In The Dawg House
Earlier tonight, the family and I attended the wedding reception for my cousin who probably is the most adventurous of the entire clan. For instance, the entire affair was located in a field in the middle of nowhere which serves as the headquarters for a group of motorcycle enthusiasts known as “The Dawgs” (wonder where they came up with that name) 😉 Let me just say that the gathering was never dull. I did miss what was sure to have been the highlight of the evening. The bride’s step-mother arrived on the back of a bike in a skirt and other wedding appropriate clothing. The hog was being driven by a gentleman in kilts worn in traditional Scottish style. LuAnn was not sure what she should have held onto during her ride.
While a large number of the guests looked like the stereotypical Easy Rider types: leather vest, boots, jeans, etc. many seemed friendly enough. Somehow, we encountered someone who has a familial tie on my father’s side. This was odd because the wedding was for Stacy, the daughter of my mother’s brother. Then a few tables in front of us sat a gentleman who we THOUGHT was my father’s nephew (obviously, one of those relatives whom I have never before met). The man’s father shared the same name with my uncle who is dead… so definitely not related. Later on, I came across the best man who was laying on top of a picnic table looking like he had been celebrating a little too much too early. However, he chalked it up to indigestion. And I did see a few guys with long beards that looked like they could have been rejects from ZZ Top
The best part of the entire gathering was seeing two of my best friends, Britt and Jan, whom I have not seen in probably two years. The strange thing is that they live only like an hour away. So we caught up briefly and B and I both agreed that we were TOTALLY out of our element. I considered inviting them to the game night I was going to attend; however, she felt that she was needed there to help with her step-sister’s reception. That part of the family tree is a loooong story that I probably should not get into on this blog… aaaah, family.
Plus, my cousin from Sandusky commented on my post about the Ghostly Manor. Apparently, he passes by the haunt quite frequently; however, he and his wife have never braved the interior. I just dunno why these people who comment in person don’t post in the comment box. They must be unable to do so while they read the blog while at work. I also cannot fathom why the people from far away lands don’t comment. I see on my stats that I get a number of hits from Sweden, Germany, and other countries. Surely, something draws their attention or they would not keep coming back.