Eyewitness Report: Redneck Wedding

In 2006, our Trailer Park family got to experience one of those magical adventures known as ‘The Wedding’.  DQ and BJ tied the knot in a hoedown to end all  marital hoedowns.  Striking just the right balance between “glamour” and “comfort”, they pulled together a wedding in their own style – and worked hard to keep costs down, doing much of the legwork on their own. 

The bridesmaids gowns were made from about a thousand yards* of brown satin.  They wore matching sequined flip flop sandals.  Brown.  “Why Brown?” you ask?  Well, that was the only color that could be coordinated with the “Mossy Oak” tuxedo vests. 

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Since i was meeting The Girl halfway around the world, i was unable to attend.  But, thanks to the wonders of technology, my sister, T, was able to give me an electronic summary while i lounged poolside at a 4-star hotel in Bangkok.  Here, gently modified to protect me from the innocent, is her “Scores and Highlights” from the reception.  It was held in a “party barn” and was a “bring your own booze” event…
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Plowed…

During the past two days, i’ve spent hours with a shovel, doing battle with the elements.  i have absolutely no idea why it is so important that i excavate my driveway – which is roughly the size of a basketball court.  Some degree of “fear of entrapment”, combined with my sense of homeowner responsibility.  Perhaps just a touch of “i don’t want to be skating on ice nuggets for the rest of the week when i walk out to get the mail” thrown in for good measure.

Yesterday, i managed to clear about 4″ of the heavy, wet stuff in just about an hour.  This morning, there was an additional foot of snow on the ground, so i bundled up and chipped away at it.  An hour and a half later, i’d made it a third of the way towards the as yet unplowed street.  Having no feeling left in my nose, it was time to regroup.

Midday, i finished round two – another 90 minutes of “woman against nature”.  First, i removed the extra 3″ that had fallen onto the previously cleared section, and then tackled the untouched portion – drifting to 2′ in spots.   i’d made it past mid-court, with about a third of the driveway left to go.   Regrouped yet again as i couldn’t feel my right hand…

i just finished round three – still not quite there, but only a few feet to go.  This time, i’m just worn out.  i’ll need to go out later anyway and remove the “plow turds” from the end of the driveway should the city trucks ever make it back this way… so i’ll just finish up then.

Although there is a general sense of futility when shoveling snow during a blizzard, there is some degree of satisfaction.  I felt strong, looking behind me and seeing progress.  Comfort, knowing that i’m self-sufficient and independent.  Thankfulness, knowing that i’m healthy enough to push a shovel.

…and total fucking annoyance at the sound of snowblowers.  Yuppie bastards.

Tomorrow, after the snow stops, i’ll head across the street to tackle Mrs. E’s driveway.   i hope to hell some of my yuppie bastard neighbors show up with those annoying snowblowers…  or maybe a couple of Boy Scouts?

It could be worse.  This is what Mr. Pickles encountered on the back deck as he attempted to relieve himself this morning.  Can’t imagine having to take a leak in snow up to the ol’ junk…  Brrr…

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Post-script:  the city plows came during the night, and i managed to clear my escape route driveway.  as i was finishing up, and preparing myself mentally to tackle Mrs. E’s driveway, her son arrived in his BubbyTruck, complete with the Mother of All Snow-Blowers…  Halle-fucking-lujah!  A hot shower, more coffee and the Sunday paper!

duality clarified

The primary reason i’m hacking up morsels of my memory banks out here in the blogosphere is to sort out the duality of my nature…

Raised in The Park.  Comfortable in The Park.  Understand The Park.  Appreciative of Earthiness of The Park.  Know that my heritage lies in The Park.  Amused by The Park.

versus

Disgusted by behavior in The Park.  Struggling to run from The Park.  Embarassed by my connection to The Park.  Confused as to how i emerged from The Park.  Frightened by the potential impact of The Park on my children.

and then it hit me…

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oh fuck.  i’m a human mullet. 

“business” in the front, and “party” in the back…

Another year…

….and another venture.  In a classic sense, i’ve done remarkably well – especially considering i was voted “most likely to be found dead in a gutter” in the ol’ high school popularity poll.

There is, however, a tiny, perhaps moving, boundary i crossed somewhere along the way – averting a likely path into the world of “one bad damn decision after another”.  Part of what i am doing with this forum is to try to understand how that happened…

Parenting two rather extraordinary young adults who share some of my genetics (The Girl, 21, and The Boy, 19), i want to understand how i got out of The Park.  So that i can help keep them out of The Park.

The sister who also got out once said “The Trailer Park’s got long arms”.  Scary and true.  One must be vigilant…

Welcome – and i hope you enjoy the virtual Park experience.  Comments are encouraged!