An entry of little substance… but I tried!

I wrote the title before the entry… but I’m pretty sure that the entry will live up to the title.

Dave and I drove alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the way up to the very tip-top of northern Minnesota this weekend for my cousin’s wedding.

The wedding was probably one of the most po-dunk, country weddings that I’ve ever been to… and I’ve been to a lot of country weddings. 🙂

It was quaint… in the same little church that her sister’s wedding was held in. I like that church. The church was packed. There were something like five bridesmaids and groomsmen… the wedding party was HUGE. I was technically part of the wedding party (though I’m not sure why as I’m not particularly close with this cousin) as the bridesmaid’s personal attendant (since when do bridesmaids need personal attendants, anyway?), though I didn’t fulfill much of any of my duties. I was unable to arrive until the day of the wedding (she didn’t  say that I was needed there anyway) and didn’t do much to help the bridesmaids anyway. They played twangy country music during the actual wedding itself after the bride and groom exchanged vows. The most awkward part of all came at the reception.  Everybody ate and had cake before the bridal party had even arrived (apparently my cousin wanted to have plenty of time to drink beforehand). When the bridal party finally arrived all of the veterans in the building were asked to stand up while another of my cousins sang "God Bless America" to them over a loudspeaker.

I mean, I get it.. but I don’t get it. Her husband is a veteran, having been to Iraq, but really? Really? It was kind of overdone, in my opinion.

I’ll shut up now. It really was a cute wedding, and my cousin looked beautiful. I’m really very happy for her and her new husband. They’ve been together for a long while and managed to stay together during his only deployment, which says a lot… as it seems that many of my friends and acquaintances both veterans and significant others of veterans have been unable to say as much themselves. Cheating seems to be pretty common among them all.

Jesus, I sound like a snob. I apologize.

On Sunday Dave and I detoured  for a few hours to his grandparent’s place, which was only a ten minute drive outside of the town where my cousin held her wedding. I’m really happy that they were around and that we stopped. I love his grandparents and was happy to actually see the setting to much of Dave’s childhood as I’ve heard so much about it over the course of our relationship.

It was great! I heard all about Dave’s grandpa Harry’s enormous garden (someday I will have one of my own, mark my words). They told us about their friends and their church and shared stories of Dave’s childhood. Dave’s grandma made us coffee and put out an assortment of cookies and zucchini bread that she’d frozen during the summer months after her husband’s zucchini harvest.

Sometimes I’m sure that I was born into the wrong era. I want Daves grandparents life. I love the city, but I miss the coziness of the country.  I miss being able to leave my doors unlocked and my keys in the ignition of my car. I miss being able to leave my car running at the grocery store when it’s below zero outside. And I really do think that I’d have made the perfect 50s housewife. I mean, really. And it’s too bad that Dave, as a modern kind of guy, doesn’t dig that kind of thing. Yes, I consider myself a feminist and yes, I hold many ideals that would clash with 50s but good god nothing would make me happier than to be a stay at home mother and cook and bake and clean and raise children. Seriously. There, I’ve said it.