22 March 2011
Story #380
R. Linda:
This week was to be Maureen's wedding, and it was. But if ye remember the less-than-happy conversation she and I had, well, I knew then the date would be either cancelled entirely or pushed way back. She and the betrothed had a row when they got home and are now working things out. Oh, they are still getting hitched, but now that she postponed it for this week, she's running into all kinds of problems. And I found she is still rethinking it. Oi!
She told me she had stopped printing the invitations in time, so that's taken care of. Her friend, who owns a bakery, is holding off on baking the cake, and the food is also on hold. She lucked out, she did. She was all about the top tier being an Irish Whiskey cake to save for the firstborn's christening. I thought that once the wedding was over, she'd best be working on the kid, or that will be one stale whiskey cake.
The place where she was having the wedding was not happy with her, but they are holding her deposit for a later date. She assures me that she is getting married and has to wait for the venue to confirm when she can. It seems they got back to her today and gave her a date in May. She looked somewhat amused when she hung up the phone. Since me cubicle be straight across from hers, I asked if something was amiss.
"Da weddin' place gave me two dates in May to choose."
"Is dat too early?" Asked I.
"Marry in May, rue the day. Ye certainly knows dat."
"Uh, no, not up on dese tings," I said.
"I taught fer shure dey would have said April, marry in April if ye kin, joy fer maiden and fer man." She shrugged.
"Oh, dat be so superstitious, now dun't ye tink?" I asked.
'I'm Irish, I'm superstitious," she half smiled.
I wanted to say, Maureen, ya sound like yer a Catholic too, but I didn't. I didn't want to start up with her, so instead, I asked her what kind of wedding she wanted.
"I was hopin' ta do the old cookin' of the goose the night before the weddin', an' I guess I'll have to freeze the one I got."
OH MY GOD, I knew the tradition: It be called Aitin' the gander. Instead of a rehearsal dinner at an expensive restaurant, she opts for a dinner where the groom is invited to the bride's house, where a goose is cooked in his honour. Actually, I always thought that quite funny because it was his goose being cooked!
"Are ya clunkin' down an old 'orseshoe wit yerself down the aisle?" I mused.
"Oh nooo, no. I have a plastic one I put in me bag sos yer dunt show it. I do have da magic hanky. It was passed down from me Mamo," She sighed. The hanky receives a few stitches that can be turned into a baby's christening bonnet. If this is supposed to ensure kiddies in nine months, I have notta clue. The horseshoe? God knows, luck, I guess, and at this point, she'll need it. Then she sighed, "I have a lovely silver bell for him. Sos when we do fight, we can ring away the evil spirits. I bought a slew for the guests, so once the I Dos arr said, dey can ring dem."
Oh no, not that. I thought that tradition had died out. It gets loud, as these tiny bells guests will ring when they want to toast the couple as well. You'd think St. Nick's elves were all about the place. And, more importantly, does she really think ringing a bell at him during an argy will make it better? I was trying hard not to laugh.
"I had to cancel me friends doin' da Irish dance. At least da time will give dem a bit more to perfect it. I was lookin' fer Irish dancers and taught, I have friends who'll do it, so why hire? I had rented da full dresses and shoes fer dem, but I'll have to ring the place on dat until I have a new date."
Talk about noise. Get the Irish music going, the champagne flowing, and then the dancers up and that heel to the board makes all manner of thunder. It does get guests up and moving, but I do wonder what her friends think of the quick change to performance clothing? Won't they feel like the hired help? Well, I wasn't going to bring that to mind. I wasn't dancing, so there was no need.
"We hadn't picked out a readin', so this gives us more time on dat too. He didn't want one, but I do. I was all about a romantic poem, and he was suggestin' Yeats. Yeats me arse!" She said with some heat. I thought, 'Well, here we go; she keeps this up, and that wedding will never occur.' "And den he wanted to use da old askin of da vows by sayin' 'Would ya like to be buried wid me people?' And I be supposed ta ask him in turn, 'Would ye like to hang yer washin' next to mine?' Sometimes, he lives in da Middle Ages!"
I tried to get her attention off that and keep a straight face at the same time. I asked if she had a wedding song, but as soon as I asked, I knew that, too, was probably going the same way as the reading.
"Nooo, we haven't." Flashes of lightning in her eyes at that answer. Then she looked ill, "Oh, by the saints, I forgot to cancel the flowers!"
And back she went, calling the florist. It was a tense few moments, but they, too, would hold her deposit, and do the bouquets and such at a later date, but there was something about specially ordered Irish roses and shamrocks she would end up paying for anyway. She came back and stood in me doorway.
"Ye know I almost was goin' ta go true wid it, in da hopes I'd make a beautiful bride and the faeries would coom since dey be attracted ta beautiful tings, an' spirit me away to an Irish faery prince. And it would have happened because I saw me man was going ta wear green socks! Green!" She sighed, thinking.
