Thursday, March 24, 2011

Cocktail, schmocktail.

What the heck is a cocktail dress anyway?  I'm about the most unfeminine woman I know, and this very Saturday I have to come up with a DRESS to wear to my brother's wedding.  Yes, my baby brother is getting married.  I distinctly remember changing his diaper a time or two and winding the crank on his swing when it stopped and the little shit started crying.  Ah, but he was cute.  And I was so happy to hold him and play tricks on him when I was a mischievous 9 year old and he was a gullible 3 year old.  I quite happily convinced him that my feet could talk one day.  I tried to play with his "boy" toys even though I was girl(ish).  And I used to watch him walk around the yard with a stick in his hand pretending to be He-Man - making sure he didn't wander out of sight.  On our tire swing that hung from a very high limb on one of our dad's 200 year old oak trees, Josh could really swing dangerously high.  We were always afraid that thing would break and he'd go sailing into the yard smashing every bone in his body.  I think my father really believed Josh wouldn't live to be 10 years old.  But he did.  The little guy is now 30.  And he's getting married.  Ah...but forget nostalgia.  Now the pressure's on for me to find a stinkin' dress to wear to his wedding and I haven't the foggiest idea of where to start.  What the heck is a cocktail dress?

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