A Weekend Follow Up

What I thought would be a quick, simple wedding setup wound up taking most of Saturday. Sweet Bubba gave me his whole day as my right-hand man, except for one brief moment when we were loading the cars that he went missing and I found him around the side of the house digging a hole. I told Mom about this and she just said, "Yeah, they do that sometimes."

We took this happy girl...

... out to Bowens Island, a beloved shack that Brett has never been too. Over the years I've carpooled Brett to many lavish, luxurious venues. He's become accustomed to an oak driveway ending at a Southern mansion. We pulled up in the Bowens parking lot and Brett said, "Oh my goodness. This place is a dump!" and he said it loud.
"Shhh!" I sneered, "That's the point."
Brett had a chip on his shoulder about this venue all day. Ne'ertheless he helped me dress up the old dock house with white drapes and greenery, then he hung golden hoops, and finally he set the tables. He didn't need me at all. I mostly fluttered around him in circles, checking my watch and going over all the things that needed to be done.

When we came back at 11:00 to clean, we found a bunch of wandering drunks in formalwear, but I got almost all of my vases back so I mark the whole thing as a victory. 

On Sunday, Brett became determined to get that propane tank out of our yard. So he dug and he tugged. He dug some more, and when the time was right Papa Union came over with wild delight in his eyes. They hooked that tank up to the Jeep and drove it right up out of the hole. Then they admired their work. 

"Now what?" I said, staring at the rusty submarine smashing one of my few grassy sections.

"Well," Dad said, "I don't know!" and he let out a hearty guffaw. 

"We could roll it on pillings," Brett said, "like  medieval times."

"Uh huh." Dad grunted. He was deep in thought.

"Let's get it into the trailer." Brett suggested.

"But how. We can't lift it."

Assuming I'd be glancing out at the Iron Maiden for the next week or so, I left the guys in the backyard and went to the grocery store. 

When I came home, I found the tank here ...

... and Dad was climbing out of an oak tree.

"Why do I get the feeling I missed something extraordinary?" I said. They both just beamed at me.

That evening we went home for Sunday Dinner where Dad and Brett recounted that one time they pulled an old propane tank from the earth and hung it from an oak tree. 

I guess they just do that sometimes.