Saturday, October 8

Home is where my habits have a habitat

The wedding went off without a hitch, except for the part where some of the more rude parties on the groom's side of the family hit my sister up for money to help pay for the decorations. Three times. I know times in Savannah aren't really that rosy financially for anyone ... ever ... but would it have killed them to at least wait until tomorrow to ask the bride to pony up for the cost of the candles and garland? That's one thing among many that I don't miss about Savannah: Most people don't grasp the concept of tact. Or should I say "tactfulness"? I guess you could say I don't grasp the concept of syntactical precision at the moment, since my eyelids are racing to see which one can reach my cheeks first. It's been quite a long day.

After the reception -- okay, after my family cleaned up the entire church after the reception -- I whisked my nephews off to see the Wallace and Gromit movie, which was cute as pie and puppies and toothy toddlers and all that. And so devilishly clever and above little ones' heads at times (Wallace is accidentally naked in front of a woman at one point, so Gromit thrusts a cheese box over him to cover his shame, and there's a sticker on the box that says "May contain nuts" -- hoo ha!). Nick Park is such a genius that as soon as I got home, I ate a piece of cheese.

The past two movies I've seen have been claymation and it has occurred to me that I am in the wrong vocation altogether. Of course, that occurs to me nearly every day, but the sentiment strengthens when I watch movies.

Tomorrow I have to work. Then I'm off Monday and Tuesday and have offered to drive back in to take care of Casey and Patrick, who are on fall break and who can't find a sitter. Those kids are a very bright light in my life -- one I wish I had shining around me more often. It's important for me to be a good aunt while they are young and not self-conscious about loving me. I know when puberty hits, their hormones will convince them that it is so unbelievably lame to go see cartoon movies with their spinster-in-training aunt. How I dread that day. They've got a few more years of childish antics to share with me.

Pictures tomorrow night, most likely.

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