Chaos in Life

Our daughter—the bride—lives in Colorado. We live in Illinois. Therefore, naturally, the wedding is in Michigan, three and half hours away. One wedding, three states, three time zones. The groom's family is from Michigan, albeit a mere two and half hours further down the road.

On Tuesday, my wife and the maid of honor drove to the groom's parents for their shower, leaving me with a long list of paraphernalia to bring, everything from the bread she baked for communion at the wedding, to bubbles to chase the bride and groom from the church, to place labels and table favors for the reception. On Wednesday, I drove up the hotel with our son for the wedding, carefully making sure that everything on her list got packed. Check. Leaving my checkbook on my desk at home. Check. Not her fault—I should have had my own list.

So I'm thinking, can I do this without a checkbook? The credit card will get me pretty far, and they do have ATMs in Michigan. I should be o.k., assuming I haven't forgotten any bills that I can't cover on the charge card. My wife suggests that I call my folks, ask if they can bring a couple of checks just in case, and provide an emergency line of credit. I do, getting my Mom, who is well aware of the forgetful streak in our family, and with great good humor, she agrees to provide a backstop. What a relief! [One of her standard lines: Alzheimer's isn't detectable in my family—“they were always like that.”]

This morning, we took off after breakfast to pick up the tuxes. The groom is there with his best man, who's decided to surprise the groom by hijacking him for the day (Tiger's game, casino, etc.). Chaos in his life too. We run a few errands, including checking with the florist, getting the key for the church, etc. While we're at the church, I notice that they only have a few purificators (linen cloths used to wipe the edge of the chalices during communion), and we don't want to short the host congregation. This starts a minor quest for purificators (not something you find at Meijer's), which ends when the nice woman at the Potter's Vessel (a Catholic Church Supply company—they're out) points us to a local fabric store, where we pick up the appropriate raw materials.

While we're at the fabric store, I get a call from Mom. They were delayed flying out of Cincinnati (fuel problems on the connecting flight), and ended up on another flight. Unlike their luggage. So they're at the airport (an hour and half away, naturally), hoping the luggage will be on the next flight in. Maybe they'll be in for dinner, maybe not. Not the first time the luggage has gone AWOL, they know the drill. They'll be o.k.

We get back to our hotel room, to find the bride and her maid of honor crashed out. So my wife is now in the lobby, putting seams in the purificators, and talking to her mother and sister. I'm here quietly blogging, hoping to amuse friends I've never met, while waiting to hear from my folks, and wondering where the next curveball is coming from.

But life is good, and people I love are gathering here to celebrate a new union.

Peace

Update: Their luggage arrived, mysteriously, on the carousel with luggage from a flight from Salt Lake City, and they made it up in time for a (slightly delayed) dinner. The wedding party is off at the bar, and my wife and I spent much of the rest of the evening with my folks, and one of my wife's friends, carefully creasing the place holders along the perforations, and tearing them apart. Good times.