19 June 2019
957
R. Linda:
Well, there be nothing like a bunch of hens getting together over an upcoming marriage, no, not Sean's he has left the building! Ha ha, gone with the wind, over the seas, over the river and dale back to Ireland he did go. No, this be a school marm, I know it isn't a nice word, but me Mam uses it for anyone who teaches kiddos. This is a close friend of Tonya's and being Tonya is the matron (a word Tonya doesn't like, says it makes her sound very old) of honour, the "girls" (and I use that term loosely), have been congregating in me kitchen planning the event.
The only good thing about this is that they all bring food and well . . .
It never dawned on me that besides stealing goodies off the kitchen counter when they weren't looking, I'd be roped into becoming an honourary hen. NEVER entered me brain, no, no, no! But, last week Tonya had to be at a prior appointment she couldn't get out of, and the hens were all meeting at this quaint little bistro for lunch to discuss THE upcoming nuptials. That was when yours truly got roped into being Tonya's substitute, the eyes and ears if you will of the Matron of Honour.
I asked her why not me Mam, who was standing in the room at the time and quickly informed me she wasn't available.
"Why aren't you available? What could you possibly be doing on a Sunday afternoon?"
"Why I be takin' care o' the kiddos, I am." Said she nervously.
"I could do that!"
"Nooo, ye con't. Ben be coomin' o' fer me to mend some socks."
I looked at her in disbelief. Right, that was silly talk, she could mend socks anytime, and really socks? There was no talking her into going in my stead, and the reason she told me privately was that one or two of the hens "jus' ain't me cuppa tea."
Great! So there I was last Sunday, all dressed up and on my way over dirt roads to the little house in the woods for a five-course meal and having to sit and listen to hens cluck. I was certainly looking forward to the food though.
I arrived and got the last parking space by the bistro, actually, I was there first and Hedda (one of the hens), I knew had seen that space at the last minute, but I beat her to it. I know, very ungentlemanly of me, but once I be fed I don't want to walk a mile to me car on a full stomach. Yeah, it's a man thing.
So the dinner bell hadn't rung (yes they ring this farm bell when the last sitting is over and everything be ready for the next), so I had to stand outside with the "girls." Hedda mentioned the parking space and I pretended like I hadn't seen her, inwardly laughing to meself and congratulating me on me having big feet and a fast gas pedal. I noticed Hedda was wearing a very short dress, if you can call it that, made of scarf material. Hedda be built like a beetle a rounded shape on top with spindle-like legs. The outfit looked like beachwear, but who am I to criticise? Denise, one of the bridesmaids, was also dressed like she was at a beach party, with sun-backed mini in startling colours and she had gained some weight! Probably all those goodies on me kitchen counter every Tuesday took their toll. Standing between them I felt like I should have worn shorts and sandals. But I was saved by the third member of the bridal party, Kellianne who had on capris with a flowery top. Not bad, but I was overdressed along with everyone else waiting for that chow bell to ring. The fourth member couldn't make it and I had to wonder why her husband wasn't forced to go in her stead, why just me? Finally, the bride-to-be came walking up looking like a million bucks in a long dress quite appropriate for dinner out.
I be picky about this because I did not want to be there, so bear with me whining and being a bit of a pratt.
Finally, the bell rang and we eventually got to our table. I noticed from Ms. Manners (you remember that afternoon long ago I took some child to the manners session since her parents couldn't make it?), well it wasn't for nothing, I remembered you put your napkin on your lap, but apparently, that memo never came to Hedda. Her napkin stayed on the table the entire time. The best was that during the soup she spilt a few drops on the edge of the tablecloth and later when she went to wipe her mouth, she used the tablecloth smearing the soup and her fuchsia lipstick all over herself and the tablecloth! Yes indeed, where did she come from? And, I had the added pleasure of sitting next to her looking like a clown. I noticed no one in the hen group bothered to tell her what she looked like. Sigh.
Listening to them, I was not hopeful Hedda would do all the things she said she would. Her attention was distracted by everyone in the room and outside it! At one point, I think it was the salad course, she blurts out loudly, "OH SHIT!" and everyone in the room and the room adjacent turned around and looked at us. She had seen her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend sitting outside. I wanted to crawl under the table. In her distraction she handed me the Italian breadsticks which were top-heavy, tilting the basket unconsciously because she was too busy looking out the window, and a bread roll fell in me lap (luckily I had my napkin placed so no garlic and grease stains), and as she tried to catch it, it went to the floor. So this big bread stick was under my feet the entire lunch.
