it’s for the wedding

by badmammy

We’re cleaning. Not just cleaning, but CLEANING!! “For the wedding”, we laugh & say. The phrase is an inside joke left over from a friend’s marriage ages ago, when she went crazy “for the wedding”. We say it to justify any expense, purchase or extra effort, we’re doing it “for the wedding”. I bought myself a Flip camera off of the innanet. When it came, I explained to Big Daddy that it was “for the wedding”. What could he say? It is “for the wedding”.

Now that we are actually having a wedding at our home on New Year’s Eve, “for the wedding” has taken on extra weight & expanded meaning. This is a good example of how things in my world work themselves out. We got new windows. WE GOT NEW WINDOWS! I could shout my happiness from the rooftops. I knew we needed them but . . . . (this all turns into another great story).

Anyway, the removal of the old & installation of the NEW ones required us moving & removing everything around said windows. No small task. Inside & out. The fabulous new windows were installed & oh, how I could go on & on about that . . . . Damn, I love them.

Anyway, all of these items must be washed & returned to their roosts on windowsills. Glass bottles, hanging prisms & sun catchers. Again, no small task. Must be done by hand.  Then, BD gets it into his head that he might as well paint the kitchen. This idea comes to him after he decides to hang his glass cutting board from the MOMA in NEW YORK CITY, “for the wedding”. He is puzzling about where to hang it when I happen by & see him holding it in front of my wacky post card collection over the sink. The postcards are held in place by various thumb tacks & on each tack hangs at least 2 wishbones from years of turkeys that have paraded through the kitchen. I offer a lame willingness to move my cards & bones & he jumps on it like a tick on a hound. I hear the glee in his voice. He was supposed to say no, honey, I love them. I weakly tell myself it’s time to move on. His tastes & my tastes differ &, after all, he has lived here for over 13 years now. The curling, browning postcards are covered with layers of soap suds & splashes. What should I do with my wishbones? Throw them away, he shouts triumphantly. And I do, but I keep the postcards.

Anyway, this leaves bullet holes from all the thumbtacks over the years & the greasy outlines of the cards looking at us. Can’t hang the cutting board on that. We look at each other, “it’s for the wedding”. We head off to Lowe’s, returning with cans of paint, hole plugging putty, brushes & new toilet seats!! It’s for the wedding.

Anyway, this is all stuff that badly needs doing. Stuff off of the “list”. You know the one. So, this whole cleaning, cleansing frenzy is a good thing. It is an opportunity. Each project flows out of the other. We’re up off our butts. All of our projects require tearing up the whole house, vaccuming a half inch of dirt off of everything in sight, from the ceiling to the floor. Heaping stuff from one room to another. Always shifting. We’re living in an obstacle course. Then, one area of the house does seem to slowly morph into cleanliness. I have even dug lots of  long sleeve shirts that don’t fit out of the closet & taken them to Healthcare for the Homeless.  Not that the wedding impacts my closet but it is in keeping with my desire for forward motion in my life & shedding things I have clung to for too long. Stuff I don’t need. Stuff that accumulates around me, I don’t seek it out. Letting go, another long story for another day.

Anyway, we’re having way too much fun shouting out “it’s for the wedding”  every time the new bride to be calls & asks what we’re doing.

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