Broken Head--Introduction

Through the miracle of find and replace, I was able to change names and other personal information in my Broken Head story.  I will post a new chapter each day.  Sorry, I don't really have any pictures to go along with most of the posts.

It all began with gel and hair spray–remember this as an important component of the story.

            JohnDeere and I stood up with CJ and Mr. Painter at their wedding on September 25, 2010 at Our home town United Methodist Church.  Us girls showed up at 9:00 a.m. to have our hair done.  I took my laptop to make a CD to play in the sanctuary while people were being seated, and I brought some papers to grade to keep me occupied since I was sure there would be down-time.  Of course there wasn’t any extra time because we were all talking and doing our make-up, but hey, I made an attempt.

            Around lunchtime I went to help Pam get things around.  I talked to the boys as they headed out to inspect A friend’s wrecked truck.  The night before, in the Collamar curves, after a night of partying, he ran off the road and hit a tree. 

            They came back, we ate, I made JohnDeere’s hair pretty, we went through the ceremony, stood in the receiving line (my feet hurt so badly I wanted to cry–so I begged Chellie to switch me shoes as she went through the line), finished pictures at the church, then headed to the reception hall (PAL Club, A neighboring town).

            When we arrived at the reception, we took more pictures, ate, and I gave a speech about how marriage is like a wedding cake.  I said that even though both people represent different layers of different flavors, their ultimate job is to support each other and keep it sweet!  Little did I know that I would soon eat those words–literally.

            We finished off the night drinking and dancing.  JohnDeere and I had fun as we worked up a sweat “dirty” dancing–then he was my own personal air conditioner as we slow-danced and he sweetly blew the sweat off my brow.

            Everybody seemed to leave early and we started cleaning up around 10:00 p.m.  We threw away all of the tablecloths, put up the tables and chairs, and cleaned up all the vases.  As things were finishing up–around 11:00–we’re nothing if not efficient–I was in the kitchen searching for leftover snacks.  I loaded up a coffee filter with Chex mix and headed back into the main room to see what else needed done–secretly hoping they said “nothing; you can go home.”

            As I munched and walked across the room to find someone (it seemed like no one was around) I noticed a few people walking out the big door at the other end of the building.  I passed Lydia (Mr. Painter’ niece) and I said, “Where are they going?”  She said that her dad had come in and said something about a guy falling out of a truck and they were going to see.  I asked, “They’re going somewhere/leaving–or do WE have an emergency?”  She said, “I think it’s here,” so I headed out, too.  I knew if it was at the reception it meant someone I cared about was involved.