No peanut-spitting pictures

Alas. We did not go the festival in Big Spring. This was partly due to it being 800 degrees everywhere but inside our hotel, and also to Big Spring being a desolate wasteland that you don’t want to spend a lot of time in.

Apologies to any Big Spring-ers. But while there are some potentially scenic ridges around town, graced with wind turbines, right outside of town is an oil refinery, and the air has a permanent sulfury-sweet smell that made you calculate how long until your lungs started sprouting cancer cells. (Hopefully, it’s more than 48 hours). Empty storefronts and houses line the main street, and the whole thing looks set to blow away as soon as the oil runs out. Or maybe sooner.

The wedding itself was gorgeous and sweet. Beforehand, my genius toddler decides that a candle flame is something he should try to put his hand into. He has no experience with fire, since we’ve held off on giving him a flamethrower until kindergarten, so there was some screaming. But not any blistering, thank goodness. Poor thing. Since it was my nephew’s wedding, Matt was appointed to wrestle and wrangle Nathan; we decided early on that they would stay in the vestibule or elsewhere in the church during the ceremony, because we love our son, but he is not ceremony-ready. I got to sit in the third row and watch my brother get all choked up while he married off his youngest son, and Matt and Nathan got to sneak into the church’s Sunday school rooms and play with all the toys.

All that would have been fine, except that I managed to trip, fall, and twist my ankle coming down some stairs after the ceremony. Most everyone had already left, but my brother came running to take care of me, and I think I managed to keep my cursing to “crap!” only, though my ankle did indeed hurt like a mofo. My pride hurt even more. I’m just never going to get used to skirts and heels.

So the reception was lovely, I reveled in my new nickname of Gimpy, and our little trio survived two nights in a strange place with a toddler who usually refuses to sleep anywhere but his crib. I start my new job tomorrow, and Nathan starts his new daycare. My nephew is married, and life moves on whether I want it to or not.