Friends

  • The Gang

    I spent the week before Caroline’s birthday awash in nostalgia. So I decided to just go ahead and give into a good crying jag and watch the slideshow I made for her fifth birthday. The only problem was it no longer exists. I never actually ordered it on DVD (dang me and my procrastination tendencies) and I guess it reached some sort of statute of limitations and One True Media took the liberty of deleting it.

    Cue the tears and lamenting and the would have, could have, should haves.

    The worst part was that I’d saved all those photos on a hard drive and deleted them from my computer because it tends to have memory issues. I’m sure this could be remedied with the purchase of additional memory, but that would require me to have a conversation with someone about technology and life is too short.

    Thus, I began the tedious process of scanning photos back onto the computer and uploading images from various places. It was as fun as you might imagine. Yet I was determined to recreate the whole thing with the addition of two more years of life.

    But along the way I noticed how many photos there were of Caroline, Jackson and Will over the years and thought it might be fun to make a little slideshow of The Gang. Fun might be an overstatement. I just felt compelled to capture all the memories.

    Jackson and Will have taught Caroline what it’s like to have brothers. They love and they laugh. They wrestle and they fight. They argue over who gets to sit in the backseat and they roll their eyes at their mothers when they think we’re not paying attention.

    I believe Caroline has taught the boys that having a sister means there is always a good chance for tears and drama when you’re not even sure what you did wrong. And that having a girl around makes your world a little bit sweeter.

    Even if it’s a girl that can burp as loud as you.

    _____________________________________________________

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  • This post makes War and Peace seem like a brief essay

    So I never really finished recounting all the details of our Road Trip Extravaganza last week because exhaustion set in sometime around Wednesday evening and I needed to reserve all my strength to maintain any shred of control. Also, Gulley and I were spending our nights contemplating how we feel about jean leggings, Frank turning into a woman on The Bachelorette, and our thoughts on the new financial regulations passed by Congress. I’ll let you guess which topic took up the lion’s share of our discussion time.

    But I feel like I need to complete the recap of the trip for posterity. And also because I have nothing else to write about.

    We kept things fairly tame on Wednesday because Will was recovering from his stomach bug and we weren’t entirely sure the rest of us weren’t going to be struck down at some point. However, that didn’t stop us from taking the kids to Gattiland to eat lunch and accumulate massive amounts of tickets in the arcade to be traded in for toys that make Happy Meal toys seem like Faberge eggs by comparison.

    Caroline had never experienced the Gattiland buffet before and was fascinated that you’re required to get a new plate every time you go back for more food. By the end of our lunch we had twenty-seven used plates on our table and I think fourteen of them belonged to her. I’ll spare you the picture I took of the table filled with plates because I just looked at it and it made me feel like I might dry heave.

    On Thursday morning we loaded the kids in the car for a day trip to Brenham to see my Nanny. The plan was for Gulley to take the kids to tour the Blue Bell Creamery while I visited with my ninety-two-year-old grandmother, but Nanny was quick to let us know she’d like for us to take her to Casa Ole’ for lunch. So we busted her out of the retirement home to get some Mexican food and everything went swimmingly except for the part where Gulley and I both let go of her walker as we were helping her back in the car and had to chase it across the parking lot.

    After lunch, Gulley and the kids headed to Blue Bell. She took a lot of pictures of the kids but I forgot to upload them to my computer so I have no evidence they were ever there. You just have to trust that I wouldn’t lie about a visit to a creamery to make our lives seem more exotic and glamorous.

    I did, however, get a picture of Caroline with Nanny.

    We woke up on Friday morning and weren’t totally sure what our plans were for the day. Initially, the kids wanted to go see a movie, but then started to lean towards swimming at Adamson Lagoon. Surprisingly, none of them were interested in my suggestion that we all drink a nice bottle of wine and take a nap.

    But then Jackson asked for the Sports page and saw that the Brazos Valley Bombers had a home game scheduled for Friday evening. Caroline and Will were playing outside, but Jackson immediately began to beg us to attend the baseball game. We told him we needed to talk about it (which is Mama code for figuring out if there is a way for us to get out of this) and he took two steps away from us to let us discuss it. Gulley told him to go outside and let us talk privately. Three seconds later he came sweeping through the back door and loudly proclaimed, “ALL THE KIDS WANT TO GO TO THE BOMBERS GAME. WE’RE GOING TO THE BOMBERS GAME!” And then he ran back outside while I yelled at the closed door, “WE ARE STILL IN CHARGE! WE ARE HANGING ON BY A VERY THIN THREAD BUT WE ARE STILL IN CHARGE.”

