Vowing never to renew the wedding
“Wedding season is coming up – why don’t we renew our vows?” I said dreamily to husband-head during a particularly romantic moment when he was clipping his nose hairs in the bathroom.Husband-head turned and looked at me as if I’d just suggested we jump off a bridge.”Yes, and why don’t we pay last year’s taxes again while we’re at it,” he agreed.But with summer weddings looming ahead, I fondly recalled planning my own ceremony – with the same kind of warm and fuzzy feeling one has when remembering having her gall bladder removed.”Do you remember when you proposed to me?” I continued wistfully.”Yes, I do,” husband-head said. “I think we were in the middle of a big fight and I whipped out the ring to get you to shut up.””What did I do?” I asked, not remembering my reaction.”Your eyes got real big and you got all teary … and then you hucked it at me,” husband-head said matter-of-factly.Oh.But obviously we made up since the next thing I knew, I was deeply ensconced in making wedding plans.At the time, we had just moved to Wisconsin where husband-head’s family lives and where I didn’t know a soul.”Here’s the list of people you need to invite,” my future mother-in-law had instructed me.I sat down and addressed wedding invitations to 200 complete strangers.This continued at my bridal shower where I sat in front of 50 women and received all kinds of beautiful gifts.”Uh … thank you … Doris,” I said, reading the card and looking around the room, wondering who the hell Doris was.For the next two months, my mother-in-law then proceeded to drag me to every bridal shop in Milwaukee and beyond. I ended up choosing the first dress I tried on months prior at a store two blocks from our apartment.Husband-head did his best to stay out of the whole wedding planning process until I finally insisted that he come with me to pick out our rings.”Do you remember when we were at the jewelry store?” I tested husband-head. “Do you recall what you said?””Sure,” husband-head nodded. “I told you I wanted the cheapest ring because I knew I wasn’t going to wear it anyway.”It was worse than that.”Do you remember the saleslady’s face when you said you wanted the inscription to say ‘Go Packers’?” I reminded him.”Yeah, that was cool,” husband-head said with a Beavis and Butt-head kind of laugh.The wedding ceremony itself was held in a state park in a small, stuffy chapel that had been closed up – probably for about 30 years – until our wedding. On top of that, everyone had failed to inform me just how sweltering hot and humid Wisconsin is in July.”I’m not going to rush this, but I’m going to make it pretty quick,” the pastor had whispered to me as we stood at the altar, my carefully applied makeup melting off my face. “People are starting to pass out.”I turned around to see the audience furiously fanning themselves and looking longingly out the windows.At the reception, when trying to quiet everyone down for the toast, husband-head began clanking his fork against his champagne goblet.The sound of the shattering glass got everyone’s attention.Several hours later, I found a very tipsy husband-head on the dance floor in a circle doing the “Chicken Dance” – flapping his arms around with his tuxedo shirt unbuttoned to his navel.The wedding video that recorded this embarrassing event has since mysteriously disappeared.”C’mon, it’s been more than 10 years since we were married – let’s renew our vows,” I continued to try and coax husband-head.”It’s been 10 years?” he echoed in awe. “Wow … murderers don’t get that long!”I punched him in the arm and pouted.”I just don’t think we need to relive that experience,” husband-head said, patting my head. “I renew my wedding vows to you every two weeks when I hand over my paycheck.”Heidi Rice is a Rifle correspondent for the Glenwood Springs Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. Visit her Web site at http://www.heidirice.com.
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Call me crazy, but I enjoy public transportation, especially since I’ve moved West, where I work at various ski town restaurants.