So I’ve been trying to write a new post for weeks now, without success. I’ve started I don’t know how many, and I just kept either getting angry, which is bad, or getting depressed, which is worse, about every one. Part of the problem was mostly, I was writing about politics. I’m having a hard time writing satirically about politics right now, mostly because the whole political system is already seeming like a “Spinal Tap”-style mockumentary.

But we just had a really good weekend here at Casa de Moon (see, those two semesters of college Spanish finally paid off), so I thought I’d just tell you about that instead. Like all weekends, it had its ups and downs, but for the most part, it was the best weekend I’ve had in quite a while.

It all started with my little brother David and his wife and kids coming up from Florida for his son, Jonathon’s wedding. They got here on Wednesday, and in honor of their visit, we had the whole family in (or at least all those who could make it) for Pizza King and cards. We had a great time, and a lot of laughs. It was totally worth all the housework I had to do to get ready. See that’s one of the problems with being a house-husband; my wife, the lovely and estimable Jess, still went into her pre-family gathering cleaning frenzy, but since she was working, I was the one who had to do the actual cleaning, and I’ll be honest, I’m not good at it. It all just seems so pointless. I look at it from a guy’s point of view; if company can visit without the fear of actually sticking to anything, then it’s clean enough (you guys know what I’m talking about). Jess, God bless ‘er, feels differently, so it turned into about a week of her leaving me a daily “honey-do” list, and me trying to figure out what she wanted done (define “dusting”, does she want a “guy” dusting, which is basically sweeping a hand across the front of the shelf, or does she want the full-on “Pledge and a dust-rag, take stuff off the shelf, instead of dusting around the stuff, even if it can’t be seen” kind? Guess which one she wanted. It only took me two tries to guess correctly.)

I felt she really got carried away with it. Every day, she’d put “put away dishes” on the list. Now I ask you, what’s the point of that? We used those plates last night, we’ll use them again tonight, and tomorrow night too, probably. It’s so much more convenient to just grab them out of the dish drainer than out of the cupboard. She even wanted me to vacuum the kitchen floor. Now what, I ask you, is the point of that? We have dogs (the poor man’s Roomba). But I digress.

So everybody got here, and we had a great time. Lots of laughs, everybody enjoyed themselves, and I almost won one game of “Up and Down the River”, our family game. It may be the bloodiest, most cut-throat non-gambling card games ever invented, and we play it every time we get more than 4 of us get together. One of these days, I’ll write up the rules for you, so that you too can enjoy the frustration and hilarity of having your throat cut by your 84 year old aunt.

Then came Friday, and the English geek bonfire. Another great time. Kind of a small showing, but a really good time. It was really good to have folks around who enjoy talking about books and writers and writing. It was, in some ways, an evening of discovery. For example, I discovered that I have regained my amateur standing as regards drinking. I was standing there, mumbling some inane story (my apologies to all those who were present), when it hit me; I’ve gotta pee. So I excused myself and wandered over to the trees to take care of business. While I stood there, leaning against the tree, talking to myself, it occurred to me, “I’m a lot drunker than I ought to be.” Then, as if to confirm the fact, it also occurred to me, “I think I need to puke.”

I was right. A couple of times. On the up side, I didn’t get any on me, or simultaneously soil myself in any other way, so I have not lost all my skills, but still, it was kind of disappointing. I haven’t drunk ’til I puked in years. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I did, so this came as a complete surprise. Shortly thereafter, the party broke up (it was pretty late, so I don’t think the two were necessarily related). At any rate, the painfully honest and beautiful but merciless Jess assured me that I was not being a jerk, so that was nice.

So we get back to the house and got ready for bed, and we realize that we’d forgotten to take our pills, so it’s back to the kitchen for that. Unfortunately, I missed my mouth with one of the pills. Naturally, it was one of the little, white ones, so even though we heard it hit the floor, it blended right in with the linoleum. Of course, that’s the problem with the poor man’s Roomba, they’ll eat anything, which is how we ended up crawling around on the floor, butt naked, at three o’clock in the morning, laughing like idiots. Especially when we figured out that we couldn’t find it because when I got down to look for it, it got stuck to my knee, and it was just moving around the floor with me.

So that was a pretty good night.

So Saturday morning, I wake up with a low-grade hangover (something else I haven’t had in years), and a wedding to go to. My nephew Jonathon, a great kid, was getting married to a very pretty and sweet girl named Jessica (which contributed to the Wednesday night hilarity greatly, trying to figure out how to differentiate between Jon’s Jess and my own lovely Jess. The first suggestion “new Jess and old Jess” was quickly shot down, as was “little Jess and big Jess”. I think we settled on “new Jess and classic Jess”), at the Indianapolis Yacht Club, which is hilarious in and of itself, kind of like the Florida Alpine Club.

As it happens though, David and I are also both fans of the comedy classic, Caddyshack. We grew up watching it over and over again. So it seemed a shame to miss the opportunity to pay homage to one of our primary formative influences. For the ceremony, itself, I went with the plain old suit and tie, out of respect, but for the reception, I ditched the tie for a Captain’s hat and cravat, going for the Judge Smails yacht-club boat christening look.

Apparently, Caddyshack is nowhere near as popular as it used to be. I was called Mr. Howell several times, as well as Skipper, and there were quite a few who apparently thought I was actually part of the Yacht Club, there to keep an eye on things. The funniest part was when they said that the table captain would be around to explain to each table the method of serving dinner, and everybody in the place looked at me. Still, a good time was had by all. It was a lovely ceremony, and everyone seemed to enjoy the reception a lot. I got to see some old friends that I haven’t seen outside of a funeral in years, which was nice. My granddaughter, little Sharon, really enjoyed line dancing with the bride, and I enjoyed watching.

Also, my oldest daughter Kim made it to the wedding, which was a surprise, as was her bright blue hair. When I was getting ready for the reception, she said, “Hey, I’ve got a captain’s hat in my car too!”

It also helped that my nephew is also a Caddyshack fan, and his lovely bride Jess has a great sense of humor.

All things considered, it was a great weekend, despite the fact that I had to keep explaining the whole Caddyshack thing. Looking back at the pictures from that evening, though, I can see how people might be inclined to think of the Skipper or Mr. Howell. What do you think?

At any rate, it’s an honor to be compared to any of these comedy giants!

So that’s pretty much it; a great weekend. My deep thanks (and apologies where necessary) to my family, friends, and fellow English geeks. I needed that.