Sorry Hillbilly, bad timing with your wedding and all, but please understand the two are not related!
Have been reading a book. The book says we are going to die. All of us. Yup. Die. No, it's not a rumour. One day we will be dead and gone. When we hear of a friend struggling with a health issue and think, the poor soul might die, the truth is that we are in the same boat, although we delude ourselves by thinking that death happens to other people. It doesn't. It's the one thing you can count on. As the saying goes, no one gets out of here alive.
Coming to terms with his own eventual cessation of existence, the author says he has decided he is going to make some changes in his life. He has started smoking. He smokes wine dipped cigars. He feels that statistically he has less time left than more time and wants that less time to be as full of the pleasures available to him as can be. If you start smoking EARLY in your life, it can shave years off your expected existence. But if you start smoking after age 50, pfft, you're good to go, you are far more likely to die of many things, none of them related to your late life smoking.
Author also says he's given up tedious obligations, like weddings. When I read this I leapt up, tossed the book onto my sleeping Hub, and did the happy dance. Yes! Yes! Yes! Free from weddings! I am going to die, I am going to smoke cigars and I am never going to another stinking wedding in my life! Dance, dance, weeeee! Or as Sweetened would say, SQUEEEE!
Before all the disapproving chest puffers write me a lecture, let me explain. Like the author, I have been to weddings where my invitation was an obligation, and had no meaning whatsoever other than I was a name being crossed off a list. I have been to weddings of people I never see past that day. To put it plainly, my presence or absence at the wedding does not make one bit of difference. NONE! So, why am I there? Why was I invited? Why did I wrestle myself, cursing and weeping, into a pair of pantyhose to sit and sweat and wonder if I can go smoke a cigar in the ladies washroom. There is a good chance that at most weddings either the bride or groom have no idea who I really am. I have decided, I'm not doing that anymore! I'm going to stay home and dip my wine cigar in even more wine, smoke AND drink and to hell with pantyhose!
However...on those rare occasions when a coupe have an intimate wedding, wanting to be surrounded by the people who truly make a difference in their lives, people who they know and love, people who they would visit and have coffee with if they had time, THOSE weddings I will attend. And yes, I know the difference between the 'we have to invite old Aunty Uno' invitations, and the invitations that are steeped in meaning and love. You know too. You know what I mean.
The author says he will continue to make himself available to people when he can offer them assistance, friendship or support. But that other stuff where his attendance will not be noticed or missed, nope, staying home, smoking. Now that I'm of a certain age, I can really get on board with this curmudgeonly way of being. But why do we call people who are honest and true, curmudgeons? I think it's because we all secretly wish we could freely say no to obligations (disguised as invitations) and stay home smoking and drinking. I, for one, am going to unapologetically say no. I am going to pick and choose where I go based on whether or not it really matters. If you phone and I don't answer, I'm out in the duck pen with a cigar and glass of wine. Leave a message, I'll call back, probably.
Have been reading a book. The book says we are going to die. All of us. Yup. Die. No, it's not a rumour. One day we will be dead and gone. When we hear of a friend struggling with a health issue and think, the poor soul might die, the truth is that we are in the same boat, although we delude ourselves by thinking that death happens to other people. It doesn't. It's the one thing you can count on. As the saying goes, no one gets out of here alive.
Coming to terms with his own eventual cessation of existence, the author says he has decided he is going to make some changes in his life. He has started smoking. He smokes wine dipped cigars. He feels that statistically he has less time left than more time and wants that less time to be as full of the pleasures available to him as can be. If you start smoking EARLY in your life, it can shave years off your expected existence. But if you start smoking after age 50, pfft, you're good to go, you are far more likely to die of many things, none of them related to your late life smoking.
Author also says he's given up tedious obligations, like weddings. When I read this I leapt up, tossed the book onto my sleeping Hub, and did the happy dance. Yes! Yes! Yes! Free from weddings! I am going to die, I am going to smoke cigars and I am never going to another stinking wedding in my life! Dance, dance, weeeee! Or as Sweetened would say, SQUEEEE!
Before all the disapproving chest puffers write me a lecture, let me explain. Like the author, I have been to weddings where my invitation was an obligation, and had no meaning whatsoever other than I was a name being crossed off a list. I have been to weddings of people I never see past that day. To put it plainly, my presence or absence at the wedding does not make one bit of difference. NONE! So, why am I there? Why was I invited? Why did I wrestle myself, cursing and weeping, into a pair of pantyhose to sit and sweat and wonder if I can go smoke a cigar in the ladies washroom. There is a good chance that at most weddings either the bride or groom have no idea who I really am. I have decided, I'm not doing that anymore! I'm going to stay home and dip my wine cigar in even more wine, smoke AND drink and to hell with pantyhose!
However...on those rare occasions when a coupe have an intimate wedding, wanting to be surrounded by the people who truly make a difference in their lives, people who they know and love, people who they would visit and have coffee with if they had time, THOSE weddings I will attend. And yes, I know the difference between the 'we have to invite old Aunty Uno' invitations, and the invitations that are steeped in meaning and love. You know too. You know what I mean.
The author says he will continue to make himself available to people when he can offer them assistance, friendship or support. But that other stuff where his attendance will not be noticed or missed, nope, staying home, smoking. Now that I'm of a certain age, I can really get on board with this curmudgeonly way of being. But why do we call people who are honest and true, curmudgeons? I think it's because we all secretly wish we could freely say no to obligations (disguised as invitations) and stay home smoking and drinking. I, for one, am going to unapologetically say no. I am going to pick and choose where I go based on whether or not it really matters. If you phone and I don't answer, I'm out in the duck pen with a cigar and glass of wine. Leave a message, I'll call back, probably.
My hubby has a huge family and they all love huge splashy (boring) weddings where you're expected to be mushed over by people you don't know, wear clothes you can't afford and bring gifts that are painful to choose because you don't know them! We just (thankfully) got out of one of his family get togethers last week phew! Nothing like going on a holiday with people you hardly know where they all stay in $300+ night hotel rooms bringing their nannies and au pairs with them while they compete in marathons (oh hell no!), eat at fancy restaurants, go to symphonies and plays while we'd have to stay in a campsite and eat PB&J sandwichs in our trailer