I just hope we don't end up with 50 pounds of pasta salad and three baked potatos.

My sister is getting married tomorrow in true Gabriola Island, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants style.

She's got the man.

She's got the dress.

She's got his ring.

All very good things.

Friends are supplying flowers.

Someone (not sure who!) is playing music. More good things!

They applied for a marriage licence (very important!).

They have an officiant.

They *should* have sunshine for their outdoor ceremony.

They have a hall booked for the reception.

Now... food. Um, yes. Food. Oh, right! It's very low-key wedding, so mom offered to cook a few roasts and set up the kitchen for the night's festivities. Other guests have signed up to bring along the rest. I just hope we don't end up with 50 pounds of pasta salad and three baked potatoes.

But the bride had a back-up plan. "Don't worry, Mom, if we run out of food we'll just order pizza." God I love my sister. I was a nervous neurotic mess at my wedding. She is calm and peaceful the day before, not worrying about anything (including the things she maybe SHOULD be worried about!)

Somehow I got the grand honour of transporting the wedding favours: 120 chocolates. You see, the favours would have cost close to $500 if purchased on or near Gabriola Island. But our local chocolate shop offered them to us for just over $200.

It's worth a $300 savings to transport them (inside a car loaded with a toddler and all his gear, one Scarlett O'Hara style bridesmaid's dress, my hubby, etc., etc...). Except that our little car has no air conditioning?. My sister may be awarding mini chocolate fondues to every guest.

Congratulations to Angela & J. May you have many years of melted chocolate memories, enough good food and good guests to get you hitched without a hitch, and nothing buy joy for the next hundred years.

It wouldn't be proper to send you off into marriage without a little Irish luck to get you through the big day:

May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings, slow to make enemies and quick to make friends. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

It's not a park, it's a golf course. And no, you can't play in the sand trap.

It's not his fault. Not really. We've trained Little Man to identify large grass fields as "parks". So of course he expects to frolic across the well-watered fields of the nearby golf course on a hot summer's day.

It was so humid out I could actually feel my elbows sweating. You didn't think elbows could do that, did you? Well they're not just a couple of funny bones.... when it hits 35 degrees out, they, too, will sweat. And if my elbows were perspiring, my poor little man must have been dying under his mop of curls, his giant sun hat, and the stifling confines of his neon green stroller.

"Pawk! I play, momma?"

"It's a golf course, sweetie. We can't play there."

"Pawk, pawk, pawk!" he insisted.

"Golf course, golf course, golf course!" I crowed right back.

Little Man is not easily dissuaded. Upon seeing a group of golfers congregating around hole 9, he tried to leap from his stroller. "HOCKEY!!!! HOCKEY Park! I play too? More? More? Puyyyyyyyeaaaaase Momma?"

Sigh. There's no use. The boy loves hockey. How am I supposed to explain to the lad that golfers use a long stick to maneuver a small ball into a hole while hockey players use a long stick to maneuver a small ball into a net. Same difference to a not-quite two year old.

"Not yet. You can golf when you're bigger," I try and reassure him. "I bigger now? I ready!" he exclaimed.

The walk continued in silence for 2.8 seconds until he spotted the sand trap. "Sandbox! Momma? I play? Pyease?"

He gazed hopefully at a stranded golfer in said sand trap. He even elicited a smile from the man (who was cursing under his breath) after imploring him, "I play you? Hockey now?"

"Sorry, honey, it's a park, not a golf course. And no, you can't play in the sand trap."

I won't even start on his reaction to the water hazard....

For future reference, all walks with Little Man will occur AFTER night falls, far from the call of the golf course.

Welcoming Baby Girl

I am very happy to announce the arrival of my first niece. Proud parents Steve & Julia welcomed their daughter (name TBA) on Saturday, July 18th 2009. She arrived one month early and weighed a stellar 7 pounds 1 ounce. Despite arriving early, she's the picture of health and has lovely curly blonde hair... but no name!

Maybe it's because she was one month early.... I can give them a day or two's grace. But it's been three days, and this first-time Aunty is going crazy with anticipation. (To Steve's credit, he says they want to devote a lot of time and consideration before naming her.... well, okay then, but hurry it up please! I'm dying to know!)

During my congratulatory phone call, Steve seemed apologetic for not having a name yet. "Don't worry," I tried to reassure him. "Mom and Dad didn't have a name for you for the first two weeks either." He snorted, thinking I was kidding. Except I wasn't. (Actually, it was more like three or four days, but still.... he had to wait, too!)

So welcome to the clan, baby No-Name. We can't wait to meet you and watch you grow. All our love to you, little one. Best wishes to the beautiful new family.

~~Leprechauns, castles, good luck and laughter.Lullabies, dreams and love ever after.~~