breaking a federal law
last sunday, one of my aunts had a wedding. my mom, dad, sister and i missed the wedding ceremonies itself because we had a piano recital, but we were able to attend the reception, which was somewhere in intramuros somewhere in old manila and 15 minutes drive away. i’m not so good at history, so when my mom told me it was a garden reception at intramuros, i grinned and asked, “so is it some sort of fancy new hotel or something?”
my mom stared at me as if i was a total stranger. “lauryn, intramuros used to be a walled city in old manila!” or something like that. i have a very bad memory.
the reception, baluarte de san diego, or however you spell that, was beautiful. it was basically a garden surrounded by old ruins of something that looked like a small castle. there were around 2 dozen tents that shaded about more than a hundred tables with shades of pink all around the garden. and those hundred tables seated about eight or ten. people who were sitting on the chairs, daintily eating their meal, looked very posh, prim, proper and very well-mannered. i suddenly felt like a little girl who hasn’t learned how to eat with a spoon and a fork yet. i looked at the dress i was wearing [a long, body hugging black dress up to my ankles] and saw that i looked pretty much human in it but that was only on the outside. i wondered if i would drop my spoon, my fork or spill my bowl of soup.
“there’s our table!” my sister exclaimed, pointing to table number eleven. i straightened up my posture before my mom could remind me, gave my sister a look that suggested she should go back to kindergarten and walked to the table like a model walking on the runway could. so far, so good.
twenty minutes later: i haven’t goofed up yet. after sitting on the table for about two seconds, i got bored and said hello to my grandparents, walked to where my cousin, amanda was sitting [she's one of the bridesmaids, that's why she wasn't with my other relatives] and got introduced to my long lost cousin, patricia from new jersey [i call her long-lost because i have never met her] and got introduced to hordes of people by my long lost uncle and aunt [i call them long-lost because i have never met them either]. then i casually strolled to the buffet table, looked critically at the food the way the rich and the famous do, poured sauce on my carbonara and went back to the table. i was so starved.
about five minutes later, my mom asked why most of my carbonara were lying on the bottom of my already fat-laiden tummy. i replied that i was hungry, and she replied and talked to me using a tone she often used on my five year old brother when she was explaining something to him. “lauryn, in a formal dinner, you’re supposed to eat slowly.”
chow time went on smoothly, except for one part when i was returning back to our table with a plate overloaded with dessert. one of the cupcakes fell, smearing the skirt of my dress with purple icing and i thanked my lucky stars i hadn’t worn the white skirt i insisted on wearing. after eating, my sister and i decided to explore this old cave i saw when i was getting some food but decided not to since we ran into our uncle along the way and he told us that the place was haunted by filipinos who were murdured by the hundreds by the japanese everyday during world war II. so we just posed for pictures, occasionally saying a word or two and waited for amanda and patricia to finish their photo session with the bride and groom. wedding formalities. what a bore.
an hour or two later, i began to curse at the person who invented those wedding ceremonies. such as the part where the “single” ladies line up and the bride throws her bouquet. i didn’t want to line up because i just felt like sitting there because my feet hurt but my sister pulled me anyway with amanda and patricia and the next thing i knew, i was holding the bouquet. i had caught the bouquet. the bride’s bouquet. the bride made me give it back since i wasn’t eighteen yet, and suddenly, i felt all the prim and properliness slip away from me as i began to giggle along with my sister and cousins.
i felt awfully embarassed and started saying something about never attending weddings anymore, be it my own or someone else’s, but it grew worse when i saw my mother coming toward us. and she didn’t look very happy. i suddenly stopped laughing and it dawned to me that i had broken one of the most important federal laws in the world: no girl under 10 must catch the bride’s bouquet. i trembled, but i wasn’t afraid of my mom, even though she rattled like a machine gun when she was mad. i was terrified of my strict, no-nonsense, close-your-eyes-there’s-a-kissing-scene dad. the latter had the amazing talent of raising the roof whenever he lost his temper. amanda and my sister gave me sympathetic looks as i marched to my mom to await my punishment. suddenly, i knew how the poor filipinos who died there felt like.
i walked over to the table where my dad and several elderly aunts were sitting, talking and laughing. i waited for the lecture, the grounding, the tears and the shame for having caught the bouquet. but the lecture never came. later on, i found out that he didn’t lecture me because one of my super-conservative elderly aunts found the humor in it and started laughing. i guess that’s what loosened my dad up. i guess that made me change my mind about not going to weddings anymore. some of those rituals were kind of silly, like the bouquet thing. i decided that if i would attend another wedding and my sister would try to drag me in the catching the bouquet bit, i would just reply, “who says i’m single? i belong to blip you know.”
