Are these your dogs?

Marriage was never something I thought much about. I didn’t make plans, I didn’t dream about it, I didn’t make weird scrapbooks of the magazine articles I liked. I don’t even have Pinterest. 

So the idea of a bachelorette party seemed like something that only happens to other people. Mostly people who are on reality TV shows. But I trust my “person” (we don’t have a wedding party, we just each have a person) Brie so much, that when she asked if we could have a bachelorette party, and she promised multiple times that no phallic necklaces would be involved, I said yes. 

And thank goodness I did. Brie managed to schedule the perfect weekend getaway to breathtaking Sun Valley for a weekend full of everything except traditional. Instead of having a bridal shower filled with lingerie and risque gifts, she planned an “adventure shower” where I was gifted wool underwear, hiking socks, trail maps, athletic wear and everything else I will need for a marriage full of adventuring! Ok, there was ONE book that snuck its way in that fell into the traditional bachelorette party category. However, it did have an adventurous theme! (A literary classic by the name of “A Walk in the Woods”, NOT the one by Bill Bryson, if anyone wants to borrow it.)

Although the weekend was full of fun and laughter, Brie also managed to make it completely inspirational and special. When I was gifted this book with letters from Mike, my sisters, and friends I lost it. There was no drunk screeching, no slurred speeches, and no hideous tiara upon my head. Just me, sobbing at the end of the table, feeling like the luckiest woman alive.

10270314_10101294077759841_8026890868040726527_n

I felt like that for most of the weekend. Although not all my loved ones could make it, I knew the group that was with me represented the amazing tribe I get to call my friends and family. They made me laugh until my face ached. They made me stay up way past my bedtime. They made everyone around them feel special and  cherished. They are pure kindness.

In fact, maybe even too kind. Because when we were sitting down at the kitchen table of our rental house enjoying some delicious watermelon/mint/vodka cocktails, and in stumbled two drunk women and two dogs, all unannounced, all without knocking, and all strangers to us, we let them. When they slurred that they were the neighbors and they were crashing our party we still let them. We answered their questions without the slightest hint of annoyance, even when they had already asked the same question four times before. We timidly raised our hands when they demanded “show of hands, who is glad we’re here.” We hid our amusement that one of them kept proclaiming herself a writer and used it to justify every weird statement out of her mouth. We listened, and applauded upon demand, Brie’s hairstyle that they loved so much. We pretended not to notice when they fell off bar stools. We watched them pour themselves generous glasses of vodka. We exhibited pure patience and neighborly love until they used their bare hands to grab chunks of our expensive cheese. We draw the line at cheese. We also drew the line when they confided in us their dog had been experiencing explosive diarrhea all day. The same dog that was under the table. When our new friends finally wore us thin and attempted to exit for the evening, one looked at the dogs who had come in with them and asked us “Are these your dogs?”

It became our barometer for the rest of the weekend.

“On a scale of 1-Are these your dogs, how much have you had to drink?”

A huge thank you to my amazing person Brie, all my friends that made it and those that couldn’t be there, and a very, very generous friend that made this weekend financially feasible. I will always remember this weekend with a huge smile and a full heart. 

On a scale of 1-Are these you dogs?, I had an “Are these your dogs?” weekend. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s