A whirlwind of planning and  shopping activities followed along with some tearful, stressed out moments as the big day grew closer.  This was such an important time in Kate’s life that it was important to Ireney too.  She was as close to Kate as if she were her sister and it was an honor for Ireney to be a part of her wedding.  Ireney took her duties very seriously and wanted to be the best matron of honor ever.  She studied up on her duties and wedding etiquette so as to do everything properly.

John-Wayne even got a little excited and announced his intention to wear his new blue suit jacket purchased from Walmart.   Many details were discussed among the women along with some squeals of delight as the rustic elegant wedding decor and clothing were decided upon.   This was to be a very tasteful garden wedding with a medieval flavor.  Kate had some friends whom were chef’s and had volunteered to barbecue tri tip and salmon along with asparagus spears.  Lemonade and iced tea and potluck dishes were also to be part of the feast, along with some killer cheesecake and coffee.

As the weeks turned into the days prior to the wedding,  rainclouds gathered and frequently burst upon the valley with heavy downpours and some thunder and lightning.  Ireney and Kate became extremely worried that it was going to dump rain upon the beautiful wedding tables and dresses, ruining everything.   This led to the rental of a huge white canopy which eased their minds some.

The two women had been running around shopping and doing other errands, looking at their lists, and getting manicures and pedicures for about4 days prior to the wedding.  They were both exhausted, stressed out and gleeful at the same time.  To make matters worse, Kate’s groom had come down the night before the wedding with a case of food poisoning but thank the Lord was better by late evening.

Finally the morning of the wedding came and the sky was a beautiful sunny blue with a few fluffy clouds.  Ireney and Kate were relieved.  Ireney showered and put on her running shoes, grabbing her suitcase and coffee on the way out the door.  She headed to Kate’s house where trucks were being loaded with tables and barbecue grills, wedding flowers, clothing and candles, tablecloths and napkins and every other little item needed for the ceremony and feast following.

For the first time in her life, Ireney began to feel a little afraid of Kate.  Kate had a look on her face of a woman driven close to the brink of madness due to too much stress, worry and lack of sleep.    Ireney tread cautiously around Kate for that day as she tried to help.

Finally everything was loaded and the caravan were on their way to a lovely historic hotel with beautiful grounds about an hour away.

Ireney’s other best friend Lucy had traveled 8 hours to spend the weekend with Ireney and enjoy Kate’s wedding with her.   Poor Lucy didn’t realize what she was getting into when she had made plans to spend the weekend and attend a wedding.  She worked hard alongside Ireney and Kate unpacking things and setting up wedding tables, dishes and decorating with white fluffy tulle and ivy.   Time was of the essence as the women were running behind about an hour in their preparations.   Finally Kate had went into the inn to get dressed and do her hair.  Ireney and Lucy followed about an hour later, checking into the hotel and dragging luggage up the steep staircase, trying to admire the setting and decor of the 100 plus year old historic inn as they went.

Kate’s hair was lovely, swept back into a high ponytail with beautiful curls cascading down her back.  Her dress was wrinkled though and her friend and other Maid of Honor Miss Dee was trying to steam the wrinkles out with a fabric steamer.  The wrinkles were being stubborn, and eventually Lucy took over the job, while the women got dressed and Ireney’s hair was done.

The women were transformed into a lovely medieval queen and her court.  Kate was so beautiful that Ireney almost cried looking at her.  Ireney herself was as excited as if she were getting married and totally enjoyed the styling of her hair and makeup transforming the country girl into a lovely proper medieval  woman of the court with a slightly innocent wenchy look hiding behind those feisty eyes.  Ireney definitely got into the role as if it had been meant for her and felt as it she were glowing with happiness and excitement for her friend.   Something sweet that jumped out at Ireney and filed away at the back of her mind, was the unselfishness of her bride-friend in regards to her enjoyment in Ireney’s transformation.

The woman were about 45 minutes late and headed down the steep staircase, where Kate’s brother Marc met them.  They headed out back and behind the hotel on a stone pathway, with Marc saying calmly and assuring to Kate and the women, “Now just walk slowly and smile, you have all the time in the world”.   This also calmed Ireney’s pounding heart and nerves as they approached the bridge that would lead the way through a garden archway to the outdoor wedding altar and Pastor Doug whom was waiting with his back to the little creek which was gurgling and singing along.

