Saturday night we attended a wedding reception. DH’s nephew was married in Las Vegas, and a reception was held for them when they returned.
I’ve never seen a DJ get up and put on a performance at a reception. These two college age kids switched into sleeveless black “muscle” shirts, zipped across the dance floor and hopped onto the amplifiers. I gather that the music that was playing was “Greased Lightning.” They turned their backs to the party and wagged their butts, and then turned again to do what was clearly a dance that the younger members of the audience recognized.
Several of the young women rushed to the edge of the dance floor and mirrored the dance they were watching. Then at some point they all raced off to get one-dollar bills, and the more brazen ones stuffed them into the guy’s pockets.
The guys ignored them and kept right on dancing.
Is this what we can expect at wedding receptions now?? Sure seems like an odd way to celebrate a wedding. This was like a cleaned up version of a stripper at a bachelor party.
I know…..I’m an old fogie.

I missed the Emmys. I don’t mind that. I mind that I didn’t even realize they were going to be on, and I mind that I missed the fashion review that preceeds the awards.
I miss the range of attire from tacky to sublime. I guess the dresses for the Oscars are even better, or perhaps wilder, but the Emmy nominees are like Avis, they try harder. And I missed it.
I was reading the list of winners. I’m delighted that Tony Shaloub won for comedy actor, for “Monk.” And Debra Messing (gawd, she’s a beautiful woman!), for “Will and Grace.” I recognize a lot of the winners names, but not necessarily the shows. I’ve never seen “Everybody Loves Raymond.” I’m not surprised Doris Roberts won, since her work is always good. She’s one of those actors who has a work ethic that goes the distance. The same could be said of Tyne Daley, who won for Supporting Actress in a drama, “Judging Amy.”
But the point of all this is that we see very little TV any longer. “Monk” is a favorite show that we watch for. Otherwise, we have no idea what’s going on with comedies or dramas. The History Channel, Discover, The Learning Channel, Biography….those are what hold our interest.
So….I guess we qualify as old fogies. The nice thing about that is that it doesn’t bother me. I can entertain myself endlessly, with great variety, even if I don’t know who is in “Everybody Loves Raymond.”

I was reading Dear Abby today, and a young woman wrote in to say that she was in love, and she and her boyfriend were thinking about marrying, but there was one little problem. Her fiance claimed to be from another planet. This HAD to be a made up letter. What woman in her right mind would continue a relationship with someone who claimed to be an alien??
She treated it as a joke until he began announcing his heritage to her family and friends. Even then, she was still considering marrying him! She said “I know he was born in Chicago.” (As if that makes him normal in any way…)
If this is what their relationship was like at the start, think of where it’s going to go. She’ll be forced to accept every little change that comes along. He’ll say that it’s a requirement on his planet. This is just another guy who wants to have his own way, and has found a novel way to get it.
I’d put up with a lot of quirks, but I think I’d pass on this one. Now, I’ll find out that Fred is an alien…and all along I’ve been making excuses for him. It would explain his fixation with the Marx Brothers. *G*

We tend to think of thirteen as an unlucky number. We lump it with black cats and walking under ladders and stuff of superstitions. But I think thirteen just might be a lucky number, at least from my point of view today.
Fred, my Dear Husband, and I have been married thirteen years today. We have been companions for twenty years, but we said our vows just thirteen years ago.
If you ask me, it doesn’t seem possible we have been together 20 years, let alone 13. They say time flies when you are having a good time.
Fred and I compliment each other. No…..we don’t sit around telling each other how good we are. Silly! The parts of me that are missing, HE has…..and vice versa. We make the perfect Trivial Pursuit team. My family hates to play us.
I worry, he doesn’t. I plan, he doesn’t (except for the business). I love the cat, he doesn’t. He sails, I don’t. He tells AWFUL puns, I don’t (for the most part.) He thinks he’s immortal, I don’t. He’s mechanical and I’m not. We fit like old shoes.
Happy Anniversary, Fred. Stay safe, love, and don’t loose your way.