Earlier this year, I agreed to host my youngest son's wedding at my house. I thought it would be a simple affair, maybe 100 people, lots of fun. My own imperfect knots have been tied in Las Vegas, which I thought was a dandy idea, but they woludn't go for it.
Little did I know what I was in for.
The preparations began 6 months ahead of time. The guest list. It seemed that every cowboy and outfitter from Nogales to Cheyenne was included, plus all of the future wife's kinfolk and friends, a couple of my ex-husbands and all the in-laws and out-laws from both families.
The invitations had to be special made. Cowboy theme, custom artwork. Can you say "vellum"? That sweet little girl and I worked for weeks on them -- they were doozy's, I must admit.
As the big day approached, I had to arrange for food. Tamales, chili beans, steak, veggie tamales for the odd-balls (I told them that all our cows were vegetarian, but it didn't make a difference), salads, wedding cake, beer, beer, beer, champagne, snacks. I finally found an old cowboy camp cook to take care of the whole meal thing, it turned out great!
The wedding dress -- only Double D Ranchwear crochet would do, thank you very much. Of course these fashions cost an arm and a leg, but you're only supposed to go around once, so what the heck.
The dance was to be held in the barn. Thousands of electric christmas tree lights were hung, tulle at the doorway, so "Santa Fe", you know. That old barn had never had it so good. The barn cats hung out in the tack room and din't show their faces for a week.
Meanwhile, the company began to trickle in. Cowboy teepes dotted the horse pasture, a shooting range was set up, it was turning into a regular rendevouz.
The bride's family, more refined, took up half the motel space in town.
On the morning of the wedding, the bride and her womenfolk took over my master bedroom and giggles erupted through out the day. One head or another would peek out of the door, asking "Do you have any more hair spray?" or "Where's the ironing board?"
The groom and his buddies were all out at the shooting range, or drinking beer. It crossed my mind that the groom might not be in the best shape for the wedding.
Finally, the event. Outside, under the big spreading locust tree, they said their vows. She was beautiful, he was sober, and tears were shed all around by the females of the families.
Dinner and dancing went on until 3:00 a.m, with little breaks for cowboys to show off their story telling or poetry reciting skills. Little kids teased the dogs and each other until they got tired enough to fall asleep. The bride and groom where "shivareed" with banging pots and pans until daylight.
The old ways die hard around here --- what a day -- it was worth it, after all.
And, I always did want a daughter.