OT Ping Nightmist

Michelle C wrote:
NightMist wrote:
"Polly Esther" wrote:
We are wondering if you survived the wedding.
Well I am home. We got back just before midnight last night.
[disaster story that was much more fun to read about than it would
have been to go through]
Pretty much everything that could wrong did.

She managed to avoid what happened at my parents' wedding, when my
mother's father decided to clear out a rogue beehive in the garden
on the morning of the event. The result was that everybody from
that side of the family was covered in red lumps for the ceremony.

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CD-ROMs and free stuff: Scottish music, food intolerance, and Mac logic fonts
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On Tue, 19 May 2009 16:05:07 -0500, NightMist wrote
(in article ):

On Mon, 18 May 2009 23:17:09 -0500, "Polly Esther"
wrote:

We are wondering if you survived the wedding. We are wondering if we need
to take up a collection to come bail you out of jail . . . or if you're
wandering around babbling and slobbering. I've been so anxious to hear
that
at least something went right. Please report in. Polly


Well I am home. We got back just before midnight last night.

The first thing I must report should serve as a warning to one and
all. Chuck out those stupid GPS thingies and buy a darned map!
T




Or yourself if you know where you're going. MSM had her GPS on when she
drove herself to Paducah. Having been there for years for the show she knew
where she was going. But GPS kept telling her she was wrong, so she listened
to GPS and got hopelessly lost.

And GPS had a devil of a time finding us a Walgreen's in Paducah. We never
thought it would be that difficult given that in Springfield it seems that
there is one on every other corner, with a CVS across the street.

Maureen

On May 19, 5:05*pm, (NightMist) wrote an epic
novel of love's ordeals...

Wow.

I spoze I'm a map person myself, but since '95 or so, we've taken to
getting routes/itineraries from any of the various trip websites. I
usually opt for 2 or 3 different ones just to compare and see if one
or another is more up-to-date with regard to hazards/construction/
detours, or suggets a better (for whatever reason) route. Then I
bring a map along anyway... stuff happens. I have relatives who swear
by AAA for the same thing, but I've never had a problem with those I
got for free online. The problem I have is with my "navigator" who
can't seem to follow a map to the bathroom... She once navigated us
(trying to follow a map) into the backwoods mountains of Pennsyltucky
where the only living thing we found to ask directions of was a rather
large black bear we missed running into by inches (and we always
thought deer were the worst road hazards...)

Yeah, by all means, write a book, or at least an article for
posterity. Is Reader's Digest still around?

Doc

On Tue, 19 May 2009 19:53:40 -0500, "Polly Esther"
wrote:

Also. When you are recovered, please tell us about being from the north and
the lycra garment you were persuaded to wear. What in the world? Polly


"What in the world?" was about my response too.
I can only guess that the manager fancied that yankee women do formal
events combat, that she is one of those elderly women who feel that
the younger generation doesn't wear enough foundation garments
particularly those of us in the north, or that she figured the bride
was young enough to talk into an extra $20 sale.

What the garment actually is called I am not at all sure. I was so
pounded I just took the tags off and put it on on Sunday. It looks
for all the world like a pair of spandex bicycle shorts with the only
seam being on the inside leg and having a reinforced crotch. It is
93% nylon and 7% spandex, so it is about the same fiber content as
bicycle shorts too. If the jazz pants I wore in dance class were
shorts they would be very nearly identical. Nothing like enough
support to be in the same class as any sort of girdle.

It wasn't uncomfortable, just felt a bit odd wearing something with
legs under a dress. My garter belt kept snagging on it, so I had to
rearrange things a bit so that I left off the belt and had the
stockings under the garment, trusting the spandex and the elastic at
the top of the hose to keep them up. Fortunately that worked just
fine, though I felt a bit insecure for the first few minutes.

NightMist
--

Legolas is my house elf

Well, the "spandex shorts" are called Spanx. Best invention since
sliced bread, imho!
Nightmist....i can sooooo sympathize with you. We had a GPS
misadventure at my neice's wedding
last November. I was even tempted to buy a Buick with OnStar just for
the friendly person telling me where
to turn next!! we got completely lost from the hotel to the church!
and it was only 2 miles apart.