    So that’s how we ended up going to the Brazos Valley Bombers baseball game on Friday night.

    I’ll be honest, I love baseball. I particularly love college baseball. But I was not excited about sitting out in the heat and humidity to watch a baseball game in July. However, I was totally wrong because the whole night ended up being magical.

    The kids got to have their picture taken with Kaboom the Bombers’ mascot.

    And with Cookie Monster.

    We’re not sure what Cookie had to do with anything, but I’d be willing to bet upwards of $5.00 that someone happened to have an old Cookie Monster costume lying around and the team figured kids wouldn’t care that a monster who binges on cookies has nothing to do with baseball. (Although both could be considered America’s favorite past time.)

    The kids even got chosen by one of The Bombshells (the official team hostesses) to lead the crowd in Take Me Out to the Ballgame during the seventh inning stretch.

    And I managed to catch a t-shirt and a ball thrown to the crowd. I was en fuego. Although I have to confess I may have let my competitive nature get the best of me and jumped in front of a little boy to catch the ball. I felt so bad about it that Gulley finally told me I needed to re-read So Long, Insecurity.

    I also have to confess that I sat back down on Caroline’s ice cream after I caught the t-shirt. Nothing humbles a girl in a triumphant moment like some Cookies-N-Cream on the booty.

    The evening ended with a spectacular fireworks display after the game. Honestly, the whole night was the highlight of the trip. It was like everything that makes America and parenthood great all wrapped in one package.

    But it was late by the time we headed back to Honey and Big’s house. The kids were tired but yet all hyped up from the heady cocktail of kettle corn, baseball and fireworks. Gulley looked at me and said, “OH BRITNEY”.

    Years ago, on the show Will and Grace, there was a character named Beverly Leslie. He was a marginal character but, in a line that turned out to be totally prophetic, he once said of Britney Spears, “OH BRITNEY. This is not going to end well.”

    Gulley and I both embraced that line and now anytime we are witness to a scenario that doesn’t really bode well for a happy ending, one of us will look at the other and say, “OH BRITNEY” and we immediately know there’s a good chance we’re about to witness a meltdown.

    Fortunately, we were able to get everyone bathed and in bed before the fond moments of the evening were a distant memory.

    The next morning we packed up the car after a nutritious breakfast of chocolate-iced donuts and kolaches from Shipley’s and began the trek back to San Antonio. Gulley plugged her iPod into the car stereo and we began to sing along to our favorite songs. The kids suddenly realized they were no longer listening to a steady rotation of Crazytown and Party in the U.S.A. and began to call out their song suggestions.

    That’s when Gulley announced, “WE ARE CURRENTLY NOT TAKING ANY REQUESTS”.

    The kids all began to whine about our music selections, but we were not backing down. The radio suddenly became a symbol of our need to assert our ability to do what we wanted to do without having any input from three people who aren’t even five feet tall. We were giddy with our stereo coup d’etat and as Gulley began to play Michael Jackson’s P.Y.T., I looked back at the kids and announced, “IT’S ABOUT TO GET REAL ALL UP IN HERE”.

    Secretly, it’s one of those moments I hope becomes part of their childhood lore. They’ll all get together and talk about old times and one of them will ask, “Do you remember the summer we were on that road trip and your mom announced it was about to get real all up in here?” And then they’ll all die laughing, but might secretly think Gulley and I were pretty cool.

    Of course the fact we chose to listen to You’re The Reason God Made Oklahoma immediately following P.Y.T. might hurt our case.

  • Birthday club

    Five years ago, Gulley had a three-year-old little boy and a four-month-old baby and was about to celebrate her thirty-third birthday. Although I use the term “celebrate” loosely because I don’t know how much celebrating anyone does when you have a toddler and a newborn in the house. Crying? Yes. Celebrating? Not unless the grandparents show up and offer to stay for the weekend.

    I decided that what she really needed for her birthday was a girls’ night out and so set about making plans to get a group of her girlfriends together to go out for Mexican food. Honestly, I didn’t even know most of the other girls at all except in passing because they were friends she’d met through someone other than me. (That’s kind of the way our friendship has worked for the last twenty years; Gulley is the more outgoing one and so she’s in charge of making all the new friends and then I just take them on as my friends. It’s a process that has worked beautifully.)

