Love is a battlefield and I'm (nearly) pantsless

A wise woman once said "Love is a Battlefield" and I believe her.

Our friends Mikey D. and Brandi K. tied the knot this weekend at an historical battlefield (or so said the County Commission when they paid over 8 MILLION dollars for the place). When I first heard they were getting married on a battlefield, in August, in GEORGIA, where it's 98 degrees AFTER the sun goes down, I thought I would treat it like a spa day. You know, humidity + heat = sauna. See, that's a positive. Well, the nuptials took place at 6:30, in the shade (who knew there would be shade on a battlefield?) and there was a great breeze. Turns out these kids knew what they were doing all along.

The actual vows were short, sweet and to the point. The bride had jokes. When it came time for the exchange, all of the bridesmaids had the most gaudy, tacky (fake) rings you can imagine. All the men in attendance at the ceremony were so jealous when they saw the real ring. It was a titanium band with a camouflage insert. After the ceremony, we all retired to the "barn" for the reception. The tables were decorated with Mason jar centerpieces full of colorful Gerber daisies, tied with raffia bows. There were also smaller Mason jars with boiled peanuts to eat and for ambient lighting, Mason jars filled 3/4 with roasted peanuts topped with a tea light. Gorgeous and simple. In the picture below, you can see our "take-aways". That's right. Camo koozies "to have and to hold and to keep your beer cold." The back has the bride and groom's names and the date. Too cool. Haha ... "too cool" ... koozies ... get it? Notice mine is holding the cocaine of the South, Coca Cola. Dinner was catered by these local folks. Instead of the traditional "nobody ever eats enough of these things to warrant the cost" wedding cake, the happy couple had a top round tier to cut and the rest of the "layers" were cupcakes, mini pecan pies and ... wait for it ... Krispy Kreme donuts. Just take it and apply it directly to my hips, please. You know I didn't pass one up. I'd be kicked out of Georgia if I passed over a KK.

Much fun was had, much beer was drank (drunk?) with a little of this thrown in for good measure. There was dancing, if you're being generous about what was happening on the floor. And then, the happy duo rode off into the sunset. Well, okay, maybe not the sunset. But it sounds better to say it that way than to say they stayed 'til after midnight and stumbled off into the pasture to find this:

What you can't see is all the writing on the windows, the 50 beer can string and the 50-gallon trashcan tied to the bumper. Needless to say, they did not go quietly.

I know you're wondering about the whole "nearly pantsless" thing. The outfit I had planned to wear to this shindig was dependent upon a pair of white capri pants. My favorites (i'll post some pics tomorrow). Living in Nowhereville, we still take our dry cleaning to the best around. The best around happens to be about 25 miles away. Don't go thinking I'm nuts. I know you were. It's on the way to work. Sort of. If I go a little out of the way. Anywho, I took the pants to the cleaners in preparations for the wedding. This is how things went down via text the day before the wedding (keeping in mind I had asked several times for Marv to take/pick up the pants in the week prior):

Me: Can you pick up my pants from the cleaners?

Marv:

Me: Can you go by the cleaners and get my pants, plz?

Marv:

Me: Are you ignoring my question about picking up my pants at the cleaners?

Marv: No.

Me: Can you pick them up?

Marv: I'll try to get by there.

Me: Thx.

Later that day:

Me: Did you pick up pants?

Marv: I forgot to go by. I'll get tomorrow.

Me: What if you forget tomorrow?

Marv: You can wear khakis like me.

So, as you can imagine, I ended up picking up the pants after going out of my way because I KNEW he would most likely forget and I would be pantsless. Because let's face it. Once you have your outfit picked and you've matched his bow tie to your shoes, KHAKIS WILL NOT SUFFICE! Ugh. By the way, yes it is annoying that Marv will not use "txt speak" and I have to spell everything out.

So, as the expert Pat Benatar stated, Love IS a Battlefield. You pick at each other over the little things, you argue over the not so little things but overall, the good usually outweighs the bad. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have ... oh great. Now I'll never get this out of my head. I'm thinking by starting the marriage out ON the battlefield, you can only go up. And with all of us around to help, they'll still be going strong by the time the county has paid for the dang place.