I hope you feel better really soon. It's no fun being sick on any day,
let alone a special day like that.

amy in CNY

On Tue, 19 May 2009 19:48:43 -0500, "Polly Esther"
wrote:

That wedding makes me want to go get in the hall closet, sit down and pull
the door closed behind me. Wow. It should be required reading for every
bride who wants to have 'my' day. Mercy! Polly


The minute she was far enough down the aisle to see him and he could
look in her eyes, the rest of us might just as well have been in
Kansas City. Those two are dead gone on each other.

They both wanted a nice wedding, though he was willing to elope to
avoid the hassles with his family. Polish Catholic. I didn't realize
until I was told when I got there, that one of the reasons they were
able to keep the guest list down to a hundred is that half his family
wouldn't come because it wasn't a "proper" wedding. Our side was just
as bad really, though in a hyper-conservative protestant kind of way.
I guess getting the officiant in a package deal with the cake just
doesn't cut it with some people. Plus it was a woman, I think that
that is going to be a nine days wonder for some of the more
conservative elements that attended.(1)
Personally I think being married by a pastry chef is one of the most
honest moments I have witnessed in a long time.

NightMist
I bet deity likes pastry

(1) That lot is going to have a lot to talk about. A bridesmaid with
blue hair. Me with my nose ring. Then at the reception they were all
pulling up Mundi's skirt to gawk at the diamond toe ring her new DH
had given her.

--

Legolas is my house elf

Oh there is just so much to laugh at!
Even when I was feeling like my lungs were going to tumble out onto my
feet I could see that!

Though I really did feel for Papa's girlfriend. She really hated
being used in their ongoing pettiness as much as everybody else, and
was in a position to be made just that much more uncomfortable by it.

NightMist

On Tue, 19 May 2009 22:41:32 +0100, Patti
wrote:

Oh, I'm sorry Nightmist. I really did try not to splutter with
laughing; but I couldn't help myself. I really honestly hope that, one
day, you will also be able to read your archived copies of these wedding
e-mails and have a laugh yourself. It was mostly over the GPS; not the
continuing misfortunes that happened to the personalities' health. You
couldn't have invited such total, full scale disaster.

I do hope you are soon feeling properly better; that Ash is soon better;
and that the bride and groom have happy lives together.

You all deserve something good to happen now.

(By the way, you write a rattling good yarn g)
.
In message , NightMist
writes
Well I am home. We got back just before midnight last night.

The first thing I must report should serve as a warning to one and
all. Chuck out those stupid GPS thingies and buy a darned map!
The maid of honor was driving, a dear girl whom I adore. She was so
paranoid about getting lost, and so fearful of her inadequacies in map
reading, that she clung to the GPS directions as if they were graven
in stone. The GPS thing is STUPID though.
In a sane world to get to anyplace on the southern coast from western
NY, you either start out late and go the short route through the major
cities on the eastern seaboard, or you start out early and angle over
to about Winchester West Virginia, and then southeast to avoid those
cities. You do not start early and try to take the shorter mileage
route, or you will take twice as long in time as the longer route.
Starting early and following the GPS, we found ourselves stuck in
traffic on the thruway in the middle of Washington DC at rush hour on
a Friday. Some five hours later we were actually able to drive
without stopping for a whole ten miles or so, right about then we got
caught in the traffic caused by all the locals dragging their boats
and families to the beach for the weekend.

So we rolled into Manteo in the early hours of the morning Saturday.
This is when I discovered that Manteo is on Roanoke Island, a little
something they somehow neglected to mention, or I somehow missed, in
the webpages for the gardens or the reception hall. So I laid down
Rule 1 for DD3: Do not establish a colony while we are here!

On the way down, about halfway through Maryland, my sinuses started
giving me fits, and shortly after that, so did DD3's. We both had
sore throats and stuffed heads by the time we were checked in to the
otel. I'm not sure if we have a bug of some sort, or if we are very
allergic to something that blooms in the south in May.

