When Tribes Combine

Well, we are home.

I am the lame and the halt but I am home. It would appear that dancing like nobody is watching is good as a philosophy but not so good if you have a tendon problem that has almost but not entirely healed up. Usually it's my knee I wreck when I dance these days I guess my knee must be healthier than my foot because I am back limping and in pain again but what can you do? Dancing must be done at weddings and especially if martinis are involved and a good band (I was told that the lady-singer was one of Jimi Hendrix's back-up singers and I believe it) and your daughter and husband both dance and well, okay, that's that story. Also I slammed two of my fingers in the car door when we got home although they seem fine, just a little weird looking.
Here's a picture which Jessie will hate of us dancing with the groom who is just about the cutest fellow in the western hemisphere:

You can see that by this time my hair was DOWN. All those pins in it were sticking my head. What you can't see is that by that time my shoes were off.
Hair down, shoes off. Hmmmm....

This was definitely the most, uh, well, how do I put this? Overwhelming wedding reception I've ever attended. God it was beautiful. It was a bit rainy so there were huge giant tents and the first tent was the BAR TENT and it had clear plastic and was about the size of a cathedral. Here's a picture of Mr. Moon and me in it front of some of the drape decorations which had to have been made from silk. You could of made fifty gorgeous wedding dresses from those things.

I kept sidling up to them and just feeling them.
You can see that my hair was still UP at that point. My shoes were still on too.

There was so much food. And wait staff everywhere. And bars in every tent. And the porta potties were far more luxurious than most bathrooms. There were flowers and sinks and rugs in those things. I took pictures with my phone but you will be spared those today.

But you know, when it all comes down to it, it's all about family. So here's some family pictures:


Mr. Moon and his sister, the mother of the groom. She not only looks like Lily, she acts just like her too. Very methodical, calm, and serene about everything. I am in awe of her. Her husband died a few years ago and she is carrying on with a strength and acceptance I would never be able to manage. Ever.

Here's a beautiful picture of her and Jessie. Aren't they beautiful?


And this one, my favorite, of her and her son, the groom, dancing.



Yes, they're crying. Grant cries at the drop of the hat. He couldn't even give his little speech at the rehearsal dinner. He tried twice, but neither time was he able to pull it off. When he had to give the toast at his brother's wedding a few years ago, he cried so hard I thought he was going to simply melt and fall over. And he's like six-foot-eight. I mean, how cute is THAT? Pretty darn cute. And precious.

And the bride? Well, let's just say that I can't even THINK the word "cocksucker" in her presence. Could you? I feel sort of guilty just typing it out. She is so sweet and she works with the families of dying children in a hospital. Please. So no, I said nothing at all inappropriate around her. I'm pretty sure.


It was a late night. I hear the bride and groom got one hour of sleep this morning before having to be at the airport to head off for their honeymoon. It's going to take them the entire six days to get over the wedding, I feel fairly certain. I sure do wish them the best. They're so beautiful.

We got up early this morning to visit with Brenda as she was packing up and then Payton and her mommy and daddy came in and Jessie gave Payton her bottle and Payton gave us her smiles. Here's a picture of Payton, her daddy, and her great-uncle Mr. Moon. Mr. Moon is upset because he looks so much shorter than the daddy and I'm sure he would like you to know that he is not wearing shoes, while Greg is. Also, he is in his pajama bottoms and he's probably going to hate me for not cropping those out.
Too bad.

Plus, May made Mr. Moon those pants. And he loves them.

Here's one last picture of some of the beautiful family I married into:

Beautiful AND tall. My goodness. I am such a midget around them. I sort of get lost beneath them, like a scrub palmetto in a pine forest. But they are kind to me and let me hang there, beneath their mighty height and they cast me smiles and do not not forget to invite me to gatherings and they seem to appreciate how I take care of Mr. Moon and have created two very tall daughters who are obviously of their tribe.

And they are a grand and loving family and this girl who has just married into it, this obviously beloved daughter of an obviously well-off southern family, doesn't know it but that is probably the best stroke of luck of her life- becoming one of them too.

I know it was for me.

And here I am, home in Lloyd where it's November 22nd and it's seventy-something degrees and Mr. Moon is already out in the woods, hoping for a deer because he wants to put meat in the freezer and I'm going to make some venison spaghetti tonight and we're home. We survived. I never did feel as if I belonged in that setting of the society of Dothan but I did feel at home when we were watching Payton and when we were hanging out with the relatives.

I'm tired, but I feel far better than I probably should, having just yes, survived those social events. My foot may be painful but it's that way because I danced and there are worse ways to injure a foot. There are also worse ways to spend a weekend than in Dothan, Alabama with people whom you may feel shy around, but who are kind to you even if you are small, dance with too much abandon, talk about chickens and her grandchild endlessly, drink too many martinis and wear the wrong shoes.

When you actually have them on.

Bless their hearts. I love them so.