In thinking about the faeries spiriting her away, I almost blurted out, LIKE THAT WOULD HAPPEN, but luckily caught me tongue in time as I caught the remark about the green socks. Green is considered taboo at an Irish wedding. Was he nuts? Was I actually getting into this conversation, or what?
I lost track of some of the wistful conversation as I thought joyously to meself; that it meant I had me Friday free. I, too, got married on a Friday, not because it is considered unlucky by many Irish to marry on a Saturday (which it be), but me honeymoon travel couldn't be done for the price we wanted had we started off on a Sunday.
"When were ya married?" She asked me suddenly, "I can't remember whether it was November?"
"No, October. It was very nice, but it rained; I know, some may say, that it means lots of children in the marriage. And me wife was lucky it was me best man who wished her joy on her day, because it was almost her Mam was about to step in." Maureen gasped at that. "So we were saved by a fast-tinking Irishman we were." Yeah, it's bad luck for a woman to wish another woman joy on her wedding day; it has to be a male.
"Hum, I was tinkin October be a pretty month, but Rosie said dose dat marry during harvest will spend dere lives gatherin'."
"Gatherin' great wealth," I brightly interjected. "Oh, and ye know dat old sayin' about hearin' a cuckoo on yer weddin' mornin'? Me wife had a cuckoo clock in her kitchen. It went off as she was leavin' fer da church. She heard it and taught it meant she was cuckoo fer marryin' da likes of me when all da time it was wishin' her luck on her day." And I laughed at the memory.
"Dat reminds me I heard at Barry and Molly's weddin' dey stomped on a glass. I was horrified at dat, such bad luck!" She said.
"Jewish tradition for good luck, I know Irish for bad. Wot kin I say, but I do know Molly was not comfortable wid dat."
"Well, I heard dey tied da knot during a growing moon and a flowing tide, so maybe dat cancelled it out." She said, convinced that would do it. "Oh, and his best man, he has dat tired old sayin' aboot the road comin' up ta meet yer back, an' I was not happy he couldn't coom up wid someting more original. Wot did yer best man say?"
Oh, that took me back. I thought momentarily that Tonya liked it so much, she would write it down later.
"He said, 'I raise a parting glass, may all your joys be pure joy and all your pain, champagne.'"
She looked at me like, "Aw, isn't that just the nicest? "Then she said, "Do you think we can borrow 'em?"
Yup, for the next few months, I will be immersed in the wedding business as she's sitting right across from me. I won't have a moment of peace, I won't. So I will have to drown me pain in champagne, maybe. I'll let you know if that works.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
This week was to be Maureen's wedding, and it was. But if ye remember the less-than-happy conversation she and I had, well, I knew then the date would be either cancelled entirely or pushed way back. She and the betrothed had a row when they got home and are now working things out. Oh, they are still getting hitched, but now that she postponed it for this week, she's running into all kinds of problems. And I found she is still rethinking it. Oi!
She told me she had stopped printing the invitations in time, so that's taken care of. Her friend, who owns a bakery, is holding off on baking the cake, and the food is also on hold. She lucked out, she did. She was all about the top tier being an Irish Whiskey cake to save for the firstborn's christening. I thought that once the wedding was over, she'd best be working on the kid, or that will be one stale whiskey cake.
The place where she was having the wedding was not happy with her, but they are holding her deposit for a later date. She assures me that she is getting married and has to wait for the venue to confirm when she can. It seems they got back to her today and gave her a date in May. She looked somewhat amused when she hung up the phone. Since me cubicle be straight across from hers, I asked if something was amiss.
"Da weddin' place gave me two dates in May to choose."
"Is dat too early?" Asked I.
"Marry in May, rue the day. Ye certainly knows dat."
"Uh, no, not up on dese tings," I said.
"I taught fer shure dey would have said April, marry in April if ye kin, joy fer maiden and fer man." She shrugged.
"Oh, dat be so superstitious, now dun't ye tink?" I asked.
'I'm Irish, I'm superstitious," she half smiled.
I wanted to say, Maureen, ya sound like yer a Catholic too, but I didn't. I didn't want to start up with her, so instead, I asked her what kind of wedding she wanted.
"I was hopin' ta do the old cookin' of the goose the night before the weddin', an' I guess I'll have to freeze the one I got."
OH MY GOD, I knew the tradition: It be called Aitin' the gander. Instead of a rehearsal dinner at an expensive restaurant, she opts for a dinner where the groom is invited to the bride's house, where a goose is cooked in his honour. Actually, I always thought that quite funny because it was his goose being cooked!
"Are ya clunkin' down an old 'orseshoe wit yerself down the aisle?" I mused.
"Oh nooo, no. I have a plastic one I put in me bag sos yer dunt show it. I do have da magic hanky. It was passed down from me Mamo," She sighed. The hanky receives a few stitches that can be turned into a baby's christening bonnet. If this is supposed to ensure kiddies in nine months, I have notta clue. The horseshoe? God knows, luck, I guess, and at this point, she'll need it. Then she sighed, "I have a lovely silver bell for him. Sos when we do fight, we can ring away the evil spirits. I bought a slew for the guests, so once the I Dos arr said, dey can ring dem."