So straight to bed and sleep like the dead, up at seven, and shortly
thereafter go out with DD2 in search of caffeine and a dress. We find
the outlet "mall", which is really naught but a shopping plaza. Upon
my advice (having no desire to spend or have spent upon me scads of
money for a dress I shall probably never wear again) we go to a place
called The Dress Barn. Rather than actually shopping, I go into seek
and find mode and zero in on the manager. "Hi!" *smile* "Wedding
tomorrow, Mother-of-the-Bride, sewing machine ate my dress, haven't
bought off the rack in years, HELP!" After explaining that there just
was no fixing the disaster caused by the demonically possessed machine
(points to the manager for jeopardizing a sale and asking!), she found
a half a dozen dresses, including a couple that she explained she
normally wouldn't have chosen for such an occasion but for that DD2
said to try to avoid black (apparently everything is going to be black
and white this summer, at least if you shop there.). I wound up with a
loose sleeveless black sheath that had a fake shrug gathered in front
with a clutch of rhinestones, in layered chiffon. While I was trying
on dresses, the manager asked DD2 "Y'all are from the north right?".
Upon receiving an affirmative reply she dashed off again and came back
with an undergarment, the likes of which I have never before seen. But
she convinced DD to buy it, and DD convinced me to wear it. All I will
say further on that subject is that I found myself wearing more lycra
than I have since I had to give up dance class.

While we were shopping DH phoned DD and explained that Ash still had a
temperature, so they were going to be staying home.

DD and DSIL decided that since the only time I had actually seen the
ocean was out of the window of a plane comining into Newark, that they
had to make time to take me to the beach for a minute. Apparently all
the water I had been seeing all day was part of the sound and didn't
count since you could see stuff on the other side of it. I found it a
bit odd. Being accustomed to the great lakes I expect big water to
have a smell to it, and it didn't.

After being warm and sunny all morning, it became overcast, and a bit
cool, and then got very drizzly. So by the time the rehearsal rolled
around, it was raining in fits and starts. I missed getting an
official garden umbrella, and wound up mostly doing without. Because
the lady in charge was new, and really didn't much know what she was
doing, it took a while and a lot of walking back back and forth and
around and about. Because of the rain they couldn't set anything up
to play the music so it wound up being more showing the paths to take,
and finding the tent to be used in case of rain, rather than an actual
rehearsal. The not-amicably divorced parents-in-law were both there.
Papa had brought his girlfriend to the rehearsal when not doing so was
going to be his promised concession, Mama was suitably irritated.
They both took it in turns to walk next to me with big smiles and
umbrellas, but when one came within 10 feet the other would run off,
and then the the approaching one would triumphantly hold their
umbrella over me. Seeing my half drenched state the DJ took pity upon
me and just flat out gave me his umbrella. I darn near asked that
fella for his phone number, because he gallantly invited me out for
pizza that night instead of leaving me in the position of having to
figure out how to turn down dinner invitations from both of them when
they started arguing over me.

By the time I got back to my room, the weather and all had taken their
toll. My stuffed head had progressed to a full on chest cold,
complete with fever, and hacking up gobs of goo. I put myself to bed
propped up on all the pillows so I wouldn't drown on snot in my sleep.

The actual day dawned warm and sunny.
I stayed in bed and kept warm, DD2 brought me a seriously strong
coffee (double americano if you speak coffee house), guaifenesin with
psuedoepninepherin tablets, monstrous huge multi-zinc pills, lots of
aspirin, and I didn't start getting ready until the last minute.
DD was going to paint my toenails until I pointed out that I was
wearing hose. Then she just turned me over to "The Hair Lady".
I approached her warily, Hair Ladies being Very Dangerous Creatures in
my experience. She just plopped me into a spinney chair and sprayed
my head with a lot of gunk and then ran some kind of a hot thing that
I think was called a "chi" through it, sort of a non-curling iron. No
idea what the point of it was, but it made everybody happy so I
tolerated it. All else she did was move my part over an inch and
spray more gunk on. She said she liked my hair so she was going leave
it down and loose. Best plan since you have to just about varnish it
in place if you want to do anything else with it.
So everyone was primped an polished and ready to leave, when DD3
sneezed. A simple sneeze should have been no problem, but her sinuses
had been just as miserable as mine and she wound up with a gusher of
blood. Her sister clamped a towel over the unfortunate girl's nose,
and I sent a bridesmaid running for ice. Then I loosened the death
grip DD2 had on her sister's head so poor Gabrielle could actually
breath. We got the bleeding stopped in a few minutes with her head
tipped back and ice on the back of her neck. Fortunately Hair Lady
had some regular peroxide in her bag and we got all the spots out of
everybody in short order, though we nearly had to wrestle one
bridesmaid to the ground when she wanted to go off in search of club
soda. We had peroxide to hand, we were afraid that if the girl went
off looking for club soda that she would get lost and phone home from
Albuquerque for bus fare. At that point Mundi would have made
Gabrielle spit on everybody rather than risk allowing anybody to go
haring off. Between the other bridesmaids, the bride, the Hair Lady,
and me, it should have taken several hours to redo poor Gabrielle's
make-up, fortunately Mundi realized this, assigned the Hair Lady the
task and kept everybody else occupied. So we were all actually only
about 20 minutes late getting to the gardens.

