wild west

We are getting ready to drive to Oregon for what I am not-so-fondly calling the "wedding of the fucking century". J-dog's fabulous friend from college is getting hitched. I know and love this woman, I find her extremely intelligent, witty, and down to earth. She works on complicated environmental issues that benefit all of us, and is one bad ass chick. And then came the wedding.

It started when she asked me to be a bridesmaid. I thought that sounded amusing so I figured what the hell, I haven't done this since the 80s... But it turns out I am one of SEVEN bridesmaids. I started sweating then, from fear of taffeta and dyed shoes. Dyed shoes make me particularly nervous. There should be some sort of legislation banning them. Really.

So we are driving 12 hours for a three day extravaganza. Parties, rehearsals, dinners, pictures, and eventually even a wedding. The gala is being held on a ranch, where the only lodging is inside the ranch, and what an expensive ranch it is. Hundreds of dollars for 3 nights of lodging. And that doesn't include food. Or beer.

Then, if the fear hadn't already started creeping into all parts of my brain, the real nail biter came last night. Our formal invitation to a Friday night party with a Wild West theme. Ho' down with the Cowboy and Cowgirl IN COSTUME sort of invitation. They actually put this in writing. Hanker on over to the outpost around 10pm, and so forth.

There better be an open bar all weekend long. If not, we'll be forced to crack open the bottle of JW Blue we got for their wedding gift on the Cambodian black market and carried in our backpack for a month. I am not even sure she deserves it any more.

Look forward to this cowgirl ho's recap of her rootin' tootin' good time sometime next week.