Thank Gawd It's Over

September 19-23 had to be some of the most stressful days of my entire life. We spent those days in Texas (AKA Hell), where our daughter, Jena, got married.

Just a few thoughts regarding that experience:

1. I still hate Texas. It's hot, it's humid, the refineries stink up the air so badly that you wish you'd been born without the ability to smell and I (once again) almost got carried off by the state bird, the mosquito. I loved seeing Kenin's family, but I really wish they'd move.

2. To the woman (my Momma taught me at the age of 6 that there is a real difference between a lady and a woman) who attempted to cut in front of me at the Southwest Airlines gate in Denver: What the hell were you thinking? Did you think that although I arrived at the gate over an hour before you did that I'd willingly let you cut in front of me so that you could get a seat closer to the front of the plane? I got there early for a reason, and yes, I purposely blocked you when you attempted to get in front of me because I'm bitchy like that. Next time you want a good seat, get your ass up at 3 am and quit trying to cut in line like a 5 year old. <ding> You are now free to move about the country.

3. I have no problem with prayer. I totally expected it. Not only was it a wedding, but one performed by a Baptist minister. So, no big deal, I knew it was coming. But one thing I noticed was that every third word was "God". It went something like this: God, thank you, God, for this wonderful day. God, this young couple is here to celebrate you, God. We ask, God, that you bless their marriage. God, please blah, blah, blah, you get the idea. I was just wondering why he kept saying "God" so much. Did he think that someone was going to lose his or her religion and let loose with a "Praise you, Satan!" or something? Strange stuff, but whatever. Maybe it's just Baptists. I don't remember if they're all like that or not because I've done my best to block out the Sundays I had to spend at the Rockmart Baptist Church while I was in The Nuthouse. There weren't any Satanists there, anyway. At least that I know of.

4. It's really a small world out there. On the way back to Denver from Hell, the man and the woman in the seats in front of me (who were unknown to each other prior to the plan ride - I know because I listened in) lived in the same towns as me - in South Carolina. Currently, he and I live in Denver, she lives in Aspen. He and she lived in Charleston, SC, as children. I lived there for a while, and Hunter was born in Charleston. He (the man, not Hunter) grew up in Myrtle Beach, SC, and Kenin and I lived there when we were first married. He and she (and her hubby) are considering moving to Texas. This is where the coolness ends because, as you are well aware, I hate Texas.

So, I'm now a mother-in-law. But that's a whole 'nother topic...