By the time we got to the gardens, the sky was dripping.
The groom, being a smart guy, had already moved everything to the
tent.
So when the downpour started at the same time as the processional
music everybody was undercover.
Getting to my place caused me to mentally write Rule #2: If ever there
is the slightest chance that you will be walking on sand, gravel, or
sand and gravel, do not wear 3 inch heels.
I did manage to navigate my way to my seat, leaning heavily on the
groomsman escorting me, shivering with fever, panting for breath, over
the sand and gravel path, in three inch heels, without even stumbling.
Though I did promise myself to lay in a stock of satin ballet slippers
for emergencies.
The ceremony went well.
I just told myself that maybe they do things differently on Long
Island when the mother of the groom stood before I did at the start,
when the first bridesmaid came into view rather that at the start of
the march. All his family is catholic, and I have never been to a
catholic wedding either, so maybe that is where that came from. Since
DH was not there, I even asked her to walk back alongside me behind
the proper wedding party.

Because of the downpour the formal pictures were done at the reception
hall. Of course I had to climb stairs to do it. By this time I was
drenched in freezing rain from the dash to the car from the wedding,
and from the car to the hall, running to the wrong door, and back
around to the right one. So with a case of the shivers and breathing
like a pirate (har, har, har, har) I tackled the stairs.
By this time I was coughing up half a lung at every expenditure of
effort, and I was starting to run out of lungs.
Donald noticed that I was shivering and told Mundi that any more
pictures including me should get done first because I was dying right
there. So they hurried the process up and I soon found myself huddled
in the best man's jacket on a relatively comfy settee. I skipped
eating because I felt it would be bad form to cough all over the
buffet line. There were many hockey jokes during the toasts. I got to
see the bride and groom dance, they actually went and took lessons and
practiced for it. And when the maid of honor went back to pack
Mundi's stuff and take it to the B&B they were spending the night at,
she took me back to my room where I could die quietly until morning.

We were on the road bright and early Monday morning.
The GPS was no smarter than it was on Friday, in fact it lost it's own
satellite when we were in the middle of deepest darkest pennsyltucky.
Fortunately that is where DH's family is from and I know my way home
from there. Though the lack of that glorified pocket calculator had
the maid of honor in state of perpetual panic until we got to a street
she knew.

It is now two doses of nyquil and a gallon of hot coffee later, I am
still in my warm leopard spotted flannel jammies, wrapped in a toastie
afghan, and no longer feeling inclined to raise the jolly roger when I
breath. Ash has been crawling on me to show me how nifty the
kaleidoscope full of lizards and flowers I got at the Elizabethan
gardens for him is. I have to go forth tomorrow to do battle with the
school board on our young man's behalf.
Normality returns.

NightMist


--
Best Regards
pat on the hill

--

Legolas is my house elf

I'll second that thought! Such an experience and you captured it so
well (at the very least keep a copy of your wedding emails!)
Allison

teleflora wrote:
Please consider writing a book, 'kay?

Cindy


"NightMist" wrote in message
...
On Mon, 18 May 2009 23:17:09 -0500, "Polly Esther"
wrote:

We are wondering if you survived the wedding. We are wondering if we need
to take up a collection to come bail you out of jail . . . or if you're
wandering around babbling and slobbering. I've been so anxious to hear
that
at least something went right. Please report in. Polly


Well I am home. We got back just before midnight last night.

