Monday, October 30, 2006

Photos from MammaDog's wedding ceremony here. More soon.

It was a Glorious Night!!

This greeted our guests on their way into the banquet. Candy and caramel apples, mostly made by our bride and sister. The number after the name indicates the table. This permitted her to strew her friends tables among the various families. Very few people sat the entire night.

The Bakers were in from Massachusetts! That meant dancing from dusk til closing.

The geeks and the smokers formed their own little havens outside in the breeze. That meant breaks away from the noise and promises to play Final Fantasy with other like-minded individuals.

Conga line snaked its way through the tables, and the Music was provided by parents of friends of the bride and groom. We also did some strange little dance where everyone switched jackets and shoes and partners. A very good time for all.

Ziggy, if you're reading this, we will have to play sometime. I'm looking forward to learning WarCraft!

As expected, most people left around eight or nine, while the youngsters partied to midnight. All the wine and beer was consumed, if you're wondering. We are, after all, New York Upstaters and Northern Tier Pennsylvanians.

Little Pond

Sunday, October 29, 2006

MammaDog and PappaDog's first kiss as a married couple. Little Pond is quiet this morning. We have over 100 raw photos to process and are expecting hundreds more from the party-goers.

Friday, October 27, 2006

Wedding Weekend 2006/Minor Crisis

MammaDog as a bride for Halloween, 1986.

Please help me by saying a prayer for all our travelers. We have been attached before to weddings that were accompanied by tragedy on the highway. One of the reasons we are restricting alcohol at the banquet. Those who remain to party are staying at the Fontainebleau Inn.

Check also the MS Companion.

A Minor Crisis:

BabySister and her hubby each thought the other brought the heart medicine for their lhasa apso, Teddy. Now it must be Fedexed from Massachusetts and won't arrive before Saturday Morning. They could take him to a local vet, but as an emergency visit, it would cost $100.00, and go uphill from there.

Teddy has a heart murmur. Any herbal remedies or ideas? We are currently just keeping him calm and happy, but that will change Saturday, when we all leave for the wedding.

Any input would be appreciated.

Little Pond

Monday, October 23, 2006

It Goes Whooosh!

That's the sound of money during the last week before a wedding.

We paid a costly visit to the caterer, Sweet N Saucy. But the ladies are pros and did what I could not. They calmed my daughter down enough for her to eat. She's been unable to eat since yesterday's lunch. We fed her a "Dolly Parton" salad. (With two great big chicken breasts-HeeHee!) And I had a lovely cream of spinach soup. The ladies will handle some minor floral arrangements for the cake (we do floral, not figurines) and lighting for the tables. These were all impromptu arrangements that will be included in the bill. But out of our hair.

Looks like I will need to attend some sort of rehearsal and dinner. Since we are paying for them, may as well, but I hate the extra travel. We are carrying the burden usually carried by the groom's family, but they are simply not offering. We will be lucky if they don't carry on their feud during the kid's big day. Frankly, if they do start anything at all, I will pummel them with my walking stick. Literally, I will throw them out of the church or reception. And if anyone tries to interfere, I will beat them senseless, too. A la Friar Tuck. People will talk about it for years.

Just a little pumped up on adrenaline, is all.

We are all getting touchy this week.

Little Pond

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

The article was called “Cover Story.”

It was about non-Muslim head-covering for religious reasons. The Twin Tiers is Mennonite country, and we see it all the time. Generally, both men and women cover their heads.

I can remember the early days after the Vatican Councils. We had a die-hard pastor who couldn't let go. He sermonized on the "fine, old tradition of women covering their heads." He had tears in his eyes, begging us.

Was he mourning the loss of formal Sunday clothes? If so, he was right; it probably was the first death knell of the Sunday parade of fashion.

Was he mourning the loss of women's secondary status? He seemed the epitome of the Pauline cleric, so I would guess this was his grief. We resented it. He would stop a bare-headed lady on her way out after service, and publicly chastise her.

So this trend toward ladies once again covering their heads makes my lip curl.

There are ladies who come to services with what is obviously a chapel veil. If they are being old-fashioned for the sake of being old-fashioned, I don’t get it. Was it a wonderful thing to be subservient?

Some are probably using their veils as a sort of habit. That I can understand. It falls in the same category as the Mennonite, Amish, and any religion that insists both sexes cover their heads.

