We had an auxiliary father-daughter dinner last night. We† needed to be sure my iPod would jack into Dad's stereo and the sound would be good for dining and dancing at the wedding.
The wedding on Saturday.
[SUMMARY: A moment of stunned silence, please.‡]
Even as I type this, I'm aware the full impact of what I am about to impart will be lost. Y'all don't really know my dad.
This is a man who doesn't own a tie.§
This is a man who won't wear clothes with words or wild prints¶ on them.
This is a man who thinks big, fancy anything is worth nothing more than a headshake.
This is a man who has no idea where his cell phone is. Almost ever.
This is a man of even temper, good cheer, relaxed attitude, low maintenance, low overhead, relentless good sense and an inherent Protestant work ethic.
So when he turned into Groomzilla, nobody was more surprised than me.
Last night:
Dad: So I got the kids -- being flowers -- taken care of and then I was going to set up the speakers...
Me: When you started that sentence, I heard, "I got the kids, whom I decided to dress like flowers to perform some sort of elementary-school-musical-program at the wedding."
Dad: I wanted to do that. I got vetoed.
[SUMMARY: More stunned! More silence!]
And it's true. A month ago, he told me he wanted to have all the grandchildren gather and sing "We Wish You a Happy Wedding"# at the ceremony.
While various evil stepsisters have been true to form, telling their mother how tacky and passé all her wedding wants†† are, I have to tip my hat to whichever one of them undoubtedly gave my father that you've-been-smoking-crack look and said, "No. There will be no children's chorale."
[SUMMARY: W.C. Fields wasn't blowing smoke. Dogs and children; don't do it.]
Anyway, there will be a skit, but it will be performed by the bride and groom.
Not kidding.
Songs that didn't make it to the wedding playlist:
Flight of the Valkyries - Wagner‡‡
Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division
Another One Bites the Dust - Queen
Achy Breaky Heart - whoever does Achy Breaky Heart§§
Bolero - Ravel¶¶
She Works Hard for the Money - Donna Summer
The Breakup Song - The Greg Kihn Band
Existential Blues - Tom "T-Bone" Stankus
Danse Macabre - Saint-Saëns
Tom Sawyer - Rush
Gin & Juice - Snoop Dogg, or even the Phish## version
At one time, I considered them all. Cooler heads††† prevailed.
*************
No. 5: Illicit Sex - JEREMY SCOTT [sic] & Philippe Roques (Part 5 in the series)
Marin says: Rose -- deep, woody rose with a definite float of bitter orange and a touch of aldehyde.
For me, this is strongly reminiscent of Chanel No. 5, but with a hair less aldehyde and a bit more rose and a skosh of orange. There's something brilliant about the way it captures that memory of Mom and Dad going out for the evening in a cloud of Chanel, while going just far enough into a contemporary space that I could inhabit happily.
Eventually, it parses down to a clear rose, travelling back into history and faded beauty.
The name, Illicit Sex,‡‡‡ doesn't quite meet up with either the scent itself or the perfumer's notes on fragility and strength in love. Do you suppose they really, really hope sex sells?
Six Scents says: ""Illicit Sex is an essay on love: the encounter of fragility and strength." - Philippe Roques, Perfumer
Ingredients: Bergamot,$ Aldehydic,$ Pepper, Nutmet, Rose,$ Benzoin, Olibanum, Cedarwood,$ Musk.
Hans says: Hmmm. It's pretty light. It smells like... I get some incense.§§§ Like Arabian market.¶¶¶ You smell like an Arabian market, Marin. Good morning.###
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And by "we," I mean, "my father, who has somehow become convinced that I am a technological dummy who will populate his wedding reception with death metal and pimps-n-hos rap music."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not that we didn't know it was coming, just... still a little stunned.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): A fact that led to a wedding battle over whether or not he should have to go out and buy a tie for this one tiny occasion when a bolo tie should work just as well. For those of you scoring at home, he won that one.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Like stripes.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Y'know... to the tune of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas."
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Balloons. She loves balloons and wanted some, until Evil Stepsister told her it was tacky and totally 1980s. I say let the woman have her balloons. Who cares if it's tacky -- the guest list is comprised of her children and grandchildren and Dad's children and grandchildren. If ever there was a situation when one could get tacky without repercussion, this is it.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I have four musical divisions: Taps for the processional (I'm not kidding and it wasn't my idea -- this is all the groom), an hour of classical music for dinner, The Rose for the first dance, two hours of dance music for the reception. Under the heading "classical music," it appears my taste is unsurprisingly gothic, with lots of skeletons and sturm-und-drang. I'm guessing "O Fortuna" isn't a good idea. I have to go get some Handel and Vivaldi or everyone will lose their appetites.
§§FOOTNOTE (do-si-do): Peach wanted me to put in some country music suitable for line dancing. For my country cousins. I told Dad I figured they can dance the Electric Slide with everybody else if they feel a need to line dance. I am NOT BUYING Achy Breaky Heart. Yes, there will be Electric Slide. Possibly Chicken Dance too, because I think those are funny wedding traditions I am willing to follow for my own wicked glee.
¶¶FOOTNOTE (beat that... drum): I saw 10.
##FOOTNOTE (I will pound on this until you get it): Please to pronounce "P-hish."
†††FOOTNOTE (three stepsisters, all in a row): Or at least my Inner Evil Stepsister.
‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (sex on the wrong side of the tracks): Illicit sex should be rumpled, sweaty, hurried, shameful, furtive, seedy, possibly up against the stall wall in a club restroom. There should be nothing fragile or strong about it, unless you count the leg muscles it takes to have sex in a bathroom stall. Essay on love, my ass. Though that may be another way to do illicit...
$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): Well, look at me!
§§§FOOTNOTE (give that man three rounds of applause!): Hans is getting really good at this. Speaking of Hans, he's very disappointed nobody commented on his prom picture. I told him I figure out there was a shocked silence as everybody in his fan club said, "I didn't know Hans was gay." His girlfriend thinks that's really funny.
¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (camels in the desert): And Hans knows of which he speaks -- he lived in Saudi for many years.
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