The first thing I must report should serve as a warning to one and
all. Chuck out those stupid GPS thingies and buy a darned map!
The maid of honor was driving, a dear girl whom I adore. She was so
paranoid about getting lost, and so fearful of her inadequacies in map
reading, that she clung to the GPS directions as if they were graven
in stone. The GPS thing is STUPID though.
In a sane world to get to anyplace on the southern coast from western
NY, you either start out late and go the short route through the major
cities on the eastern seaboard, or you start out early and angle over
to about Winchester West Virginia, and then southeast to avoid those
cities. You do not start early and try to take the shorter mileage
route, or you will take twice as long in time as the longer route.
Starting early and following the GPS, we found ourselves stuck in
traffic on the thruway in the middle of Washington DC at rush hour on
a Friday. Some five hours later we were actually able to drive
without stopping for a whole ten miles or so, right about then we got
caught in the traffic caused by all the locals dragging their boats
and families to the beach for the weekend.

So we rolled into Manteo in the early hours of the morning Saturday.
This is when I discovered that Manteo is on Roanoke Island, a little
something they somehow neglected to mention, or I somehow missed, in
the webpages for the gardens or the reception hall. So I laid down
Rule 1 for DD3: Do not establish a colony while we are here!

On the way down, about halfway through Maryland, my sinuses started
giving me fits, and shortly after that, so did DD3's. We both had
sore throats and stuffed heads by the time we were checked in to the
otel. I'm not sure if we have a bug of some sort, or if we are very
allergic to something that blooms in the south in May.

So straight to bed and sleep like the dead, up at seven, and shortly
thereafter go out with DD2 in search of caffeine and a dress. We find
the outlet "mall", which is really naught but a shopping plaza. Upon
my advice (having no desire to spend or have spent upon me scads of
money for a dress I shall probably never wear again) we go to a place
called The Dress Barn. Rather than actually shopping, I go into seek
and find mode and zero in on the manager. "Hi!" *smile* "Wedding
tomorrow, Mother-of-the-Bride, sewing machine ate my dress, haven't
bought off the rack in years, HELP!" After explaining that there just
was no fixing the disaster caused by the demonically possessed machine
(points to the manager for jeopardizing a sale and asking!), she found
a half a dozen dresses, including a couple that she explained she
normally wouldn't have chosen for such an occasion but for that DD2
said to try to avoid black (apparently everything is going to be black
and white this summer, at least if you shop there.). I wound up with a
loose sleeveless black sheath that had a fake shrug gathered in front
with a clutch of rhinestones, in layered chiffon. While I was trying
on dresses, the manager asked DD2 "Y'all are from the north right?".
Upon receiving an affirmative reply she dashed off again and came back
with an undergarment, the likes of which I have never before seen. But
she convinced DD to buy it, and DD convinced me to wear it. All I will
say further on that subject is that I found myself wearing more lycra
than I have since I had to give up dance class.

While we were shopping DH phoned DD and explained that Ash still had a
temperature, so they were going to be staying home.

DD and DSIL decided that since the only time I had actually seen the
ocean was out of the window of a plane comining into Newark, that they
had to make time to take me to the beach for a minute. Apparently all
the water I had been seeing all day was part of the sound and didn't
count since you could see stuff on the other side of it. I found it a
bit odd. Being accustomed to the great lakes I expect big water to
have a smell to it, and it didn't.

After being warm and sunny all morning, it became overcast, and a bit
cool, and then got very drizzly. So by the time the rehearsal rolled
around, it was raining in fits and starts. I missed getting an
official garden umbrella, and wound up mostly doing without. Because
the lady in charge was new, and really didn't much know what she was
doing, it took a while and a lot of walking back back and forth and
around and about. Because of the rain they couldn't set anything up
to play the music so it wound up being more showing the paths to take,
and finding the tent to be used in case of rain, rather than an actual
rehearsal. The not-amicably divorced parents-in-law were both there.
Papa had brought his girlfriend to the rehearsal when not doing so was
going to be his promised concession, Mama was suitably irritated.
They both took it in turns to walk next to me with big smiles and
umbrellas, but when one came within 10 feet the other would run off,
and then the the approaching one would triumphantly hold their
umbrella over me. Seeing my half drenched state the DJ took pity upon
me and just flat out gave me his umbrella. I darn near asked that
fella for his phone number, because he gallantly invited me out for
pizza that night instead of leaving me in the position of having to
figure out how to turn down dinner invitations from both of them when
they started arguing over me.