Oh no, not that. I thought that tradition had died out. It gets loud, as these tiny bells guests will ring when they want to toast the couple as well. You'd think St. Nick's elves were all about the place. And, more importantly, does she really think ringing a bell at him during an argy will make it better? I was trying hard not to laugh.
"I had to cancel me friends doin' da Irish dance. At least da time will give dem a bit more to perfect it. I was lookin' fer Irish dancers and taught, I have friends who'll do it, so why hire? I had rented da full dresses and shoes fer dem, but I'll have to ring the place on dat until I have a new date."
Talk about noise. Get the Irish music going, the champagne flowing, and then the dancers up and that heel to the board makes all manner of thunder. It does get guests up and moving, but I do wonder what her friends think of the quick change to performance clothing? Won't they feel like the hired help? Well, I wasn't going to bring that to mind. I wasn't dancing, so there was no need.
"We hadn't picked out a readin', so this gives us more time on dat too. He didn't want one, but I do. I was all about a romantic poem, and he was suggestin' Yeats. Yeats me arse!" She said with some heat. I thought, 'Well, here we go; she keeps this up, and that wedding will never occur.' "And den he wanted to use da old askin of da vows by sayin' 'Would ya like to be buried wid me people?' And I be supposed ta ask him in turn, 'Would ye like to hang yer washin' next to mine?' Sometimes, he lives in da Middle Ages!"
I tried to get her attention off that and keep a straight face at the same time. I asked if she had a wedding song, but as soon as I asked, I knew that, too, was probably going the same way as the reading.
"Nooo, we haven't." Flashes of lightning in her eyes at that answer. Then she looked ill, "Oh, by the saints, I forgot to cancel the flowers!"
And back she went, calling the florist. It was a tense few moments, but they, too, would hold her deposit, and do the bouquets and such at a later date, but there was something about specially ordered Irish roses and shamrocks she would end up paying for anyway. She came back and stood in me doorway.
"Ye know I almost was goin' ta go true wid it, in da hopes I'd make a beautiful bride and the faeries would coom since dey be attracted ta beautiful tings, an' spirit me away to an Irish faery prince. And it would have happened because I saw me man was going ta wear green socks! Green!" She sighed, thinking.
In thinking about the faeries spiriting her away, I almost blurted out, LIKE THAT WOULD HAPPEN, but luckily caught me tongue in time as I caught the remark about the green socks. Green is considered taboo at an Irish wedding. Was he nuts? Was I actually getting into this conversation, or what?
I lost track of some of the wistful conversation as I thought joyously to meself; that it meant I had me Friday free. I, too, got married on a Friday, not because it is considered unlucky by many Irish to marry on a Saturday (which it be), but me honeymoon travel couldn't be done for the price we wanted had we started off on a Sunday.
"When were ya married?" She asked me suddenly, "I can't remember whether it was November?"
"No, October. It was very nice, but it rained; I know, some may say, that it means lots of children in the marriage. And me wife was lucky it was me best man who wished her joy on her day, because it was almost her Mam was about to step in." Maureen gasped at that. "So we were saved by a fast-tinking Irishman we were." Yeah, it's bad luck for a woman to wish another woman joy on her wedding day; it has to be a male.
"Hum, I was tinkin October be a pretty month, but Rosie said dose dat marry during harvest will spend dere lives gatherin'."
"Gatherin' great wealth," I brightly interjected. "Oh, and ye know dat old sayin' about hearin' a cuckoo on yer weddin' mornin'? Me wife had a cuckoo clock in her kitchen. It went off as she was leavin' fer da church. She heard it and taught it meant she was cuckoo fer marryin' da likes of me when all da time it was wishin' her luck on her day." And I laughed at the memory.
"Dat reminds me I heard at Barry and Molly's weddin' dey stomped on a glass. I was horrified at dat, such bad luck!" She said.
"Jewish tradition for good luck, I know Irish for bad. Wot kin I say, but I do know Molly was not comfortable wid dat."
"Well, I heard dey tied da knot during a growing moon and a flowing tide, so maybe dat cancelled it out." She said, convinced that would do it. "Oh, and his best man, he has dat tired old sayin' aboot the road comin' up ta meet yer back, an' I was not happy he couldn't coom up wid someting more original. Wot did yer best man say?"
Oh, that took me back. I thought momentarily that Tonya liked it so much, she would write it down later.
"He said, 'I raise a parting glass, may all your joys be pure joy and all your pain, champagne.'"
She looked at me like, "Aw, isn't that just the nicest? "Then she said, "Do you think we can borrow 'em?"
Yup, for the next few months, I will be immersed in the wedding business as she's sitting right across from me. I won't have a moment of peace, I won't. So I will have to drown me pain in champagne, maybe. I'll let you know if that works.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
DON'T DO IT MAUREEN!!! RUN!
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