    But we all had such a great time at dinner that someone suggested we should go out once a month. And so we have for the last five years. We call ourselves Birthday Club because our original intent was to celebrate each member’s birthday. Our husbands like to point out that there are only six of us and yet we have a birthday to celebrate twelve months out of the year. To which we respond “YOU’LL BE QUIET AND QUIT QUESTIONING THE MATH IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU” as we walk out the door to go eat chips and queso.

    What I love the most is that we never really schedule our dinners. We just know at some point in the month someone will email everyone else and say, “I’M ABOUT TO LOSE MY MIND IF I DON’T GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE FOR AN EVENING” and we’ll all check our calendars until we find the closest night that works for everyone.

    (Apparently Birthday Club uses ALL CAPS in my mind. If you could hear how loud we are when we get together you’d understand.)

    At our dinner in May we realized we were about to celebrate our five year anniversary and all agreed we wanted to do something fun to commemorate all that we’ve been through together. Over the last five years we’ve gone from six kids between us to having six more, we’ve survived house remodels, miscarriages, and deaths of loved ones. We’ve discussed everything from our thoughts on Matt Lauer to the Real Housewives to the trials of potty-training to struggles with postpartum depression.

    Basically, we’ve covered it all.

    So this past Friday we checked into two rooms at the Westin La Cantera Resort to celebrate five years of friendship. And, let me tell you, by the time I arrived I was in desperate need of some girl time. Caroline has mastered the art of guilt and told me before I left that she wanted to watch me walk away because it was “the last time I’ll see you walking before tomorrow” and “it seems like you would want to come home to your child”. It was slightly dramatic considering that I’d be gone less than 18 hours and she was spending the night with Mimi and Bops which is the equivalent of being at a theme park with a full-service wait staff who serve rootbeer floats at regular intervals.

    Anyway, we arrived at the hotel and it took us approximately 4.3 seconds to change into our bathing suits and head down to the adults-only pool armed with sunscreen, big floppy hats and a few copies of People and InStyle magazine. As it turned out, we didn’t need the magazines because we never quit talking while we sat piled together on six lounge chairs looking out at the incredible view of the Texas Hill Country.

    Later on we ate dinner and then headed back to our rooms where we had an in-depth discussion about all the ways we do not understand what the kids are listening to on the radio these days. Who is Ke$ha with a dollar sign? Where did Justin Beiber come from and why can’t we get his song out of our head? What does it say about us that we can look through a People magazine and not know who half the people are or why they are famous for this particular fifteen minutes?

    Then our friend Julie revealed that she doesn’t own a DVR which caused us all to have a few moments of silence as we pondered what our own lives would look like without it. To make matters worse, she asked, “Is that the thing that lets you rewind shows while you’re watching them?”

    Listen, we are all praying for her.

    After staying up laughing and talking way too late, Steph woke us up the next morning after she returned from her morning workout (we’re praying for her, too) and we all went down to eat breakfast. Which is where this unfortunate picture was taken.

    I don’t know why Tweety Bird chose to come over to our table since, clearly, we were child-free and there were plenty of other surrounding tables with children just dying to get in on some Tweety Bird photo action. Yet Tweety kept loitering by our table and waving awkwardly until our friend Amy finally pulled out her camera and took a picture of Gulley and me with Tweety just to appease him. And after all that, poor Tweety misjudged the direction of his eyes and posed looking in the wrong direction. Also, is it just me or does that waiter in the background look like he’s in the midst of some deep thoughts? Maybe he was wondering why a table full of grown women wanted a picture with Tweety Bird.

    Sadly, I only got about another hour by the pool before it was time to go home to my child and chauffeur her to 164 different birthday parties on Saturday afternoon. But it was so much fun while it lasted.

    Now we’re just trying to figure out how we can upgrade our monthly dinners to a monthly sleepover at a nice hotel. Something tells me that’s going to be a hard sell, but we may be able to provide a convincing argument if we put together a budget chart showing how much money we’ve saved each other in professional therapy bills.

    When you look at it that way, the hotel room essentially pays for itself.

  • Pool towel bingo

    The air-conditioning is working again.

    I repeat, the air-conditioning is working.

