Punch Duty

Ahh.... back from the wedding of the century and from the dreaded punch duty.

What did I wear? How nice of you to ask. A sparkly black skirt, white camisole, an aqua "librarian's" sweater with a pink and white rhinestone pin, and my golden heart shoes from last year. My mom said I looked pretty... serving punch. More about that later...

The wedding was really sweet. Hymns, scripture read by my uncle who has an amazing speaking style, and in a pink suit, my grandma Molly walking herself down the aisle.

I thought perhaps she'd ask someone to accompany her -- but she went it alone. How amazing it was to see her confidently stroll down that carpet, smiling at the man she loves! I hope I have that much spunk to do that for myself someday.

And truly, she's had to reinvent herself since my G'pa died. Learning to manage things alone, live by herself after all those years of marriage, see herself as a single senior woman -- my grandma did a fine job creating a single life for herself. I couldn't be prouder of how far she's come after losing a spouse.

So... back to the wedding and reception.

My cousin E. (the mastermind), sister B., and I were reception liasons of sorts. By the time we got to the buffet tables where the adorable cupcake wedding tiers, drinks, and snacks were arranged, people were already starting to flow in. B disapperared to take pictures, while E and I took our places behind the tables.

I started doling out cups of the frothy pineapple punch (note to Molly -- good non-staining color choice!) while E took cups of ice water to the frothing masses stuck at the back of the enormous line. She didn't want anyone to pass out at Grandma's wedding, after all. Pouring the cups of punch was a challenge with the big chunks of sorbet floating in it. A couple of times people seemed hesitant to take the sticky cups from me. I don't know why...

Anyway, when two full punch bowls were emptied and another cousin showed up to help with punch duty, things almost got ugly.

"What do you mean you're out of punch?" one oldster whined.

Yeah, um, I'm like a RELATIVE -- not a caterer girl! Do I look like I work here? I'm so getting a name tag next time I'm on punch duty. Wait -- no next time. I'll volunteer for something non-punch related.

Anyway, I flagged down the caterer, who then scurried away to whip up more pineapple froth. Left with nothing else, we handed out cups of ice water while getting dubious looks from people who wanted punch.

"People relax, the punch is coming, " I kept reassuring the crowd. Finally the punch arrived, and despite wanting to punch thirsty party-goers, we filled cups and smiled.

As the stragglers moved through the line, I looked at cousin E and said, "Enough with the punch duty. I'm taking you to eat a cupcake."

And we did. Chocolate. Yum. It was a good day. And I survived punch duty... just barely.