But: Roman Catholics were given to understand that women no longer wear head coverings because we are all children--and heirs--of our God. For a person to decide to cover his or her head on religious grounds is fine with me, as long as it is an outward sign of something other than sex-based subservience.

I personally wear hats year-round, and could easily expand my wardrobe to include fancy hats for church. But like men, I tend to remove them inside. The showier ones would obstruct the view of the people behind me. It would not surprise me to learn that (going back in time) that’s the reason men are required to remove them, also.

But ladies didn’t. And that’s the point. Ladies were required to cover their heads in church. After all, we ate the apple that caused all the trouble, and somebody had to pay for that. How convenient that the stronger sex decided to impose it on the weaker! Interesting that the weaker sex is beginning to wear the imposed symbol again.

What could have caused these ladies to take a giant step backwards into the dark ages?

Little Pond

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Got Heels?

When I blogged my shopping trip last month, I deliberately avoided mentioning the shoes and purse. Why open that can of worms?

Here's why: Got Myelin's foray into the world of shoe-shopping is very similar to my earlier trip in the late spring. Back then, I came home with two pairs of high heels. (Two inches high!) And this time around I purchased a pair of metallic-champagne Nine West two inchers.

How? How do I tromp around on high heels, do you ask? Okay, medium high heels.

Well, I don't, not really. Not much anyway. Not without support, ever. That's a lot of nots.

When I am dressed to the nines, I am usually with Husband RJ, or with my daughters. When there's trouble, and I would be lying to pretend there never is, I can holler for help. By the way, I am not shy about grabbing handrails and other woodwork, either.

Same as everyone else, including people without MS. I also dress for church in heels. After all, my outfits look better with the proper heels. But in church there are pews. At the end of the pews are raised knobs. Just the right height for grabbing, and I did not learn this from experience. I learned by watching how the seniors navigate.

Do I look like a senior? Okay, no spring chickie, but not much older than my age. Nothing wrong with looking my age. How old, you ask? None of your darned business, Sonny or Missy. It's not polite to ask. Let's just say I earned those gray hairs.

So, take that, Got Myelin? ! Buy the darned things and curtail your activity. Or not.

And by the way, there are Capezios that make a great shoe for dancing, and they come in all heights, designed to be orthopedically sound. Something to purchase just once and keep forever at hand for dancing. And really great deals on mark-downs. Dancers are notorious for wrecking their feet, and wear very comfortable shoes whenever they can, switching to the painful ones only when necessary.

Seriously, professional dancers taught me to buy the most comfortable I can find, not be afraid to trim wherever they hurt, and keep them forever at hand. (And find a leatherworker who dyes shoes!) I keep shoes handy that don't hurt, even when I'm dressed to the Nine Wests. You should envisions them in metallic champagne color.

And Macy's is where I got them. Bring your husband and make him help you get around. Most guys are happy to see their ladies in heels.

And happy to navigate for them while arm-in-arm.

Because I've been busy with the wedding, I put this in Little Pond. But a more technical follow-up is to be found at the MS Companion.

Little Pond

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Mideast Politics, Men and Women

It is gratifying to see verification (Courtesy of my Everloving Blogmother, Sissy) of the success of our efforts to fight terrorism by going to battle in the Mideast.

Not only do we owe it to our allies in Israel, but we are securing a portion of our own relative peace by fighting the terrorists in their homelands. If we were not fighting them there, we would need to fight them all the more, here in the US.

And the fact that they shake their fists and scream how the hate us? So what else is new? Mideastern hyperbole has been a daily diet on the news since the early 1980's. Look closely at the next thunderous "Kill the American Satan!", fist-shaking, flag-burning broadcast. Notice anything about the sex of the participants?

Lock several dozen Israeli, Muslim, and American women in room together, and within two days they would be serving one another meals and exchanging recipes. Their male religious leaders collect men together for those demonstrations. They tell them what to holler and give them the props for their little show. And the MSM dutifully record the whole thing and want us to believe it is spontaneous. Talk about dhimmitude? Spell it "American Networks."

Mideastern women are too busy keeping the family alive, clothed and fed to waste time with silly public performance-art directed by men who won't allow them even to enter their own house of worship on "those" days of the month.

Little Pond