Ireney  could hear the harpist’s lovely music as she took a step down and began the wedding procession towards the bridge praying to God that she would not trip and fall.   She took a step onto the bridge and smiled as she walked slowly across towards the group of people waiting by the little outdoor altar.  One lady said “Hey Ireney” and smiled as she went by.  Ireney saw John-Wayne looking at her with this amazed look on his face.  It was an admiring look and as Ireney walked by John-Wayne, she gave him a little wink and said “Hey baby”, softly almost under her breath.  John-Wayne’s smile stretched across his face from ear to ear.

Next came Miss Dee walking across the bridge looking lovely in an almost golden way,  followed by a slight pause.  Kate and Marc approached the bridge.  Marc gave Kate a little kiss on her cheek and she began her walk across the bridge towards her groom and new life of marriage.

As Kate approached the altar the look on her groom’s face almost made Ireney cry.  Kate was such a lovely bride with a soft look of love on her face and in her eyes as she gazed up at her groom Bryan.   Bryan looked down at Kate with an amazing look of love and tenderness as the ceremony began.

As the Pastor went through the ceremony, Ireney was having some difficulty as there was not quite enough room for two Maid of Honors to stand next to the Bride, therefore she was nestled in the trees some.   Her long flowing golden sleeve caught on the wrought iron pillar and Ireney had a momentary fear that it would topple over with her, but she dislodged the sleeve and all was well.  A little bee lit on each of the women’s bouquets and each woman ignored the bee as it did it’s job with the flowers and flew away.   The Unity Candle was lit and communion taken by the Bride and Groom.  It was such a lovely ceremony as their lives together were signified by the lighting of the candle and their sharing of the blood of Jesus as an almost married couple for the first time, drinking out of the same goblet.

As they were pronounced man and wife, Ireney felt this huge sense of relief and happiness for her friend.  The couple kissed and the crowd applauded.   The photographer began taking more pictures and the crowd milled about talking and hugging and laughing.  Ireney was visiting with some of the folks and discussing how beautiful everything was.

Something in the vision of the corner of Ireney’s  eye made her turn and glance back towards the altar.  The altar area with the burning Unity Candle was still so lovely and pure looking except for one thing that made Ireney’s jaw drop wide open.  Her beloved husband John-Wayne had rolled a cigarette on the white table cloth and was leaning over to light his home rolled cig directly off of the Unity Candle!  Ireney froze in disbelief at his ignorance, with fury following as she watched John-Wayne take a puff of his cigarette and then pick up the goblet with the left over blood of Christ and take a big swallow, downing the wine left in the glass.

Ireney picked up her dress on both sides and flew across the grass hen style towards poor John-Wayne, hissing and almost spitting out his name.  “John-Wayne, No, No, NOooooo!:”  John-Wayne jerked his head around and saw the blazing fury in Ireney’s eyes as she clucked her way towards him.  He grabbed up his tobacco pouch and scurried away, afraid for his life.  Damned that crazy man, what was he thinkin’?  The altar was a sacred place.  She would hope that no one else noticed and would kill him later.

The rest of the day was very nice, with much laughter and hugs, mingled in with pictures.  The feast was wonderfully delicious, the chef’s had outdid themselves.  The cheesecake was decadent and the cup of coffee was like medicine for Ireney.  Kate’s family and friends swooped in and cleaned up, packing the trucks and whisking all away.

Kate was so exhausted that she could not get out of her dress by herself and when Ireney and Lucy went upstairs to help, found her flopped face down on the bed in the lovely dress.  As Kate looked up at them, she had a look on her face that if you did not know her you would think she had imbided of too much alcohol.  Not so, as Kate did not drink and  there was no alcohol at her wedding.  Ireney wondered how she would ever enjoy her wedding night with so much exhaustion evident on her face, poor thing.  Lucy and Ireney helped Kate out of her dress and she pulled on some jeans still glowing from the ceremony and love.

