Dad's Wedding Diary 2

Life is filled with horrifying situations:  nine-car pileups on the interstate; learning that your cat is a rickets carrier; being a father who is trying to help his daughter plan a wedding.  Of the former, the latter is perhaps the most un-winable. 

Soon after my daughter's engagement, my wife and daughter conspired against me and began planning the wedding of the century.  Phone calls were made.  Letters were written.  Bills began to arrive in the mail.

Many of these bills were from people with names like "Cateland's Catering" and "Big Bill's Wild West Wedding Hoedown".  I stepped in and volunteered to be a part of the process, my primary purpose and aim directed at finding the most bang for the buck.  After all, I've written books.

I also made assumptions.

I don't want you speaking at the wedding," my daughter told me.  "You'll weep like an infant."

How did she know?  I set my sights on a higher purpose.  "Let me sing then," I said.  "Ava Maria.  Sunrise, Sunset.  Love, Love Me Do.  I know them all.  I can also do a rendition of several popular hip-hop gangsta raps, including *&%#**in*)&!%**."

"I don't think so," I was told.  I had become a foreigner in my own home.  I didn't even have enough clout to weigh in on the cup cake icing selections my daughter was considering.  I was getting indigestion from worry.

By the time my wife and daughter decided the wedding and reception would be outdoors (in a barn) I was too far out of the loop to be of any use.  I was losing weight.  And the only plus was that I could cinch my belt a notch tighter.

And a few days ago my wife reminded me:  "It's time we take a look at the reception menu.  We've got to make our selections."

Menus were proffered.  The catering services all sounded top-notch and came with star-filled recommendations and testimonials like:

My wedding was floundering and had no direction. But once I called Maude's Menus, she rescued me from a mountain of worry and shame.  Thank you, Maude!  (Ms. J.R. Buttwing, Fancygap, Wyoming)

I was on the brink of a divorce, and I wasn't even married yet . . . and then we hired Caligula's Catering.  They created the perfect Goth wedding for me and my boyfriend, Silvester.  The monkey brains were delicious.  (Ms. Venus Flytrap, Tart, Wisconsin)

Try Misty's Menus, she won't let you down.  She'll also pop out of your cake for an extra $50.00.  (Mr. Bill Yumpert, retired Army chaplain)

My parents were such tightwads and wouldn't shove a dime for cake and ice cream.  I wanted to shove them!  But Rupert's Ribs and Ice Cream Wagon was the perfect solution to an otherwise hum-drum reception and every one of my friends gained weight.  Lots of it. I'm now happily married and eating Deal-a-Meal like everyone else.  (Ms. Elvira Hogshead, Ratchet, Michigan)

We had to plan this affair ourselves . . . and quickly . . . after Misty began showing and the doctors said she would be giving birth in four weeks or less.  That's when we called Ted at Gumdrop City.  He created the perfect pickle and ice cream reception in the hospital lobby.  All the doctors commented. (Mr. & Mrs. Gill Quickie, Paradise, Illinois).

It's tough to choose.