By the time I got back to my room, the weather and all had taken their
toll. My stuffed head had progressed to a full on chest cold,
complete with fever, and hacking up gobs of goo. I put myself to bed
propped up on all the pillows so I wouldn't drown on snot in my sleep.

The actual day dawned warm and sunny.
I stayed in bed and kept warm, DD2 brought me a seriously strong
coffee (double americano if you speak coffee house), guaifenesin with
psuedoepninepherin tablets, monstrous huge multi-zinc pills, lots of
aspirin, and I didn't start getting ready until the last minute.
DD was going to paint my toenails until I pointed out that I was
wearing hose. Then she just turned me over to "The Hair Lady".
I approached her warily, Hair Ladies being Very Dangerous Creatures in
my experience. She just plopped me into a spinney chair and sprayed
my head with a lot of gunk and then ran some kind of a hot thing that
I think was called a "chi" through it, sort of a non-curling iron. No
idea what the point of it was, but it made everybody happy so I
tolerated it. All else she did was move my part over an inch and
spray more gunk on. She said she liked my hair so she was going leave
it down and loose. Best plan since you have to just about varnish it
in place if you want to do anything else with it.
So everyone was primped an polished and ready to leave, when DD3
sneezed. A simple sneeze should have been no problem, but her sinuses
had been just as miserable as mine and she wound up with a gusher of
blood. Her sister clamped a towel over the unfortunate girl's nose,
and I sent a bridesmaid running for ice. Then I loosened the death
grip DD2 had on her sister's head so poor Gabrielle could actually
breath. We got the bleeding stopped in a few minutes with her head
tipped back and ice on the back of her neck. Fortunately Hair Lady
had some regular peroxide in her bag and we got all the spots out of
everybody in short order, though we nearly had to wrestle one
bridesmaid to the ground when she wanted to go off in search of club
soda. We had peroxide to hand, we were afraid that if the girl went
off looking for club soda that she would get lost and phone home from
Albuquerque for bus fare. At that point Mundi would have made
Gabrielle spit on everybody rather than risk allowing anybody to go
haring off. Between the other bridesmaids, the bride, the Hair Lady,
and me, it should have taken several hours to redo poor Gabrielle's
make-up, fortunately Mundi realized this, assigned the Hair Lady the
task and kept everybody else occupied. So we were all actually only
about 20 minutes late getting to the gardens.

By the time we got to the gardens, the sky was dripping.
The groom, being a smart guy, had already moved everything to the
tent.
So when the downpour started at the same time as the processional
music everybody was undercover.
Getting to my place caused me to mentally write Rule #2: If ever there
is the slightest chance that you will be walking on sand, gravel, or
sand and gravel, do not wear 3 inch heels.
I did manage to navigate my way to my seat, leaning heavily on the
groomsman escorting me, shivering with fever, panting for breath, over
the sand and gravel path, in three inch heels, without even stumbling.
Though I did promise myself to lay in a stock of satin ballet slippers
for emergencies.
The ceremony went well.
I just told myself that maybe they do things differently on Long
Island when the mother of the groom stood before I did at the start,
when the first bridesmaid came into view rather that at the start of
the march. All his family is catholic, and I have never been to a
catholic wedding either, so maybe that is where that came from. Since
DH was not there, I even asked her to walk back alongside me behind
the proper wedding party.

Because of the downpour the formal pictures were done at the reception
hall. Of course I had to climb stairs to do it. By this time I was
drenched in freezing rain from the dash to the car from the wedding,
and from the car to the hall, running to the wrong door, and back
around to the right one. So with a case of the shivers and breathing
like a pirate (har, har, har, har) I tackled the stairs.
By this time I was coughing up half a lung at every expenditure of
effort, and I was starting to run out of lungs.
Donald noticed that I was shivering and told Mundi that any more
pictures including me should get done first because I was dying right
there. So they hurried the process up and I soon found myself huddled
in the best man's jacket on a relatively comfy settee. I skipped
eating because I felt it would be bad form to cough all over the
buffet line. There were many hockey jokes during the toasts. I got to
see the bride and groom dance, they actually went and took lessons and
practiced for it. And when the maid of honor went back to pack
Mundi's stuff and take it to the B&B they were spending the night at,
she took me back to my room where I could die quietly until morning.

