The Baby Boomer Renaissance: Going Like Sixty

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Going Like Sixty

Nails Trimmed, Bordello Shot, Left Blood Behind, She Said “You’re a Fatty” and Dot Indian Wedding

Posted: 21 Aug 2010 01:14 PM PDT

Saturday checklist:

nails trimmed
bordello shot
left blood behind
woman said “You’re a fatty.”

And that was just at the vet!

Boy did that piss me off. This ole bitty (younger than I am but still…) who was on her way to Wal-mart to buy cigarettes, ding-dongs, and Old Milwaukee beer, made that crack about Sedona as we walked in the door.

Sedona

Yeah, well, she has a glandular condition. It’s her high-boy gland.

That’s what I should have said. Instead I said something equally withering.

Awwwww, what a thing to say.

Really, that did shut her up!

Derby was there too, but he doesn’t stick up for Sedona much. He’s independent that way. After the vet, I toted the two furry friends to a pet store. I was very impressed with the sign on the front window.

I paid $33 to wash two dogs.

And I did all the work.

But I would do it again. After years of bending over the tub and my knees getting bruised from the tile floor and using 17 towels to semi-dry everybody off, it was worth the money. The pet store had one of those stand-up stainless sinks, with a flex water hose, and all the shampoo and conditioner I wanted. To dry the pooches was a stand-up grooming table with the collar restraint and a heavy-duty blower dryer.

Everybody left happier, smelling better and drier.

When I got home the normal greeting by my bitches was missing – even Oliver was gone. No Sofi, no Nancy, no Oliver.

Nancy was watching the Indians gathering at the Smallburg International Convention Center for the Expansive Arts for a traditional Hindu wedding.

Her friend Anne was decorating her horse as a part of a wedding ceremony. (Anne is on the right.)

Wow. Do those Indians know how to throw a wedding.

We watched the guests arrived, dressed to the nines (or the Dot Indian equivalent.)

Not at all like the other Kentucky Weddings we have observed.

Arrving on a horse (or in a carriage) is a tradition. It’s called the Baraat:

Baraat
The groom arrives at the wedding ceremony location with his baraat of family and friends. The Baraat gathers together and everyone dances in celebration.

Since grooms often didn’t marry wimmen from the same village this let the bride beat it out the back of the Mahal if she chickened out. There was sure plenty of noise to announce his arrival. It sure looked like fun!

I sure am glad we live in a diverse community. The old battle-ax in the vet’s office would have probably been there with her beer swilling redneck friends chanting anti-Muslim slogans at a bunch of Hindus.