    The guy showed up around noon yesterday to install the new motor. He also checked out our other unit to make sure it wasn’t circling the drain and said everything looked good. Then, on the way out the door, he said, “Just make sure you call us this winter before you turn on your heat. Your unit is over seven years old and that’s around the time it can crack and cause carbon monoxide to leak throughout your home and you’ll go to bed one night and never wake up.”

    Wow. I was not expecting that.

    Needless to say, all my neurotic tendencies kicked in and I turned to November 1st in my planner and penciled in, “Call to get heat checked so we don’t all die”. You have to admit he knew his audience.

    Anyway, I’m feeling much better today and not just because it no longer feels like I’m sitting on the equator. Gulley knew I needed a little time to myself (mainly because I might have called her crying yesterday and said, “I just need a few hours to myself.”) and offered to pick up Caroline from soccer camp and let her play with Jackson and Will for a little while.

    I felt so bad saying I needed a little time to myself but ever since summer began Caroline has been in love with me. She wants to be everywhere I am and there is no such thing as personal space. And while I am so thankful and love her more than life itself, we’ve been inseparable for the better part of a month and the introvert who lives inside me just needed a little time to breathe. (Yes, I am a little bit of an introvert. I just play an extrovert on the internet.)

    Later on in the afternoon, I met Gulley and the kids at the pool. We swam and watched the kids jump off the diving board and caught up on important current events like General McChrystal’s resignation, the earthquake in Canada, why the local sportscasters only talk about the Spurs and not the College World Series, and which bachelor we think Ali should choose. (Chris L. is the frontrunner with Roberto at a distant second.)

    After we were worn out from swimming, we ate dinner at the pool and while we were finishing up we heard Coach announce that it was time for “almost moonlight bingo”. Listen, we had no idea that it was bingo night at the pool. It was just a gift from God.

    Will was beside himself and immediately yelled “YAHOO BINGO!!” and hit Gulley up for a dollar so he could play. He had his game face on and repeated everything Coach said with great enthusiasm. “I-64!!! G-7!!! N-22!!!”

    Then P got up to go refill his water and Coach saw him walk up and started calling his name over the loudspeaker, “P! COME AND GET YOUR BINGO CARD, P! TIME FOR P TO PLAY A LITTLE BINGO!”

    Caroline thought it was the most hysterical thing she’d ever experienced.

    When Jackson and Caroline saw how much Will was enjoying his game of Bingo they decided to play as well.

    Although they lacked a little of his passion for the game. Ultimately they got up and wandered back off to the pool to swim a little bit more. Then Will decided to follow them.

    So there Gulley and I sat, just the two of us, playing our Bingo cards. She looked at me and said, “I guess this is a glimpse of our future at the retirement community.”

    And then we laughed until we cried.

    It was a good day.

  • Big things in small things

    I’m just going to go ahead and prepare you that this week may be a week of schmaltz and sentiment. Maybe it’s because I’ve had a lot of emotional moments this past weekend or maybe it’s because I’m in the middle of a horrendous bout of PMS. Or maybe it’s because I had to go to church yesterday morning without sufficient time to fix my hair the way I wanted because P thinks the bathroom is a place to catch up on his reading.

    Most likely, it’s some combination therein. Just be warned, SCHMALTZY.

    Which is actually the word I need to use instead of just plain schmaltz since I just looked up schmaltz on wikipedia to make sure I wasn’t going to inadvertently offend anyone and discovered that schmaltz refers to rendered goose fat. Rest assured, there will never be a week that I will focus on rendered goose fat. Especially in light of all my issues with poultry.

    Last Thursday night, my friend A.J. had a date. She’s been in town for all the Fiesta events because she is the official photographer for King Antonio, but on Thursday she was actually attending a party in a non-official capacity. She was just going as a girl with a date.

    She told Gulley and I about the event weeks ago and we begged her to let us do her hair and makeup because we enjoy living vicariously through people who have a social life. It’s not that she isn’t capable of doing her own hair and makeup, but she is a little bit of a tomboy and just can’t be bothered with all that girly stuff most of the time.

    And, honestly, it works for her. She is a natural beauty.

    This is her before shot:

    Can you tell she was so pleased that I wanted to document the experience with photos?

    She showed up at Gulley’s house with freshly washed, damp hair, so I told her we needed to blow dry her hair before we could do anything else and asked, “Did you already put some product in it?”

    “What do you mean product? I used shampoo and conditioner.”

    “You know product? Like volumnizer or some type of styling serum?”

    “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

    Clearly, I have heretofore failed her as a friend and a mentor.