They all gathered on the huge front porch later that evening and rested and talked about the ceremony.  It was a very lovely cozy aftermath and Ireney enjoyed it.

Lucy and Ireney had planned to stay on at the hotel for the night also, but were both having a hard time unwinding from the days of activity, so they took a walk. They were looking for a nice spot to smoke the joint in and got afraid as they saw the local police car cruise by, so they waited.  “Can you imagine Lucy, getting busted at our age?”  said Ireney.

Finally, they took a couple of tokes and got stoned silly, giggling and laughing all the way back to the inn.   They slept together in the big four posted bed and giggled like school girls through the night.

The next morning after a lovely breakfast the women headed home.  Ireney and Lucy talked and talked on the drive home.  They had had so much fun sharing in this experience with Kate that they would always remember it.

Ireney hugged Lucy goodbye and they made plans to get together in her town next.  As Lucy drove away, Ireney in her still exhausted state of mind, thought to herself what an honour it was to have been a part in Kate’s special day and what an honour it was to have friends like her and Lucy in her life.

Ireney walked into her kitchen and let out a little sigh when she saw the dirty  dishes on the counter.  She also spied a little blue napkin that had somehow traveled home from Kate’s wedding.   Kate had to return all of the linens from the wedding in a few days.   “John-Wayne!!!”  yelled, Ireney.     Darned that man what was he thinking?

 Away from the addiction, at least for now.

 After 37 years, the disease has progressed in all of it’s sadness, weirdness and devastation.

 No more, finally, I said. I ran. Saved up money, packed up my crap, my dogs, cats, adult child, elderly mother and high tailed it out of town.

Walked away from my home of 20 years, let the mortgage company have it. Let him have it. Let the drug addicts have it.

 I am done. Thank God, I am done.

I know I can’t save him. I do not “hold the key”. It is his choice. Sink or Swim. I must save myself.

 I will not help him to kill himself. I will not watch anymore. I will not help him to sink. I do hope he chooses to swim.

Thank God, I am done.

Thank God.

Peace………

Here I am 52 years  old and asking my mom silly questions like a child.  I do have a lot of child left in me, oh well, I guess it is fun to play, even as an adult.   Silliness is me and my life. 

I eat cherry pie, then change into my work out clothes.  After all, cherry pie can’t possibly fatten you up when you have work out clothes on.  I mean, the pie wouldn’t dare. 

Anyway, I feel better with the work out clothes on. Maybe I should forget the pie and just have a lot of sex instead, yeah that will do it.   You don’t even need work out clothes for that, therefore, it is economical.    Oh god, I just can’t stand myself sometimes. 

Maybe instead, I will just become a pie eating sex machine.

Dear Lord,  Let there be cherry pie also in heaven.  Is it a sin to pray for sex too?  Don’t worry, I won’t go there.

Each year after the meal, I say bitterly, “Why did I bother?”  The meal lasts 5 minutes, then my mother goes and lays down, then complains later, while my husband just watches football and continues to make mess after mess in the kitchen throughout the rest of the day and night.  My married son has dinner with his in-laws and their huge family.  My daughter is in and out.

I am usually left with a huge mess, an exhausted check book, and extremely sore feet.  Exhaustion of my body sets in from the pre-holiday stress of shopping, worrying, cleaning, etc.  I usually feel a little “ruined”  for a couple of days afterward.

Each year, I put myself through all of this mind crap about how on Thanksgiving, all families except mine, look and feel like the smiling Norman Rockwell paintings. 

All families, other than mine, are surrounded by loving, laughing, fun family and friends, who share in the preparation and cooking of this huge meal. 

All families, other than my own, play board games, or go play in the snow together after the big meal, then decorate the outside of the house for Christmas, then sit in front of a nice warm fireplace and drink hot cocoa, or spiked eggnog together, talking and laughing. 

This year, I told my husband we are going out for dinner.  He did not want to.  I was determined, but then a turkey appeared, and I eventually decided, I would cook.

I had most of the dinner items by the weekend before, so my shopping was minimal.  When I got home on Thanksgiving Eve after a second round of shopping, I was looking forward to cooking a meal for my family. 

