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 Holly Winter Living The Life Of Holly Apr. 11, 2003 I know. My brother finally got married last year. His marriage had been in a constant state of planning for a very long time. His fiancé would call with the dates. “Mark you calendar for the first Saturday in September.” She would say, breathlessly.” “You sure this time?” We would ask, pencil in hand. “He swears. This time he won’t change his mind.” But he would change his mind, yet again. And his poor fiancé would call the DJs and rearrange the flowers and we would all wait for the new date. Well. Everything changed when he got called for active duty last year. Now there was no time to plan a wedding of any kind. So. One day he told her he was taking her out to lunch. Um. No. Rather she was whisked to a good friend who was a judge. My parents were there, her mom was there via a cell phone call to another state. I understand that there was a lot of giggling through out the ceremony. She couldn’t have been happier to have finally taken his last name. She had one condition: She still wanted to have the big reception. And. Since he was about to go far away, he agreed. Well. Let’s just say that the party date had trouble sticking too. So. The bride got tired and decided to take matters into her own hands. Hey. If he could surprise her with a surprise wedding, well. She could surprise him with a surprise reception. Um. Never underestimate this woman. I spent the day before the surprise reception helping to set up the hall. I know. If I had been smart I might have flown in a day later. No easy feat setting up. Someone had decided that it would be decorative to hang lights and decorations from the ceiling. Yeah. I know. So. We stood on ladders with our arms over our heads for hours. No. Sorry. It wasn’t some womanly bonding experience. We measured out yards and yards of material. We nearly electrocuted ourselves with leftover Christmas lights that sometimes lit up, and sometimes didn’t. We set tables. We filled candle holders. We counted out Jordon Almonds into the little boxes that would decorate the tables. The bride cried. You know how it is. For her to realize that for the rest of her life she is going to be hanging from the ceiling to make my brother’s life better, and then he gets to waltz in when the work is finished and be the host of the party. I know. It is kind of unfair. As the day wore on and little things fell apart, the poor bride, who was hoping for the simplicity of perfection, got tenser and tenser. “Holly. Are these lights hanging even?” “I guess.” I said, before I saw the glare in her eyes. “Yes. Yes they are perfect. That is the best hang I have ever seen on any light that I have ever seen anywhere, on any light on earth. Everyone will love it. Really. That hang is just right.” I found that eating the leftover Jordon Almonds before I gave any and all advice on the hanging of the lights helped tremendously. Not only was I rewarded by the sweetness and the crunchiness of the almonds, I was able to answer positively any question that was asked. “Holly, do you think that your brother will like this surprise, or will he be mad?” I quickly ate an almond. “Yes. Most definitely. He will LOVE this surprise!” Hours splashed into hours and we were still setting up. The bride’s best friend started digging into my almonds. “You are right.” She whispered to me. “They do help.” She rushed off to reset the children’s table with more plates. She had a bit of a smile on her face. Though the work had turned sour, the sweetness of the candy shone through. A bitter competition broke out between the friend and I. Who could eat the most almonds? I found that by agreeing to set the silverware, I could walk back and forth to the kitchen more often, thereby replenishing my handful of almonds. The friend watched. She was not an easy looser. She offered to tie up the corners of the tablecloths. Only she kept the ties next to the almonds, so she could reward herself before and after each and every tie. I thought that that was close to cheating, so I moved the ties into the bathroom because I noticed that she hadn’t gone in a while and I worried about her bladder. I would hate for her to have any medical problems because she was too focused on eating almonds. Oh. That friend. She had the audacity to challenge me to an almond collection race. She figured that she could collect more unwanted almonds than I could by the end of the surprise wedding reception the next evening. I know. I laughed in her face. I mean. Come on. She is just the bride’s friend. I, being the groom’s sister, will know practically everyone who would be there. I accepted her challenge and warned her that I would be sure to tell the world about her losing. Oh. I guess I forgot to tell her that I was a column writer. Darn it. Jordon Almond: Part 2 tomorrow. About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com ------------ Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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