patience.

Primo: You look good to me.

Me: Good enough to marry?

Primo: Maybe.

Me: Does that mean you’re going to propose?

Primo: I thought we had already agreed to get married. We did buy real estate together. We are somewhat committed.

Me: Yeah, but you never proposed properly. Propose already.

Primo: OK. Will you marry me?

Me: Do you have a ring?

Primo: No, but I have something better.

Me: What could be better than a ring? You already got me the Good Trash Can.

Primo: And I even paid full price because it never went on sale.

Me: What more could a woman want?

Primo: What about these?

He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a little box.

Primo: Open it.

Earrings. I lift one out of the box. A long silver strand is embedded with three tiny diamonds spaced along its length.

Me: They’re gorgeous!

Primo: Look at the other one.

The second earring is longer than the first one and contains four tiny diamonds.

Me: What are these?

Primo: I had them made from the diamonds from my first wedding ring.  You didn’t want an engagement ring and you don’t want a fancy wedding ring, but I wanted you to have something nice.

They were beautiful and environmentally responsible – a recycled wedding ring!

Me: Thank you. I love them.

Primo: You haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?

Me: Oh! Well of course. I have to. I’ve already bought real estate with you.