My husband had helped out tremendously by vacuuming and mopping the floors, thus eliminating big piles of dog hair.  I really dislike cooking with dog hair on the floor, (we have a long-haired retriever).

I prepared as much of the food as possible the night before and got to bed at a decent hour, rising to finish the rest of the meal in the morning.  It was the easiest time I had ever had fixing a Thanksgiving feast. 

It was only the 3 of us at dinner, and though a little sadness always creeps in as you remember your parents and/or other family members who aren’t there and long for times past, you realize that you actually enjoyed making this dinner for the people you love.

My husband tried to dive in without the blessing having been said, and I stopped him.   “Hey you, wait a minute!”  I tell him.  Though we don’t daily say a blessing before we eat, there are a few holidays that I insist on it. 

 I look at my husband and mother and say, “Well guys, they are dropping like flies around here, it’s just us.”  and we ask God to bless our food, family and friends and thank Him for all He has provided. 

I realize that I would indeed miss this feast of thanks if I canceled Thanksgiving.

On the weekends, he fills a mop bucket with Pinesol and announces that it is time for you and your brother to get up out of bed and get your rooms cleaned.  The drill sergeant in him comes out of hiding.

If you are caught saying a bad word, watch it, the bottle of hot sauce finds it’s way on your tongue!  Just a drop or two.   Effective.   Occasionally a spanking happens.  The old fashioned way.  Not the abusive way spoken  of today.  You are no worse the wear for it.

You and your Bro are lined up to take a spoon full of honey each night just before bedtime, as it is said to help curtail bed wetting.  It doesn’t work.  It is your Dad’s fault anyway, the hereditary gene comes from him.

You play in the yard with your dog while he gardens.  When he mows the lawn, you walk behind him with your palms on his levi back pockets, fascinated by the way his butt cheeks move as he walks.  (You are about 2 or 3 years of age at this point. )

When watching a Saturday afternoon movie on t.v. with him, a heavy love scene comes on and he turns the channel mumbling that children don’t need to be watching that crap.  Protecting you.

When he goes overseas for a while year at a time, you are devastated and miss him so much.  A year is an unfathomable amount of time for a child.

When your mom has a nervous breakdown, he comes back from overseas and makes arrangements for relatives to take care of you for the rest of the year.  You are well taken care of, in a fun place with cousins you love, but the sadness and missing your parents leave a hole in your belly like none other.

He builds you a bedroom from the garage and paints it “apple blossom pink”  and he is your hero.  Your black piano looks very nice against those extremely pale pink walls.

When nightmares cause you to wake screaming, “Daddy!”  He comes running and says everything is alright.

He kills bugs for you.

He teaches you to drive.

He worries about you and searches for you and calls the police when you run away for a night just to keep your best friend from having an adventure on her own.

He smacks you with a flyswatter when you smart mouth him and his best friend at 15 years old.  Very humiliating

You don’t realize the importance of his having served in the Army Air Corp in World War II as a bombadier until after he has passed from this life and you are grown.  You don’t appreciate the stories of his having “bailed out over France ” into German territory and how terrifying it must have been. You don’t realize the sacrafices he made for you, or your country,even if he wasn’t perfect. 

You do realize the gaping hole in your heart as you are with him on the day of his death, and the excruciating pain you feel in the loss. 

You do still feel some sadness and the emptiness when you go to the Veteran’s Cemetery and his is just one decorated patch of grass among so many nameless. 

As you gaze across the vast greeness and the sea of red, white and blue flags, you feel proud and sense the proudness he felt in serving his country.

Thanks Dad.

The Mustang sat for about 5 years before he sold it along with the  bee’s nests etc. inside.  He got very little money for it.  I never understood the neglect and stubbornness in this regard and am  still not sure I do.

After years of frustration and brain paining thoughts on the subject, the only thing  I could figure out was/is:

• No. 1,  my Husband is the biggest procrastinator I have ever met.

• No. 2 ,my Husband will not admit when he does not know how to fix something.  It must be a man thing.

• No. 3 , my Husband will let something sit and rot before getting rid of it.   He loved that car so much that he would rather see  it sit            there and rot before selling it to someone.

