Because You’re Mine

Since I have recently been invited to and/or stood up in eleventy-one weddings, I can say this with the utmost conviction: that party was fun.

I’m not saying there was a conga line which I led, but I’m not saying there wasn’t.

Also, some people got married or something.

They cried.

Which made me feel better when I did. But also caused me to cry. Catch-22 there.

I can’t begin to describe how much fun was had at the wedding, how much I loved my Disney-princess dress, or how touched I was that my sister walked down the aisle to the same song I did at my wedding years ago.

Also, she let us re-enact our first dance with no nudity this go round. (No, I am not joking and no, I am not telling that story right now.)

But the lasting impression I have from the wedding is this: I miss my sister.

No, she’s not some weird different person now that she’s married. She’s on that damned honeymoon and I haven’t been able to talk to her about how things went.

I feel sort of wonky and off-kilter without her.

I have no one to call just to ramble.

So like an insane person, I’ve been taking notes.

Every time, or the times I remember anyway, that I want to tell her something, I write it down and save it so I will remember to tell her later.

Sound familiar? That’s probably because, like me, you watch TV. This is a stunt Lorelei pulled with her daughter Rory when they weren’t speaking. (Ooooh, who knows what show I’m talking about without clicking that link?)

One of my notes says that.

So I’m carrying around a stack of post-its detailing the inanities of my life. Small Moments, if you will.