OK, about the wedding weekend. What we had there was a failure to communicate. For example, on the night of the rehearsal dinner, all the grandchildren were sent to the bed and breakfast to eat pizza, but the woman who owned the B&B didn't know she was going to have seven children between the ages of 6 and 13 in her house. In a word, Yow.
Or the afternoon of the wedding when my cousin and his family came to our hotel to get changed in our room. Except we weren't expecting them.
Personally, I think whoever comes up with these schemes (and I'm dimly sensing the machinations of my maternal unit here) needs to hire a PR flunky. Because a few press releases would have really helped.
The rest of the event ran smoothly. But that wasn't really a surprise. After all, we've all been through this before.
You know you're getting cynical when you find yourself saying "My brother always gets married on Cape Cod." Because, sheesh, he's only been married twice. So I should just shut up and quit with the wisecracks.
But this is the second time I've seen my brother get married. And last August, I saw my sister get married for the second time.
So I'd like to make an announcement to my siblings. If you try it a third time, you're on your own.
Here's another thing you'll want to know. This morning, I ran into my brother in the parking lot of our hotel, and I actually had the nerve to ask him whether "the consummation devoutly to be wished" had actually taken place. Yes, I did. I wanted to make sure he was really married with no chance of an annulment.
You can relax. He is.