What bizarre behavior in this man beast, that I again, love-hate.    Now, if duct tape could have been used to fix that car, I am sure you would have witnessed the first ever duct-tape covered 1969 Mustang Mach 1 with a 351 engine strapped or wired  to it’s underbelly rumbling down the streets.

He loved this car so much that he never got over it.  He still looks at Mustangs to this day,  which really pisses me off.

He actually did buy a second one  later on, a sleek beauty from 1972 and  I thought,  he has  nerve.  I told him, “Don’t let this one sit and rot please.”

He has never listened to me a day in his life and wasn’t about to start now.  Of course, he hot rodded it around town, thinking he was a cool  40 year old guy,  listening to cassette tapes so loud it was embarrassing.  I hated the second Mustang.  To me it represented his “mid-life”  crisis. I envisioned him with his ears laid back as he drove maddening speeds with maddeningly loud rock and roll that was a little after “our time”, hoping some cute chicks would not be able to resist his savoir faire .

We needed a family car, our children were still at home then, and he gets another hot rod.  For Pete’s Sake.

Well, it didn’t get any better.  The car went to his head.  He became that car as he went on a spree, an 8 month runner of partying with his buddies, doing God knows what.  I had made him leave after the first month of this crap, needless to say.

After 8 months, he talked me into letting him come back home.  Actually, he just came over and wouldn’t leave.  He is still here and it is 15 years later.

The junk car that is sitting in front of our house is not a Mustang, nor anything lovely.  It is just an old family car that is no longer worth keeping.  We will sell it for $50.00 to a young guy who has been “jonesin’” for it.  The young man will have a party with his buddies and beat the car up and run it over with trucks with huge tires, so he is excited about it.

Maybe if I throw in an extra $50.00 I can talk him into taking the Hubby for a ride too.

I have me orders to write even if it is a little tiny paragraph.  Loving thanks to you who encourage me and don’t let me give up.  You all know who you are……….

My last writing was more in the form of an “outburst” as one friend put it.  So true.  Let’s see I was threatening to throw my S.O.B. husband over the bridge as I remember and maybe follow him.  But I have not.  Might be easier if I did, but I have not.  Not only have I not done so, but won’t.  Hell I won’t even go so far as to throw him out.

I have accepted over the years, that I made my choice in staying with him and we are growing old together.  Sometimes together, sometimes not so “together”.  Things are shaky these days.

I find myself the “sole bread-winner”  in the household, while his union fights for his job.  I am not sure that he deserves it back.   But by golly, he gave it the best shot any drug addict ever did.  He poured his heart and soul in that damned job while pouring drugs down his throat, and up his nose  with straws and little glass pipes.    He stole from his job, pawned their equipment, and cleaned up their crap doing a fine job of it along the way. Yes, he was a great worker, excellent in his field.  In his mind that probably overshadows any wrong doing.

He has detoxed by himself, on his own and is over the illness part of it.  But it is not over.  Yesterday he felt sorry for himself, said he could “bite a nail”.  He felt sorry for the loss of chance with his son and his grandson.  I really don’t know what he expected.  What should one expect?  I am not sure where the idea of no consequences was born to him, if it is just him or all addicts.

I do know that right now, the goofy, fairly easy to get along with addict has been replaced with the biggest meanest asshole I have ever met in my life.  For some reason I find that harder to take.

I realize for the hundredth time that I have had this delusion that if the drugs were gone, everything will be okay.   The drugs will be replaced with possibly alcohol, or mood changes or meanness or something else that I can’t live with either.

I say to myself in complete and utter anguish, “It is never over”………………..

I just don’t even know what to say at this point. He is now planning on seeking in house treatment, as he does not have a choice, however he may loose his job for refusing a drug test. We will see how Union Policy effects this. I told him if he loses his job, he will go right out and find another right away, as I am not dealing with all of this. That is b.s. though because I am dealing with it aren’t I?

 Sighhhhhh……………. I toy silently with the idea of taking him on a hike and throwing his body off of a mountain. ………….or mine.

I have not known these folks long, but yet it seems like I always have.  I just can’t stand the helpless feeling.  Unable to help them, unable to console, or give hugs out.  Still helpless , at a loss for words, I hang up the phone as I know not what to say.  There is nothing to do, they are too many miles away.

