Recipe for a good wedding: Tri-tip and beer

Despite the minor mishap of making a small rip in my Apple Red Organza Tea-Length skirt while standing to give a toast, my brother’s wedding went very well. Two great things came out of this weekend (besides the new life my brother and his wife will share together, blah blah blah):

1. My mother now has one married child. That (usually) means said child is closer to having his own children than his unmarried younger sister. Perhaps now my mother will pin her hopes (and put her pressure) for a grandchild on her new daughter-in-law, instead of on her oldest daughter who can barely keep a plant alive.

2. My brother’s wedding reception was in the backyard of my parents’ house. For years my parents have been encouraging me to get married in the backyard because it is free, and for years I fought them on this point (funny that my brother had never been pressured, since we assumed he’d never get married, but actually took them up on the offer). The yard looked quite beautiful, with flowers in bloom, paper stars hanging from the mulberry tree, and Christmas lights twinkling on the fence. However, it was a hell of a lot of work to get the yard and the house ready for dinner for 75 people. My moment of triumph came a few minutes before the ceremony when my father said to me, “Promise me you’ll never get married at our house. It’s too much f*$%ing work.”