Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

The party was held in the very hotel where the Bookworm and the Martial Artist had first hit it off, two New Year's Eves ago.

Their eyes met across a crowded room. Love ensued.

Now, as her name attests, the Bookworm is rather shy. When she first announced the engagement — I think it was last September — she confessed that she didn't like being the center of attention and didn't want a huge wedding. Yet, she wanted to celebrate the happy event with her friends.

That's when some wise soul amongst the women in our group suggested she could, indeed, have it both ways. She could have a small wedding for just family and then hold a party for their friends at a separate time and place.

The Bookworm loved this idea, so they held their small family wedding on Friday and the larger party on Saturday in an area hotel. This also gave them a chance, they said, to wear their fancy wedding duds more than once.

She had two dresses she changed into over the course of the celebration. One was the original wedding dress she'd bought for the ceremony. She changed into this one later, just to show us. The second dress was what she wore most of the night, and it was a bit less constricting and more comfortable. Over this one, she wore a beautiful blue velvety wrap.

Both dresses looked antique and demure, very in keeping with her personality.

The Martial Artist was dressed to the nines, with a vest and matching tie in silver brocade. They made a great looking couple.

The party started out with socializing as people gathered, and the Bookworm introduced some of her friends whom the rest of us had not met before. I had a very nice conversation with her brother, who is an EMT. I, as a former journalist, had come in contact with members of various emergency services over the years. We talked about how those two professions intersect and the sorts of behind the scenes stories that never make it into the newspaper.

On various tables, the newlyweds had left disposable cameras, so people were dashing about taking pictures all night. Hopefully, they'll eventually let us see them all and possibly request copies.

I played a couple rounds of Boggle and got royally spanked by several Boggle veterans. They kicked me up and down and all around. I found it amusing that the only two words I got points for in the first round were "Zen" and "tit" (the bird, silly). That, to me, said it all.

I suggested we could find out interesting things about people by looking at the sorts of words they came up with. This idea occurred to me when both Cousin Sue and I came up with was "fop" as our first word.

Then the buffet was served: red meat for the meat eaters, salad, wild rice, broccoli and chicken for the health conscious. I think they also whipped up a vegetarian meal for one person who requested it. Dessert was cheesecake.

I was quite proud of myself because I stuck to my new rule for buffets: take a small amount of each thing I want to try, larger portions being allowed for vegetables, and only go up once. I managed to stick to this rule, despite the cheesecake calling.

We each got a free drink at the bar, which was then a cash bar for the rest of the night. I ordered a rum and Diet Coke, to the amusement of a friend whom I'll nickname the Warrior Princess. She thought it was silly to order a rum and Diet Coke, because most of the calories come from the alcohol. I said yes, but at least I didn't get the calories from the regular soda on top of that.

Back at the table, she and I had a conversation about the pink, sparkly gel candles, one of which went out after one friend was seen staring at it. I accused him of putting it out by staring at it and warned him not to look at the other candles.

The Warrior Princess saw no need for any pink, sparkly candles. But then she is, by her own admission, about as much of a girly-girl as Xena, hence the nickname. Then again, she might not like the word "Princess" and will request I call her simply the Warrior. We shall see, after she reads this.

After everyone had gnoshed on the buffet for awhile, it was dance time, baby! A group of us hit the dance floor and pulled out all the stops. A lot of people had brought CDs they thought would be good for a party. We picked and choosed song by song, playing mostly '80s hits we enjoyed dancing to.

We were mostly women, with occasionally a husband or boyfriend joining us. I give props, especially, to Cousin Sue's fez-wearing hubby, who danced out to "Rock Lobster" and actually got down all the way on the floor during the quiet part. I got down on the floor, too, and I think he even did the worm before we slowly swam back up to the surface. Lobsters, we.

When it was just us women, we played "Sisters Are Doing it For Themselves" and "Love is a Battlefield" and strutted, Pat Benetar fashion, around the stage, pumping our fists in the air. We did outrageous dances, egged each other on, shouted comments over the music and collapsed in laughter.

When we played "Safety Dance," as one voice, we shouted out, "Your friends don't dance and if they don't dance then they're no friends of mine," directed at the rest of the room.

I challenged the biggest, tallest guy to a dance off, which he declined. Nevertheless, I did a wacky dance and then told him that he'd been served.

Despite my wackiness on the dance floor, I only had two drinks over the course of the evening. My on-stage weirdness was brought on by the sheer joy of being with this group of friends once more. We should have parties like that more often.

Occasionally, I'd try to entice people onto the dance floor. It didn't work very well. I did a James Brown imitation to "Super Bad," realizing as I did that his shuffling, funky dance steps really work out your calf muscles. "I'm James Brown. I got super calves," I sang.

There's a photo of me dancing on a chair. I'm sure I'll regret that later.

As "You Wanna Be Starting Something" started, I said to the Dormouse, "What's the greatest lyric in the entire world? I'll point to you when it comes up." He was waiting, no doubt wondering what this great lyric was, and finally, near the end, "Ma ma se, ma ma sa, ma ma coo sa," and I pointed at him. He laughed.

At the end of the evening, they gave out door prizes, which were either books or CDs they were getting rid of, since between the two of them they now had two copies, or the mysterious quantity known as "the box." Something like eight gifts were in the box, and as it turned out all but three were "blinky things," otherwise known as "look at me lights," the magnetic blinky buttons sorority girls often wear in bars. There was also a bottle of mead, an ostrich egg, and a bottle of Shiraz wine the Gryphon won.

I tried to take a picture of one friend wearing a blinky thing. "Flash me!" I joked. "OK, that didn't come out right..."

If the rest of their marriage is as fun as their celebratory party, the newlyweds are off to a great start.

Copyright 2004 by Alyce Wilson

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