That's not all, I am sorry to have to say. There was a cracker basket with a spicy jalapeño spread that was served once we were seated. It had a cheese knife for spreading and she used it a few times, so why she took me meat knife from my place setting and used that to spread the spread, I just don't know! When my entree arrived I was about to ask the waitress for a new knife, but someone came up to ask her where the restrooms were and that was that, so I took me knife back from Hedda's bread and butter dish and was cutting into me Chicken Marsala, taking a bite of that mixed with spicy jalapeño spread. Oh yum, NOT! I tell ya! She is a walking and sitting disaster. Everyone else just sat there like she wasn't part of the group.
The bride-to-be tried several times to steer the conversation to her wedding plans, but Hedda wasn't having it. She got up twice to go call her boyfriend about her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend. This set us back in courses as you can well imagine and we were the last to finish!
I left for home having accomplished nothing for Tonya but my stomach was full!
When I got home I had time to relax a bit before the wife arrived all wanting to know what she had to do for the bride. I reluctantly took her through the whole five courses of Hedda drama and told her that was that.
"I did try. I brought up the blended colour bridesmaid dresses like you suggested and no one said anything. So then I got that Pinterest app where there were pictures of dresses, just like you told me to, and they glanced and shrugged. I mean I didn't know what else I could have done. The only thing I do know is no wedding shower, the bride stated it was her second marriage, she had all she needed and didn't want to appear as one of those greedy brides. But Hedda was all about a bachelorette party and it sounded kinda weird and I be not sure Liz (the bride-to-be) liked the ideas Hedda put forth, like strippers and . . . so that's it." I said cringing because Tonya's eyes had narrowed to slits and the expression on her face was less than satisfied.
"I knew it!" She blurted. "Leave it to Hedda to make it all about her. Who cares if her ex's girlfriend was there, really? What is wrong with her she has to be the focus of attention?"
"I dunno," I said meekly.
Well, I'd like to say that was the last of Hedda for a wee bit, but no, no, no. The very next day, she went to her ex's with plants to dress up his house with. WHY is a good question. It seems she got herself besotted with beer after the jaunt to the restaurant in the woods and continued to drink herself into oblivion the next day, missing work, but lurching to the plant nursery and picking up things to plant to "pretty up" his abode. He wasn't at home and had no clue she was about the place. I can imagine his surprise upon returning and seeing all the colourful flowers that weren't there when he left. Anyway, this does not have a happy ending. No, indeed it does not! Having brought along a six-pack of beer to get her "creative juices flowing," she decided there wasn't enough dirt to plant with (I know how be THAT possible?). So, she saw that her ex had loam in the back of his very large truck bed. Being short she couldn't get up into it nor was there a step ladder to climb to get to it, instead she took an old rickety wheelbarrow and slanted it up on the truck and propelled her beetle body up the wheelbarrow, which being old and rickety, came apart and down she came after almost nearing the top, slicing her calf open and exposing the muscle. Yup!
And there she lay, bleeding and bloody on her back looking up at the sky with seemingly no one around sipping a beer. Except, for a neighbour who had been watching for his own amusement the lurching and drinking, and digging and then THE fall. He went out and called 911 to have her lifted away to hospital where she got thirty stitches.
The hens all rushed over to see her (she was sent home after being fixed up) and there she lay on her couch, leg up on a pillow, ankle and foot swollen, sipping what else, a beer! Painkillers and beer, yup she's a piece of work she is. After all the fussing and clucking over her, she interrupts the sympathy party and says, "I think I'll wear a short gown to your wedding, Liz. Show off the war scar."
Well, everyone paused, no one spoke, they all looked at poor Liz who was silently shaking her head, oh no you won't.
"You know I don't want to buy a gown, where would I wear it? Such a waste of money."
I will let that sit with you as it did with the rest of the bridal party. Why none spoke up I do not know. I do know if Tonya had been there, she would have raised hell, but she, unfortunately, was dealing with family matters of a tamer nature at home. Boys you know, argys and bargys and all that good stuff of having a teenager in the house with two smaller bros who want his attention and he doesn't want to give it. (Big sigh).
Just because I know you will ask, here be a pic of dessert. A chocolate ganache cheesecake with sea-salted caramel.
Gabe
Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved
957
R. Linda:
Well, there be nothing like a bunch of hens getting together over an upcoming marriage, no, not Sean's he has left the building! Ha ha, gone with the wind, over the seas, over the river and dale back to Ireland he did go. No, this be a school marm, I know it isn't a nice word, but me Mam uses it for anyone who teaches kiddos. This is a close friend of Tonya's and being Tonya is the matron (a word Tonya doesn't like, says it makes her sound very old) of honour, the "girls" (and I use that term loosely), have been congregating in me kitchen planning the event.
The only good thing about this is that they all bring food and well . . .