    We introduced her to the power and wonder of styling products and then Gulley began to blow dry her hair. And then I got serious with the hot rollers because that’s how I roll. (Every time. I’m powerless against the pun.)

    She began to look a little nervous so I assured her that it was not my intent to make her look like a member of the cast of Hee-Haw and she said, “What’s Hee-Haw?”

    Then I cried because I am old. And I vividly remember a day (yesterday) when I would openly mock people who make dated cultural references.

    After I secured all the rollers in her hair, Gulley took over with the makeup. Because while I feel secure in my ability to do good hair (name that movie), I’m not as confident when it comes to doing anyone’s makeup other than my own. And, honestly, I could use a lesson in the proper application of eye makeup.

    Gulley began to apply foundation to A.J.’s face while I sat on the edge of the bed and watched. All of a sudden I looked down and noticed she was wearing a pair of camo Toms. Knowing she had open-toed shoes for the party I asked, “Have you painted your toenails?”

    “Yes.”

    Oh, but I know her.

    “When?”

    “I don’t know. A few weeks ago.”

    We made her take off the Toms and the polish was totally chipped and unacceptable. At first she attempted to paint them herself. Even though she totally balked at the hot pink polish I picked out.

    But eventually Gulley couldn’t stand it and took over.

    We are nothing if not a full service operation.

    It was around this time that Caroline and Will came running into the bedroom, stopped right in their tracks and Will yelled, “What are you doing to Alissa?”

    I said, “We’re making her look pretty. She has a date tonight.”

    As they ran back out of the room, I heard Caroline tell Will, “Dates are disgusting. She might kiss a boy. I don’t EVER want to go on a date.”

    Don’t think I’m not going to remind her she said that when she’s fifteen and begging to meet some boy at the movies.

    Ultimately, the makeup was applied, the hair was teased and sprayed until I depleted the ozone, and she was ready to go. We wanted her date to pick her up at Gulley’s house but she declined for some reason. I hope it didn’t have anything to do with the kids’ belief that a whoopee cushion is the best way to break in a new acquaintance.

    Here’s the back of her hair. I only stabbed her with about sixty bobby pins before it was all said and done.

    We made her put on one more swipe of lipgloss, hugged her, gushed about how beautiful she looked and sent her on her way. And then we cried just a little bit.

    Because here’s the thing. Thursday night was the three year anniversary of her mother’s death from pancreatic cancer. And her mother was one of the most loving, beautiful women I’ve ever known. She had a smile that could light up a room and a way of making everyone she came in contact with feel like they were the most special person she’d ever met. In the time that I knew her she taught me so much about being a good wife and mother just by her actions.

    A.J. is such a tomboy, but her mother was more of a girly girl. There were many times when we’d walk out the door to go somewhere and she’d holler, “Don’t forget to put on some lipstick!” or “Get back in here and put on some earrings!”

    At the time Gulley and I pleaded to do A.J.’s hair and makeup for the party, neither of us realized the significance of the day. We just thought it would be fun. And when it did dawn on us, neither of us knew if we should even bring it up.

    But that night as we rolled her hair and helped her with her eyeliner, she said, “Kay is up in heaven dancing with Jesus because y’all are making me paint my toenails hot pink.”

    This story isn’t about Gulley and me helping A.J. get ready for a date. It’s about God’s faithfulness.

    Gulley and I met A.J. twelve years ago when we were chaperoning a ski trip and she was a fifteen-year old girl who fascinated us with her stories of spending summers doing Outward Bound Adventure camps and using leaves as toilet paper. Honestly, I think we got on her nerves with all our questions, but she was the closest thing to a pioneer that we’d ever encountered and we were fascinated.

    Back then none of us could have known what the next twelve years would bring. We couldn’t have imagined that her mother would be gone and she might need a few women in her life to fill just a little bit of that gap. But God knew.

    Even though Thursday night was just about some hot pink nail polish and lipstick, it was a reminder for me of how faithful He is even in the small things. A reminder that He sees the whole picture even when we don’t and to everything there is indeed a time, a plan, a purpose.

    And plenty of hair product.

  • It’s a long story

    Yesterday I spent most of the day trying to adapt to being back in the real world. A world full of dirty laundry, floors that needed to be swept, bathrooms that needed to be cleaned and groceries that didn’t magically appear in my kitchen cabinets. To make matters worse, when I finally emerged from a huge pile of laundry and made it to the grocery store, I went to pay for my groceries only to discover that I’d left my wallet at home. Long story short, reality made me her circus monkey.

