THE Wedding

Torture of tortures! I have to get up at 5am, so that we can meet the limo at 5:45am, so that we can have our hair done. And I can’t even think of sleeping after having my hair styled! I’ll mess up my ‘do!

When we return to the hotel, my sis’s fiancé spots us waiting for the elevators. My sis quickly hides behind a column to escape his view.

4 croissants and 4 muffins, a pitcher of orange juice, and some cheap-a$ champagne that doesn’t even taste good adds up to a $96 bill. That’s what you get for renting the presidential suite at the Hyatt.

Sis made us walk 3 blocks to the church. Not that I really mind walking, but when I’ve got to think about sidewalk cracks in my heels, make sure my dress doesn’t get dirty and worry about my sister’s train, it becomes a little complicated.

We run ahead to shoo her fiancé into the church. He can’t see my sis before the wedding!

My brother still clomps down the stairs. Dude! Your feet are too big! Well, they do say the taller they are the harder they fall – and my bro is 6’3”. In fact, since he lost about 10 lbs. My aunt asks me if my brother has gotten taller. Nope, just skinnier – not that he was skinny to begin with. Lookie, here – isn’t my bro adorable?

First, my dad dances with my sis for the father-daughter dance. Isn’t that sweet? Even though my dad is deaf and can’t hear any music, he does a superb job at leading my sister around the room. Guys! Take note! Even a man that is totally deaf can dance! So don’t gimme that excuse! Then, when I drag my brother’s girlfriend on the dance floor for “Brickhouse” my brother jumps in and starts dancing. And he ain’t just dancing like a white boy, either. He’s a-shakin’ his boo-tay! Wow! Where’d we all get our dancing genes from?

Cause you know I’m on the dance floor! My weekly disco ball dance sessions in my grandmother’s living room must have greatly influenced my siblings. Haven’t gone back in time for that one?

Let’s just say I would reconfigure my grammy’s record player by hooking up my boombox with its built-in CD player (I was such an early adopter!). I then turned off all the lights in the living room and forced my grandparents to endure hours of music (my grandparents labeled all of it as “rap” even though it was probably just Bobby Brown or En Vogue or something) played at high decibels and encouraged my siblings and cousins to join in on my boo-tay shakin’.

I can’t say my half-brothers benefited from the dancing genes, though. P dances stiffly (although he seems to enjoy dancing – he’ll dance with any female family member that’s willing to show him the moves) and S refuses to dance at all

My mom breaks her ankle while going down the steps laden with flower arrangements.