SO. Mom got married.
She chose the Saturday after Thanksgiving as the big day, so B, the kids, and I trekked in the day BEFORE Thanksgiving (13 FUCKING HOURS THROUGH BUMPER TO BUMPER TRAFFIC WITH BOTH DOGS IN TOW) in order to spend three *splendid* days with the Tennessee family. This is what you need to know about the trip:
1. I get motion sick, so I cannot read in the car (unless it's something dirty enough to distract me-- like when I read 50 SHADES OF GRAY in its entirety during the drive home over Easter) which made the drive even longer.
2. Blaker was irritable. I was irritable. The kids were noisy. The dogs were confused.
3. Sutton has a bladder the size of a walnut.
4. At one point, long before we reached out destination, I broke out a bottle of wine and filled my empty Vitamin Water bottle with enough to wash down a handful of Xanax and sip for the rest of the journey. (No, I wasn't driving. Duh.)
5. I hate even numbers. Therefore, I could not end the list on 4. Coincidentally, 4 is my LEAST FAVORITE NUMBER OF ALL TIME. I don't know why. It just is.
We reached Mom's condo in Chattanooga on Wednesday night. On Thursday, we had Thanksgiving. This is what you need to know about Thanksgiving:
1. I was sober. The alcohol didn't seem to be easing my stress, so I just gave up. I don't know why. I just did.
2. My Mom had gone all Martha Stewart on Wednesday and prepared most of the things we were going to eat, then put them in the fridge so all we needed to do on Thursday was put everything in the oven. In order to help her remember what she needed to do, she made a to do list. It consisted (in its entirety) of the following: Put turkey in oven. The necessity of this list made me realize that perhaps Mom has more issues than I originally realized and that I should take note in order to discuss them with the GG.
3. My future stepfather and two Korean stepsisters were there. Actually, no, wait. One of the girls didn't show up. HOWEVER, my sister-in-law showed up with a large, black, dreadlocked woman whom I assumed (correctly? incorrectly? who knows?) was a lesbian due to her intense masculinity and blatant adoration of pro football. Therefore, we had a very culturally diverse Thanksgiving (redneck, Yankee, Asian, black, etc.) This was a Tennessee first.
On Friday, my brother came over to the condo and we all drove up to my old house, which now sits abandoned in my hometown. I had not been in the house since about six months after my Dad died because my Mom had moved out when a giant tree was propelled by an equally giant tornado into the house, thus rendering said house uninhabitable for a portion of time. Once it was repaired, she chose not to move back, so although I had visited the farm several times since then, I had not been in the house because it was locked and my key no longer fit. This is what you need to know about the visit to the house and subsequent activities on Friday:
1. I located, and acquired into my possession, a letter that my Dad wrote to my Mom, brother, and I back in 2001 in case of his death. It's funny and sad and very bittersweet.
2. We scattered Dad's ashes in the Ocoee River after the farm trip (EPA, if this is somehow illegal, PLEASE SUCK IT AND DIE. THERE'S NOT MUCH YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT NOW, MOTHERFUCKERS.) Dad loved the mountains, and I had already scattered a handful of him there a year ago, after I sealed him in reusable Ziploc plasticware (no, I did not choose to reuse the container after I scattered those ashes, just in case you are coming to my house for dinner at some point and terrified that I might sent you home with leftovers in the "had a dead man in it" tub), then took his remains whitewater rafting down the upper and middle Ocoee.
3. This was a sad day.
Saturday was the WEDDING. Now, I had prepped Mom ahead of time that YES, I WOULD BE DRUNK. I would behave myself (to the best of my ability) but there was no way in holy hell that I was going to be able to attend her wedding sober and not burst into some sort of emotionally unstable fit, thus potentially throwing either myself or others off the riverboat where the wedding was held, which was extremely dangerous considering the air temperature was in the fucking 30's (for the outdoor, after dark, on-a-moving-boat wedding). Mom, being used to my general unfiltered drunken debauchery, cheerfully acknowledged my intended drunkenness and went about her business. (Cheerfully acknowledging yet not worrying about things like that is one of Mom's strong points.) Here is what you need to know about the wedding:
1. I remember NOTHING beyond the first three minutes of stepping aboard the boat, seeing my brother and hearing him and Shawna say, "Hey, we found the bar." Additionally, I had been pregaming for a couple of hours before I even showed up AND I had an entire BOTTLE of vodka in my purse, just in case somebody got smart and decided to cut me off before I was ready. When I got home that night, my entire purse bottle was empty, I know I had had at least three dirty martinis and several gin martinis from the bar (these came AFTER the dirty VODKA martinis once I reached the point where I was too drunk to remember to order the martinis with vodka instead of gin) in addition to quite a bit of wine. Apparently, there was food involved at some point as I had been told we were having dinner after the wedding, and because I remember throwing up large amounts of unfamiliar food into Mom's guest bathtub, which my amazingly wonderful and understanding husband cleaned up because I was passed out in the floor. (Hey, at least it was in the TUB. Easy cleanup. High five, Haley!) Below is drunk me, with B. His tie matches my dress, because we're THAT kind of couple.
2. Apparently, during my drunkenness, I exchanged cell numbers with A LOT of people aboard the boat-- both known and unknown--and made LOTS of new friends. I am only aware of this as I keep getting crazy texts from various people who are now in my phone contacts but whom (in my sober state) I don't actually know. Or recognize. Or remember dancing, drinking, conversing, or making out with. Funny, I'm so anti-social when I'm sober, but give me a gallon of vodka and BAM-- bitches get friendly.
3. I have been informed by several family members (Misty, I'm talking to you) that I did not do anything embarrassing at the wedding including (or, at the very least not EXCLUDING) exposing myself, protesting to said marriage during the ceremony, vomiting, or sobbing. I feel that this speaks very highly of my extremely drunken abilities, and also erases a lot of doubt I had regarding my actions last time Blaker and I went to New York City. (Yet another night I cannot remember AND threw up in a bathtub. I may puke, but HEY, at least I'm jovial.) Fortunately, these positive inebriated choices included choosing NOT to participate in a stage rendition of "Proud Mary" in which my (sober) mother and aunt sang and played tambourines (I shall post photos of this debacle, solely for my own entertainment) for the masses. HIGH FUCKING FIVE, ME.
The next day, we drove home to Virginia. This is what you need to know about Sunday:
1. The drive once again took 13 hours. I still got motion sick. The kids were still noisy. The dogs were still confused.
2. I actually DID NOT have a hangover. I suspect this is due to the vomiting and the PRAYERS TO JESUS TO PLEASE SAVE ME FROM MY DRUNKEN SELF.
3. I was never in my life so glad to be home as I was that night when we finally got in.
I think that pretty much covers it. Thank God it's over. Below are more drunken photos for your perusal-- my plastered sis-in-law, plastered brother, and the bride and groom. Oh, and me with my best friend, the martini glass.