Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Chicago Part II

 {party in the limo, as my brother Joey said, "Its kind of prom in here."}

{Meredith and Phyllis}

Recovering from a trip is almost as difficult as it is preparing to go on a trip. I am tired beyond belief. Exhausted.

But, here we go, part II of my trip to Chicago...  The pictures above?  Yeah, they're the only ones that I took.  all.  weekend.  long.  Not kidding.  Ridiculous, right?

My dad picked me up from my Gram's house on Saturday morning at 9am. Believe me, that was really early. He knew which condo was hers because it was the one with a Grandma in the window. Really, she stands in the window every time she knows someone is coming over.

And now, I am just going to fast forward through the day by saying that it involved a lot of eating (my dad keeps trying to tell my stepmom that whatever the amount of food is that she thinks she needs, she really just needs to half that), a lot of talking and a lot of oohing and ahhing. I flew up to Chicago for the weekend to go to my cousin Phyllis's wedding and let me just tell you...my cousin Phyllis is an amazing person. I think everyone was in agreement all weekend that she is, by far, one of the kindest, most genuine, caring people that ever walked the Earth. Exaggeration? No. Really, this time, I am not exaggerating.

So, we all got ready at my Dad and Ger's house and then the limo took all of us – my brothers, the bride, and the wedding party – over to the Groom's parents' house for pictures and from there to the ceremony.

Every aspect of this wedding was a reflection of the love and respect that Phyllis and Dan have for each other.  

And the reception?  Outstanding.  There was steak AND chicken for dinner, in addition to an open bar.  Yay!  And yes, I did rock the dance floor.  For hours.  I would just like to take this time to thank Debbie, Geralyn, Yvonne and my Dad (he loves the Motown) for rocking the floor with me.  

Sunday morning came fast and furiously.  We sat in the kitchen, chatting and drinking coffee.  And I didn't want to leave.  I mean, I did want to leave because I missed my husband and my children, but I didn't want to leave because sitting at my dad's kitchen table is one of the most warm and welcoming places and I never want to leave there.  

But, I did.  And then he took me to the airport.  I flew home.  Walked the 8 miles back to my car and then drove almost 2 hours back to my house.  

And just like that, my trip was over.  

Holy cow, I cannot even begin to tell you how very, very tired I am.  So I am going to bed.

1 comment:

Allyson said...

Glad to hear that your car was 4 miles closer than you left it.