As I’m writing this, it’s nine days since my daughter’s wedding, and I have finally managed to get dressed and stagger around like a normal human being. Well, OK, I’ll never be normal, but you get the idea.

Our house was tuned to the “All wedding, all the time” channel for so long, I don’t even know what to do with myself now that it’s over. Hmm, maybe I could do something with the piles of leftover wine, Mexican Coca-Cola and sparkling water littering the living room. Maybe I could declutter the rest of the house. These thoughts run through my head typically just before it’s time to take another nap.

About 30 seconds before the wedding, the bride and groom informed me, “Oh, all our friends are only going to drink beer and White Claw.” I just looked at them and said, “Really? Well, what am I going to do with the $2,500 worth of wine I bought?” Our venue requires you to bring your own wine and beer, which was just fine with me, because it was a fraction of the $42 per bottle that the other venues were charging.

But I bought all this icky sweet wine for the young people to drink. (Remember Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill? And Annie Green Springs?) And now what? I guess I can make wine coolers out of it this summer. Anyway, so we dashed off to the store and bought a bunch of beer and White Claw (which is a sweet fermented cider-ish kind of thing) and — sure enough — it all ran out pretty fast.

Is anyone having a party who wants to buy all this booze? Kidding. Just kidding. Trust me, in my house it will all be consumed. I just need to keep people away from my favorites. I guess they should go under the dresser in my room.

We spent the weekend up at Mt. Baldy after the wedding, since it was Memorial Day. It’s a pleasant place and only an hour from town. I’d rented all the guest rooms at the tiny Mt. Baldy Lodge and we enjoyed hanging out there. Or let’s just say that my friends enjoyed it, because I could not get out of bed Sunday — the day after the wedding. I got up long enough to go to the restaurant and eat breakfast because, like our dog Lil Wayne, I’m highly motivated by food.

During breakfast, I also managed to consume two excellent Bloody Marys because, well, why not?  After I drank those, I climbed back into the comfy bed in our tiny cabin and slept all day. It was delicious. The bride and groom were also still there. They left for their honeymoon on Monday morning. So they held court and let people congratulate them as they lay around the resort’s small pool and got sunburned.

Since there was a crowd of friends around the pool, people kept coming into my room to see if I wanted to come down and join them. I wanted to socialize at that moment about as much as I wanted to eat ground glass, so I just opened one eye and grumpily told them to go away and wake me for dinner. Well, one friend did bring me another Bloody Mary in a plastic cup, so I was nice to her.

As we were planning this wedding extravaganza over the last year, a number of you recommended that I should just tell my daughter to elope. Others suggested that I should have just given her money to do what she wanted. But, amazingly, the daughter and I were able to cooperate and have what I think was probably the best budget wedding in the known universe, based on the fact that people were still there and dancing when the DJ shut off the speakers and told them to go home.

As you know, I’m gimpy, so I danced as long as I could, and then I just sat down on a bench in front of the dance floor and waved my arms around like one of those people at the airport who guides the planes into their slots. Whatever they’re called. I just needed one of those flashlights they carry.

Right now, the bride and groom are hiking around Yosemite National Park. Neither has ever been there, so hopefully they’re having fun. I told them to go at 6 a.m. before it gets crowded, but they never take my advice so I don’t expect them to do this. Their honeymoon has consisted of chugging her little Toyota Yaris in a loop, from Cambria to Big Sur to Yosemite and then they’ll end up in Sequoia National Park before coming home.

So far, they’ve had a lot of fun, except apparently the glamping tent at Big Sur was infested with spiders the size of small dogs. Not much fun to anyone, I don’t think, unless you’re a spiderologist. I know that’s not really the word, but I’m too lazy to look it up. (See above)

It’s occurred to me that next week I could actually write about something besides The Wedding. We’ll see if I can get that together. Meanwhile, I can’t stop smiling, and I’m obsessively looking at videos of the resort where the honeymooners are staying. That’s not weird. Right?

Related links

Frumpy Middle-aged Mom: We made it through the wedding. And no one died.
Frumpy Middle-aged Mom: It’s almost time for the wedding. Gulp.
Frumpy Middle-aged Mom: Tales of wedding misadventures for my daughter
Frumpy Middle-aged Mom: Fire, smoke, fights and tears: More wedding misadventures
Frumpy Middle-aged Mom: More wedding disasters from my friends

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