I do hear later on that their puppy and cat are okay, thank God for that.  I do hear that some amazing firemen grab a precious guitar or two and a laptop full of thoughts, emotions and life.  I am glad for that.  Glad for them, that they are at least safe and unhurt.

Lord, please comfort them tonight, give them peace and rest.    Strengthen them for the days to come and meet their needs.   Thank you that these friends are safe.  Send them my love………….

There was a particular elderly trio of friends whom I had waited on a few times and I remember thinking how cute these senior customers were.  It was a little gentleman in a suit accompanied by two very prim and proper ladies.  The ladies wore blazers and skirts  in tasteful colors with their hair done just so, along with pearls etc.   At first I  was a little intimidated by them as they seemed awfully, “hoity toity” to me.

Each time they would come into the cafe, they would ask for coffee and pie, and they would split the pie 3 ways.   When their coffee got halfway down in the cup, they would motion me over again saying, “More coffee please dear”.   Their manners were impeccable, the ladies acting as if they were having high tea with the Queen, actually lovely to behold.

Once after refilling their cups, one of the ladies took a sip of the hot brew and looked up at me and almost growled out in the most dignified way, “Aw, but that’s damned good coffee”.   Surprised, I laughed and agreed thinking these folks were the cutest I had ever met.

I also love small town cafes and well, any good old coffee diner will do.  I love to sit and drink coffee and shoot the breeze with my friend, or read the newspaper, just chill out and relax.  Until recently, I had forgotten just how much I loved it.

I hold my friend somewhat responsible for this coffee diner-cafe fetish thing, though, actually I probably should blame my Mom first.  She was a coffee cafe kind of girl herself, now that I think of it.

A memorable time for me that I shared with my Mother, when I was a kid, was a trip to the local cafe for my first real hot fudge sundae.   I am not talking about the kind you can get at a drive through now a- days, but the good old fashioned kind.    I watched as the waitress grabbed for a pretty glass dessert dish,  swirling that ebony wonderful smelling goo around the inside of the dish then adding hand scooped vanilla ice cream.   Another ladle  of the fudge followed.  I had never seen a sundae before, and was practically salivating as she swooshed on the spray whipped cream, followed by chopped nuts and a maraschino cherry on top.    She sat it down before me with a flourish saying, “There you go young lady” and just as I had expected, it was love at first bite.   As I sat there downing the decadent masterpiece, swinging my legs  from the stool and half twirling this way and then that, I could not understand how my Mother could only drink black coffee as she smiled at me eating this delicious concoction.

Later, I fell in love with the whole soda fountain, coffee shop type atmosphere, but it definitely got worse when my daughter was small and I was a stay at home mom.  I did not drive either so when my friend came along and said, “Let’s go for coffee”,  we would grab little Salli-o by the hand and haul her off to the local cafe, where we would drink countless cups of black coffee and smoke the heck out of our cigarettes and gab, gab, gab.   We would get interrupted seven thousand times by my daughter, and would get sidetracked trying to keep her from sneak drinking the little creamers.  She’d sneak one and just giggle.  Sigh, she didn’t really need the extra calories at that time either, as she was a pudgy little girl.

This became a favorite past time of ours often annoying our husbands as they thought we should be home doing women stuff.  This also became a time when my friend and I got to know each other very well and gained each other’s trust.  Seventeen years later  we still try to go for coffee now and then.  Not as much as we used to as our lives seem busier in some ways now.

Salli-O has grown up, (though she still would like to drink the creamers, I know her weak spots).   I am  now a grandmother and  care for my elderly Mom.  My friend is planning a wedding and we are both growing a little older, (we are sure we are still cute though).   Our coffee times have become scarcer than they were and somehow more precious.

Yes, our lives have changed, we have been through much and will go through more, but from time to time we get together to drink  coffee and ask for more.   I am almost always reminded of those dear elderly friends and look up at my friend as I say, “Aw, that is some damned good coffee”.  We smile and laugh and talk some more hoping that we will be doing this many times more even when we reach their age.