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breaking a federal law
last sunday, one of my aunts had a wedding. my mom, dad, sister and i missed the wedding ceremonies itself because we had a piano recital, but we were able to attend the reception, which was somewhere in intramuros somewhere in old manila and 15 minutes drive away. i’m not so good at history, so when my mom told me it was a garden reception at intramuros, i grinned and asked, “so is it some sort of fancy new hotel or something?”
my mom stared at me as if i was a total stranger. “lauryn, intramuros used to be a walled city in old manila!” or something like that. i have a very bad memory.
the reception, baluarte de san diego, or however you spell that, was beautiful. it was basically a garden surrounded by old ruins of something that looked like a small castle. there were around 2 dozen tents that shaded about more than a hundred tables with shades of pink all around the garden. and those hundred tables seated about eight or ten. people who were sitting on the chairs, daintily eating their meal, looked very posh, prim, proper and very well-mannered. i suddenly felt like a little girl who hasn’t learned how to eat with a spoon and a fork yet. i looked at the dress i was wearing [a long, body hugging black dress up to my ankles] and saw that i looked pretty much human in it but that was only on the outside. i wondered if i would drop my spoon, my fork or spill my bowl of soup.
“there’s our table!” my sister exclaimed, pointing to table number eleven. i straightened up my posture before my mom could remind me, gave my sister a look that suggested she should go back to kindergarten and walked to the table like a model walking on the runway could. so far, so good.
twenty minutes later: i haven’t goofed up yet. after sitting on the table for about two seconds, i got bored and said hello to my grandparents, walked to where my cousin, amanda was sitting [she's one of the bridesmaids, that's why she wasn't with my other relatives] and got introduced to my long lost cousin, patricia from new jersey [i call her long-lost because i have never met her] and got introduced to hordes of people by my long lost uncle and aunt [i call them long-lost because i have never met them either]. then i casually strolled to the buffet table, looked critically at the food the way the rich and the famous do, poured sauce on my carbonara and went back to the table. i was so starved.
about five minutes later, my mom asked why most of my carbonara were lying on the bottom of my already fat-laiden tummy. i replied that i was hungry, and she replied and talked to me using a tone she often used on my five year old brother when she was explaining something to him. “lauryn, in a formal dinner, you’re supposed to eat slowly.”
chow time went on smoothly, except for one part when i was returning back to our table with a plate overloaded with dessert. one of the cupcakes fell, smearing the skirt of my dress with purple icing and i thanked my lucky stars i hadn’t worn the white skirt i insisted on wearing. after eating, my sister and i decided to explore this old cave i saw when i was getting some food but decided not to since we ran into our uncle along the way and he told us that the place was haunted by filipinos who were murdured by the hundreds by the japanese everyday during world war II. so we just posed for pictures, occasionally saying a word or two and waited for amanda and patricia to finish their photo session with the bride and groom. wedding formalities. what a bore.
an hour or two later, i began to curse at the person who invented those wedding ceremonies. such as the part where the “single” ladies line up and the bride throws her bouquet. i didn’t want to line up because i just felt like sitting there because my feet hurt but my sister pulled me anyway with amanda and patricia and the next thing i knew, i was holding the bouquet. i had caught the bouquet. the bride’s bouquet. the bride made me give it back since i wasn’t eighteen yet, and suddenly, i felt all the prim and properliness slip away from me as i began to giggle along with my sister and cousins.
i felt awfully embarassed and started saying something about never attending weddings anymore, be it my own or someone else’s, but it grew worse when i saw my mother coming toward us. and she didn’t look very happy. i suddenly stopped laughing and it dawned to me that i had broken one of the most important federal laws in the world: no girl under 10 must catch the bride’s bouquet. i trembled, but i wasn’t afraid of my mom, even though she rattled like a machine gun when she was mad. i was terrified of my strict, no-nonsense, close-your-eyes-there’s-a-kissing-scene dad. the latter had the amazing talent of raising the roof whenever he lost his temper. amanda and my sister gave me sympathetic looks as i marched to my mom to await my punishment. suddenly, i knew how the poor filipinos who died there felt like.
i walked over to the table where my dad and several elderly aunts were sitting, talking and laughing. i waited for the lecture, the grounding, the tears and the shame for having caught the bouquet. but the lecture never came. later on, i found out that he didn’t lecture me because one of my super-conservative elderly aunts found the humor in it and started laughing. i guess that’s what loosened my dad up. i guess that made me change my mind about not going to weddings anymore. some of those rituals were kind of silly, like the bouquet thing. i decided that if i would attend another wedding and my sister would try to drag me in the catching the bouquet bit, i would just reply, “who says i’m single? i belong to blip you know.”
Filed under Shopping |Related Posts
- Living Room Furniture at Federal Hardware
- Shoe/Footwear Cabinet
- Seaweed Accent Furniture
- breaking a federal law
- And the days go on…
- Pardon the French, but I HAVE HAD ENOUGH
- I just got lost in thought; it was unfamiliar territory
- The gods love Nubians…our director doesn’t
- (not to brag).
- It must be summer cos the streets are bare
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