It never dawned on me that besides stealing goodies off the kitchen counter when they weren't looking, I'd be roped into becoming an honourary hen. NEVER entered me brain, no, no, no! But, last week Tonya had to be at a prior appointment she couldn't get out of, and the hens were all meeting at this quaint little bistro for lunch to discuss THE upcoming nuptials. That was when yours truly got roped into being Tonya's substitute, the eyes and ears if you will of the Matron of Honour.
I asked her why not me Mam, who was standing in the room at the time and quickly informed me she wasn't available.
"Why aren't you available? What could you possibly be doing on a Sunday afternoon?"
"Why I be takin' care o' the kiddos, I am." Said she nervously.
"I could do that!"
"Nooo, ye con't. Ben be coomin' o' fer me to mend some socks."
I looked at her in disbelief. Right, that was silly talk, she could mend socks anytime, and really socks? There was no talking her into going in my stead, and the reason she told me privately was that one or two of the hens "jus' ain't me cuppa tea."
Great! So there I was last Sunday, all dressed up and on my way over dirt roads to the little house in the woods for a five-course meal and having to sit and listen to hens cluck. I was certainly looking forward to the food though.
I arrived and got the last parking space by the bistro, actually, I was there first and Hedda (one of the hens), I knew had seen that space at the last minute, but I beat her to it. I know, very ungentlemanly of me, but once I be fed I don't want to walk a mile to me car on a full stomach. Yeah, it's a man thing.
So the dinner bell hadn't rung (yes they ring this farm bell when the last sitting is over and everything be ready for the next), so I had to stand outside with the "girls." Hedda mentioned the parking space and I pretended like I hadn't seen her, inwardly laughing to meself and congratulating me on me having big feet and a fast gas pedal. I noticed Hedda was wearing a very short dress, if you can call it that, made of scarf material. Hedda be built like a beetle a rounded shape on top with spindle-like legs. The outfit looked like beachwear, but who am I to criticise? Denise, one of the bridesmaids, was also dressed like she was at a beach party, with sun-backed mini in startling colours and she had gained some weight! Probably all those goodies on me kitchen counter every Tuesday took their toll. Standing between them I felt like I should have worn shorts and sandals. But I was saved by the third member of the bridal party, Kellianne who had on capris with a flowery top. Not bad, but I was overdressed along with everyone else waiting for that chow bell to ring. The fourth member couldn't make it and I had to wonder why her husband wasn't forced to go in her stead, why just me? Finally, the bride-to-be came walking up looking like a million bucks in a long dress quite appropriate for dinner out.
I be picky about this because I did not want to be there, so bear with me whining and being a bit of a pratt.
Finally, the bell rang and we eventually got to our table. I noticed from Ms. Manners (you remember that afternoon long ago I took some child to the manners session since her parents couldn't make it?), well it wasn't for nothing, I remembered you put your napkin on your lap, but apparently, that memo never came to Hedda. Her napkin stayed on the table the entire time. The best was that during the soup she spilt a few drops on the edge of the tablecloth and later when she went to wipe her mouth, she used the tablecloth smearing the soup and her fuchsia lipstick all over herself and the tablecloth! Yes indeed, where did she come from? And, I had the added pleasure of sitting next to her looking like a clown. I noticed no one in the hen group bothered to tell her what she looked like. Sigh.
Listening to them, I was not hopeful Hedda would do all the things she said she would. Her attention was distracted by everyone in the room and outside it! At one point, I think it was the salad course, she blurts out loudly, "OH SHIT!" and everyone in the room and the room adjacent turned around and looked at us. She had seen her ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend sitting outside. I wanted to crawl under the table. In her distraction she handed me the Italian breadsticks which were top-heavy, tilting the basket unconsciously because she was too busy looking out the window, and a bread roll fell in me lap (luckily I had my napkin placed so no garlic and grease stains), and as she tried to catch it, it went to the floor. So this big bread stick was under my feet the entire lunch.
That's not all, I am sorry to have to say. There was a cracker basket with a spicy jalapeño spread that was served once we were seated. It had a cheese knife for spreading and she used it a few times, so why she took me meat knife from my place setting and used that to spread the spread, I just don't know! When my entree arrived I was about to ask the waitress for a new knife, but someone came up to ask her where the restrooms were and that was that, so I took me knife back from Hedda's bread and butter dish and was cutting into me Chicken Marsala, taking a bite of that mixed with spicy jalapeño spread. Oh yum, NOT! I tell ya! She is a walking and sitting disaster. Everyone else just sat there like she wasn't part of the group.
The bride-to-be tried several times to steer the conversation to her wedding plans, but Hedda wasn't having it. She got up twice to go call her boyfriend about her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend. This set us back in courses as you can well imagine and we were the last to finish!
