My cousin Ryan got married on Saturday to his lovely Delmynique. As they danced to Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable" at the reception, I looked around the room, amazed that any of the couples got together. Not because they were odd couples--they weren't. And not because they found someone who agreed on how to raise children and what to spend money on and how to disagree. That would be amazing, too. But so many people say they fell in love within the first five minutes of talking, obviously before they settled on an adequate "miscellaneous" budget amount. So the amazing part to me is how people met in the first place.
Delmynique was born in El Salvador and Ryan in Kansas, and yet, here they were, dancing in a union hall decorated in white and red in Missouri. The best man, my cousin Curran, sat with his girlfriend Maria from San Diego who Curran met while living in New York. Across the table, our friends Eddie and Betsy looked on as the newlyweds danced. Eddie is from Dublin and Betsy, Kansas City.
What winds of fate blow people together from opposite sides of the continent and opposite sides of the ocean? Circumstances look ordinary: a job, a mutual friend, a chance hello. But told together, the tiny coincidences make love stories.
My aunt Maureen sat beside me. My uncle Mike, the father of the groom, worked with Maureen at a hospital and arranged a blind date for her and my uncle Jerry, his brother. Now Jerry and Maureen are married with four children and Mike is occassionally called Dr. Love. Sitting at the table, Maureen said that she and Mike worked together years earlier at a different hospital. She also worked with a great uncle. It's as if fate had backup plans. In case she and Jerry didn't meet one way, they'd meet another.
Who knows how it all works. But here we were, eating beef and tortillas at a rare joining of two cultures in the melting pot of America. More importantly, it was the joining of two people, the start of a new life together for Ryan and Delmy. So here's wishing all the best for them.
As for the new pink and white bunny suit that I picked up for our church, I didn't have to worry that a boy might volunteer to wear it and feel embarrassed. No, a girl wore it after all. Or a woman, rather. Me. The eighth grader was a no-show, so I put on the big fluffy suit and floppy ears. People took lots of pictures, so I'll look forward to seeing those at some point, say, on the 12th of Never.
The suit looks like the pajamas on A Christmas Story, and is perhaps a Ralphie costume and not a bunny outfit, after all. Since the face was open, my kids knew it was me. So that was a nice Easter surprise for them. Guess what, kids? Not only do you get to spend 24 hours a day with me at home school. I'm also the Easter Bunny. When I told you the Easter Bunny only brings candy to children who listen to their mommies, I meant it, didn't I?
Since the boys are not total idiots, they knew I wasn't the Easter Bunny. I told them mommy was playing a little joke on them and the real Easter Bunny would bring candy to our house after breakfast. Of course, he hopped by too fast for anyone to see him.
The resolution is to finish these blogs earlier so that I can do some laundry and be available to pour cereal at a moments notice, instead of saying, "Okay. Let me just finish this. Sentence. Um, one second." That drives Johnny crazy. And I have a little resolution for him, too. No more T.V. in the morning. Books from now on. I'm getting serious about teaching him how to read.
So these blogs will either get shorter or sloppier. Hopefully it's the first option. Happy Easter.