Tim Cahill wrote a book called, “Pecked to Death by Ducks.” Well, that’s just how life feels like lately. I’ve had time to work on the book, but we’re now down to the stupidest little details, like, what’s the difference between “onboard” and “on board”? Answer: the former is only used as an adjective while the latter is used wherever else you need it. I know that’s not a good explanation, but it’s all I can seem to come up with. There is no definition for “on board” in the dictionary. So.
Then there’s the spacing between entries, above and below. 11 points? 15 points? Okay, let’s just make them all 12 points. So let’s go through all 22 chapters and make sure we’re consistent. Peck, peck.
And the wedding! Oy, the details! So just how many pieces of dance floor do we want? Doesn’t that depend on how big they are? How big are they? Three feet by three feet. But there’s that big oak tree, very picturesque with a wooden bench surrounding it, right smack in the middle of the yard. Okay, so 20 pieces? 30? What? Peck, peck.
But someone else could be doing some of this, couldn’t they? Sure. So Richard and Jake go off to Selix Sunday to get fitted for their tuxes. Richard gets back and says Jake is very upset because the tuxes are going to cost way more than he’d budgeted for. Well, why? Because that cute little salesgirl talked them into vests (extra $35), shoes (extra $20) and even socks (extra $5, but you get a little hankie for your suit pocket with that one). Socks? Socks? I made that husband of mine get right on the horn and cancel the vests, shoes and socks (socks! I still can’t get over it) and just go for the free cummerbunds, which cut back the price by $60 apiece. As long as their shoes are clean, I don’t care. Jay Gates wore huaraches to my wedding, and it was fine with me. So, right: I should’ve gone with them in the first place. Peck.
So we’ve engaged the DJ. The kids are very happy with him, and he’s only $1500. At least he’s the DJ who kept the crowd dancing while the hills across the way were engulfed in flames and the caterers couldn’t get to the party because the fire marshal blocked their way. This kind of equanimity we need. But what’s the playlist? We need to space the slow dances out between the fast dances. And Katie is worried about her dancing, which Jake has lovingly termed her “spazz dancing.” We need a few lessons here. Peck, peck.
And then there are the garter and the ring bearer’s pillow and the guest book plus appropriate pen and the veil and the flower topper for the cake and the corsages for the moms (really?) and gifts for the attendants and—do I hear quacking growing ever louder? Run.