And it continues...

What shall we choose for my misadventure two of J.'s wedding day? I think we'll go with my beloved spouse.

The bridal party's day started bright and early at eight a.m. - at least for the females. I secretly think males wake up on the day of their wedding, shower, shave, watch football/basketball/golf, take a nap, watch more sports, then wander down to the ceremony site thirty minutes before the wedding begins. The little devils still manage to look devastatingly handsome, which is completely unfair.

Since I was in the wedding and DH was coming as "designated reception mingler", he was under strict instructions to arrive no later than 4:00 p.m for the 4:30 ceremony. Unfortunately for him, there was some sort of catastrophe that closed the road to the gardens. He called me in a panic.

"Tell J. I'm sorry, but this cop is being a total *bad word* and won't let me through." He moved the phone away from his mouth.

"What if I just drive through? What are you gonna do?" He moved the phone back.

"Apparently, he's going to arrest me if I drive through. "

We gave him (and the many other guests who were being held up) alternate directions and had the coordinator postpone the wedding. Forty-five minutes passed. There was a wedding scheduled after Mrs. Darcy's, so we couldn't wait any longer. Out traipsed the wedding party down the hill, the girls clutching the arms of the men to keep from toppling over in their heels.

From behind us we heard "thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump." As one, we turned.

There was DH and the usher sprinting toward us from the parking lot.

DH slapped my tush as he ran by. "Look great babe. See you in a few J. - you look great too!"

At least the man knows how to make an entrance.

Unwanted knights

I hear that chivalry is dead. I accidently developed an excellent experiment that seemed to prove otherwise. Men are quite gallant - more so than I wanted. The experimental protocol:

Step 1: If at all possible, be female. If you can't pull off step 1, the test may not work quite the same way.

Step 2: Once you are on the highway, notice that your car is pulling to the left just a tad and recall that you meant to stop and put air in it before you left. Sigh heavily at your terrible memory, and pull over to the side of the road. Do your absolute best to be wearing a dress and very high heels. It would most likely work with other clothing choices, but this will be a definite aid.

Step 3: Put on hazards. Get out of car. Note that the stupid tire is all the stupid way flat. Toss your hair angrily over your shoulder, annoyed that you don't have a ponytail holder so your hair is going to be in your face while you change the tire. Be thankful you figured this out before you ruined the tire. Open trunk. Bend over to pull out spare. At this point, the first car should be stopping.

Step 4: Thank the gentleman for stopping and explain that you just have a flat and don't need his assistance. Tell him again. Give up and let him take the tire out of the trunk. Show him how to loosen bolt so he can get tire out. Tell him again, firmly. Thank him for his phone number. Assure him you don't want him to be late. Send him on his way. Roll tire to front of car where flat is. Go back to trunk to pull out jack and tire iron.

Step 5: Try not to get hit by second car pulling over. Explain to nice man that you have things under control. Thank him for stopping. Assure him you can do this. Give up and let him crawl under car to put jack in place. Politely pull tire iron out of his hand. Send him on his way with profuse thanks. Crawl under car and move jack to proper place. Start loosening nuts.

Step 6: Wipe grease from hands off on napkin first guy gave you with number on it. Notice you have a smear of dirt on your leg from the jack and a smear of grease on your forehead from the tire. Laugh, start to wipe it off. Jump toward ditch to avoid getting hit by third truck stopping.

Step 7: Explain to three guys that you are almost done changing tire. Get picked up and set on tailgate of truck by the one who looks fourteen. Chastise him about manhandling and hop down. Ask if his mother would approve of that. Notice him looking sheepish. Check time. Let them finish changing the tire. Thank them profusely. Jump in car, roll down passenger window, blow a kiss, and tell them that their mothers would be very proud as you drive away.

I appreciate the chivalry, really I do. I think it's darling when men stop to help women. I would just rather they only stop if they actually know how to change the tire.