I left for home having accomplished nothing for Tonya but my stomach was full!
When I got home I had time to relax a bit before the wife arrived all wanting to know what she had to do for the bride. I reluctantly took her through the whole five courses of Hedda drama and told her that was that.
"I did try. I brought up the blended colour bridesmaid dresses like you suggested and no one said anything. So then I got that Pinterest app where there were pictures of dresses, just like you told me to, and they glanced and shrugged. I mean I didn't know what else I could have done. The only thing I do know is no wedding shower, the bride stated it was her second marriage, she had all she needed and didn't want to appear as one of those greedy brides. But Hedda was all about a bachelorette party and it sounded kinda weird and I be not sure Liz (the bride-to-be) liked the ideas Hedda put forth, like strippers and . . . so that's it." I said cringing because Tonya's eyes had narrowed to slits and the expression on her face was less than satisfied.
"I knew it!" She blurted. "Leave it to Hedda to make it all about her. Who cares if her ex's girlfriend was there, really? What is wrong with her she has to be the focus of attention?"
"I dunno," I said meekly.
Well, I'd like to say that was the last of Hedda for a wee bit, but no, no, no. The very next day, she went to her ex's with plants to dress up his house with. WHY is a good question. It seems she got herself besotted with beer after the jaunt to the restaurant in the woods and continued to drink herself into oblivion the next day, missing work, but lurching to the plant nursery and picking up things to plant to "pretty up" his abode. He wasn't at home and had no clue she was about the place. I can imagine his surprise upon returning and seeing all the colourful flowers that weren't there when he left. Anyway, this does not have a happy ending. No, indeed it does not! Having brought along a six-pack of beer to get her "creative juices flowing," she decided there wasn't enough dirt to plant with (I know how be THAT possible?). So, she saw that her ex had loam in the back of his very large truck bed. Being short she couldn't get up into it nor was there a step ladder to climb to get to it, instead she took an old rickety wheelbarrow and slanted it up on the truck and propelled her beetle body up the wheelbarrow, which being old and rickety, came apart and down she came after almost nearing the top, slicing her calf open and exposing the muscle. Yup!
And there she lay, bleeding and bloody on her back looking up at the sky with seemingly no one around sipping a beer. Except, for a neighbour who had been watching for his own amusement the lurching and drinking, and digging and then THE fall. He went out and called 911 to have her lifted away to hospital where she got thirty stitches.
The hens all rushed over to see her (she was sent home after being fixed up) and there she lay on her couch, leg up on a pillow, ankle and foot swollen, sipping what else, a beer! Painkillers and beer, yup she's a piece of work she is. After all the fussing and clucking over her, she interrupts the sympathy party and says, "I think I'll wear a short gown to your wedding, Liz. Show off the war scar."
Well, everyone paused, no one spoke, they all looked at poor Liz who was silently shaking her head, oh no you won't.
"You know I don't want to buy a gown, where would I wear it? Such a waste of money."
I will let that sit with you as it did with the rest of the bridal party. Why none spoke up I do not know. I do know if Tonya had been there, she would have raised hell, but she, unfortunately, was dealing with family matters of a tamer nature at home. Boys you know, argys and bargys and all that good stuff of having a teenager in the house with two smaller bros who want his attention and he doesn't want to give it. (Big sigh).
Just because I know you will ask, here be a pic of dessert. A chocolate ganache cheesecake with sea-salted caramel.
 |
| Not as good as it looked |
Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved
15 comments:
LMAO how did the desert taste ? Entrees aren't my thing. Hen parties even less. Hedda sounds like a stupid clown
It looks better than it tasted.
Sean's gone is he? No smashing big bash to send him off? LOL Think of this Gabe, if he were still here you could have sent him with the hens thus, stress free day for you! Hedda sounds like a piece of work.
The shipped cream topping looks good . . .
Since when does your mam darn socks? You are easily snookered.
She doesn’t but I knew there was no way she would go 😪
Looks like a brownie not a cheesecake. There's always one, huh Gabe.
Sometimes, 2.
Gabe. I have never heard of this. You amongst the hens? Lmao. I can’t even imagine what you were thinking but, hey you got a good story out of it. You crack me up!
There are hen parties in the U.K. too. Didn’t crack me up at the time.
Yes. I am from the UK and had one but No men attended. I know didn’t crack you up but your story did me. For you to go on your wife’s behalf is nothing short of um brace lol. Especially when it came to Hedda 😂
Brave. Sorry. Type is small.
What you mean type is small?
If I write a comment on my phone the type is small so easy to miss a spelling error.
Ok then that explains that
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