One of the many wonderful things about my dad, is that he’s always toting around his trusty black medicine case. He literally never leaves home without it. Though some people may call him a hypochondriac, I just call him prepared. If anyone ever gets a mysterious back spasm? Call dad. Can’t sleep? Jack’ll hook you up with some Melatonin pills. This weekend, my parents are visiting and thankfully, my dad brought me a few asthma inhalers since I forgot to refill my prescription.
Actually, my dad seems to double as a pharmacist at very convenient times. My wedding day in particular comes to mind. For some reason, I had a strange phobia of puking and peeing on myself while saying my vows. Cold feet? Nah, I was 100% sure I wanted to marry Grey; I simply didn’t want to humiliate myself in front all of my friends and family.
Apparently, my dad felt the same way because that morning, while we were getting ready, he decreed: “Stacey, I think today is a seven valium day.” I laughed, but he really wasn’t joking. Of course, I didn’t realize this until the dinner toast when he started reading his To Do List instead of his father of the bride speech. All the guests thought it a joke when he began deadpan: “Pick up giftbags. Drop off bridal bouquets. Get tux tailored.” I think he got midway down the honey-do list my mom made for him before he realized he was reading the wrong piece of paper!
I would have been rolling on the floor laughing about this, but I had hit him up for a few valium myself (which I washed down with some champagne), so I just smiled calmly during the speech and thought about how fascinating the twinkle lights on the dance floor were. In fact, most of the day I pretty much just grinned and imagined myself sliding down giant mountains made of funnel cake and floating down a river of chocolate milk. When, during the ceremony Grey was sweating buckets, I was cool as a cucumber. I remember wiping his brow with my hanky and thinking, “What’s all the fuss about?” A MUCH better alternative than barfing on myself, I must say!
Riding away on our golf cart...this is one of the last things I remember of my wedding!
![[del.icio.us]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/delicious.png)
![[Digg]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/digg.png)
![[Facebook]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/facebook.png)
![[Google]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/google.png)
![[LinkedIn]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/linkedin.png)
![[Technorati]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/technorati.png)
![[Twitter]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/twitter.png)
![[Yahoo!]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/yahoo.png)
![[Email]](http://nakedthanks.com/wp-content/plugins/bookmarkify/email.png)
Tags: champagne, Dad, Erie PA, golf cart, Grey, Lake Shore Country Club, pharmacist, To Do List, Valium, wedding
Thanks for your thanks — from jail.
P.S. Reading the to-do list at your wedding WAS a joke, and part of my speech, and you know it! However, I do not remember the garter thing, and I don’t remember the sparklers in lieu of rice, and I don’t remember you driving away in the stolen white Mercedes convertible. I do remember your brother taking revenge on the toilet by smashing drink glasses inside it.