We were on the road bright and early Monday morning.
The GPS was no smarter than it was on Friday, in fact it lost it's own
satellite when we were in the middle of deepest darkest pennsyltucky.
Fortunately that is where DH's family is from and I know my way home
from there. Though the lack of that glorified pocket calculator had
the maid of honor in state of perpetual panic until we got to a street
she knew.

It is now two doses of nyquil and a gallon of hot coffee later, I am
still in my warm leopard spotted flannel jammies, wrapped in a toastie
afghan, and no longer feeling inclined to raise the jolly roger when I
breath. Ash has been crawling on me to show me how nifty the
kaleidoscope full of lizards and flowers I got at the Elizabethan
gardens for him is. I have to go forth tomorrow to do battle with the
school board on our young man's behalf.
Normality returns.

NightMist

--

Legolas is my house elf

Now see, if you use a word processer so you can spell check because
your brain is full of sand and cotton and squirrel poo, you are likely
going to come off looking even dimmer than you feel.

I hope I fixed it so it at least makes sense now.

NightMist


On Wed, 20 May 2009 15:58:34 GMT, (NightMist)
wrote:

On Tue, 19 May 2009 19:53:40 -0500, "Polly Esther"
wrote:

Also. When you are recovered, please tell us about being from the north and
the lycra garment you were persuaded to wear. What in the world? Polly


"What in the world?" was about my response too.
I can only guess that the manager fancied that yankee women do formal
events commando, that she is one of those elderly women who feel that
the younger generation doesn't wear enough foundation garments
particularly those of us in the north, or that she figured the bride
was young enough to talk into an extra $20 sale.

What the garment actually is called I am not at all sure. I was so
pounded I just took the tags off and put it on on Sunday. It looks
for all the world like a pair of spandex bicycle shorts with the only
seam being on the inside leg and having a reinforced crotch. It is
93% nylon and 7% spandex, so it is about the same fiber content as
bicycle shorts too. If the jazz pants I wore in dance class were
shorts they would be very nearly identical. Nothing like enough
support to be in the same class as any sort of girdle.

It wasn't uncomfortable, just felt a bit odd wearing something with
legs under a dress. My garter belt kept snagging on it, so I had to
rearrange things a bit so that I left off the belt and had the
stockings under the garment, trusting the spandex and the elastic at
the top of the hose to keep them up. Fortunately that worked just
fine, though I felt a bit insecure for the first few minutes.

NightMist
--

Legolas is my house elf

--

Legolas is my house elf

Hahahah. I bought one of those at the Dress Barn outlet store last week too!

And you're right. My very proper Southern grandmother could never get over
the fact that her "northern" granddaughters did not wear proper foundation
garments.

It's a Southern thing.

Cindy


"NightMist" wrote in message
...
On Tue, 19 May 2009 19:53:40 -0500, "Polly Esther"
wrote:

Also. When you are recovered, please tell us about being from the north
and
the lycra garment you were persuaded to wear. What in the world? Polly


"What in the world?" was about my response too.
I can only guess that the manager fancied that yankee women do formal
events combat, that she is one of those elderly women who feel that
the younger generation doesn't wear enough foundation garments
particularly those of us in the north, or that she figured the bride
was young enough to talk into an extra $20 sale.

What the garment actually is called I am not at all sure. I was so
pounded I just took the tags off and put it on on Sunday. It looks
for all the world like a pair of spandex bicycle shorts with the only
seam being on the inside leg and having a reinforced crotch. It is
93% nylon and 7% spandex, so it is about the same fiber content as
bicycle shorts too. If the jazz pants I wore in dance class were
shorts they would be very nearly identical. Nothing like enough
support to be in the same class as any sort of girdle.

It wasn't uncomfortable, just felt a bit odd wearing something with
legs under a dress. My garter belt kept snagging on it, so I had to
rearrange things a bit so that I left off the belt and had the
stockings under the garment, trusting the spandex and the elastic at
the top of the hose to keep them up. Fortunately that worked just
fine, though I felt a bit insecure for the first few minutes.

NightMist
--

Legolas is my house elf