    But enough about my grocery store woes. At least until tomorrow when I may feel the need to talk about them ad nauseam.

    On Friday morning I woke up in New York. Sophie and I had a few hours to walk around the city before we had to head to the airport. So, naturally, we ate some breakfast and then treated ourselves to cupcakes to sustain us as we walked the streets of Manhattan. I took a couple of pictures that seemed to exemplify all that is good and right about the city.

    Dear H&M, I think I’ll miss you most of all. My only regret is that we didn’t have more time together. You have my heart.

    But I had a plane to catch.

    Sophie gently pulled me out of H&M and we grabbed a cab to take us to La Guardia. I felt fairly certain there was a 42% chance that I was going to die in that cab and deeply regretted that my last moments would be filled with the smell of old garlic and body odor.

    Thankfully, we arrived safely at the airport and I boarded a flight to Dallas because one of my dearest friends and college roommate was getting married. Gulley and I had originally planned to drive to Dallas together, but when the trip to New York came up we decided that I’d just fly in to Dallas and then we could ride back to San Antonio together at the end of the weekend. I don’t know why I feel the need to include all these travel details because they really have nothing to do with anything but I can’t stop myself from typing all the words and already erased an entire paragraph where I detailed what I bought at the gift shop at La Guardia. (Gardetto Honey Mustard Snack Mix, US Weekly, and People StyleWatch!) I have a compulsive need to overshare meaningless details.

    But I will tell you about the bride because it’s a lovely story.

    Jen, Gulley and I lived together for two years in college. Gulley didn’t actually pay rent one of those years because her true place of residence was the dorm, but we felt it was our duty to spare her from having to go home to the dorm every night so she just became our unofficial roommate. Jen was everything Gulley and I weren’t. She was known to actually study for exams and even miss football games to work on projects. She managed to make it through college without knowing all the characters on Saved By The Bell or having a VIP card to any of the bars in College Station.

    After graduation, we all remained close friends. Jen spent the next several years pursuing her career ambitions and I spent that time doling out questionable financial advice to unsuspecting clients until P and I got married in August 1997. Then I switched careers and doled out questionable pharmaceutical advice to unsuspecting doctors.

    Eventually all of our college friends settled down, got married and started having babies. Jen remained single. She’d call and tell us about an occasional date, but the right one never seemed to come along. But instead of pouting over her singleness and distancing herself from her married friends, Jen always showed up. She came and rocked our babies and invested in our lives. She took mission trips to Africa, taught Bible study at her church, and began doing inner city ministry work.

    About two years ago, she brought a guy named Scott to spend the weekend at AJ’s ranch. They’d been dating for a few months and things seemed pretty serious. There was talk of marriage.

    But they broke up. He didn’t know if he was ready to make a commitment and things just fell apart. She was heartbroken, but trusted that God must have something else for her life.

    Eighteen months later, on January 10, I received a text message from Jen that read “Scott and I just got engaged!” And I texted back, “Did I miss something? I didn’t even know y’all were dating again.” (Because, listen, if anyone is going to miss some kind of major detail, it’s me.)

    I hadn’t missed anything.

    Scott and Jen had spent the last eighteen months apart, but he never quit thinking about her. Ultimately, he decided he didn’t want to spend his life without Jen. So he went to her mama and asked for permission to marry Jen. He bought an engagement ring. And then a few days later, he showed up and told Jen he needed to talk to her. He said that he knew she was the girl for him, placed the ring on the dashboard of the car and said he was ready to put it on her finger the moment she was ready.

    And in typical Jen fashion, she began screaming, “I’M READY!! I’M READY!!”

    IT’S LIKE A SCENE RIGHT OUT OF A MOVIE.

    So he got down on one knee, placed the ring on her finger and they got married this past Sunday at 2:00. It was a day filled with love and close friends and family. It was a day that we’d all been waiting and hoping for.

    Since Jen’s dad passed away when we were in college, she walked down the aisle alone. As she got to the halfway point, Scott left the front of the church, went to meet her and walked her the rest of the way. And everyone broke into applause. It was one of my favorite wedding moments ever.

    This is Gulley, Jen, Jamie and me after the rehearsal.

    And here’s the bride on her big day.

    It’s hard to tell from the huge smile, but I think she’s pretty happy.