Finished the lion cub's legs last night. Did not get them sewn up or on, because of a marathon phone call from my parents. (One of my cousins got married; I couldn't attend the wedding because of work. They wanted to fill me in on the wedding.)

all I can say is: I'm sorry I missed the wedding but not sorry I missed the reception. My parents said it was "loud." They described how the groom and his friends dug out some hard hats and sailor caps and did the Village People's "YMCA". My mother described the dancing that "the young people" did as "thrashing around on the dance floor."

the really funny thing is, age-wise, I would have been one of "the young people" (my cousin is 6 months older than me) but I would have been the one sitting at the very back of the reception hall, moaning "make it stop...I think my ears are starting to bleed."

not that I hate the Village People, mind you; it's that I hate "loud".

if I ever marry, I'm going to elope. And then hold a big potluck barbecue for all my friends in lieu of a reception. The mere phrase "pick out a d.j." makes me come out in an itchy red rash.