Mullberry Whine

poured out before bed

To Thimbleberry and Thor

… the bubbles, the bubbles, the bubbles…hiccup… (Agne27‘s Rose Champagne Bubbles)

Tomorrow, my little sister – my only sister – will be joined in holy, happy, hunky-dory matrimony to the manly mate of her choice.  I have the enviable task of wearing a pretty nifty dress of my choosing (seriously, how often does that happen?) in a fairly decent color at her side (wearing the ungodly expensive dress of her choosing) as she takes this big, beautiful step in her life.  I have also been tasked with making a bit of a speech.  So I figured I had darn well better write one before I jump in the car today for that long drive across the state – and perhaps memorize said speech during said drive.  Imagine me in this dress (preferably in canary) with perfect hair and makeup (snicker), and a glass of  sassy bubbly, coolly toasting my sweet sister and her lucky groom.

Good evening, folks!

For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Mullberry – a name just similar enough to Thimbleberry that our parents can yell either up the stairs and we will both respond.  I’m Thimbleberry’s elder sister and her matron of honor, two titles which make me sound awfully old but, in reality, Thimbleberry and I are only 16 months apart.  And I think you’ll all agree that, although 16 months represents a lifetime of wisdom and experience, making me well suited to offer my sister sage advice, it isn’t so many months that Thimbleberry and I couldn’t become excellent playmates and confidantes during our childhood.

Being raised in a military family, you spend a significant amount of time gallivanting about the country with just your siblings for pals.  Luckily, in Thimbleberry, I had a great pal – a sweet and silly and genuine partner.  We rode the school bus on weekdays and matching pink bikes on weekends together.  We played with herds of My Little Pony’s and shared mix tapes and, later, CD’s together.  We tapped and pirouetted through dance lessons, and lost gracefully in high school soccer together.  We even spent a year as roommates in college.  We never fought.

OK, we always fought, but good relationships are above all passionate.

And today I am very happy to celebrate a new relationship – that of Thimbleberry and Thor, as they commit to gallivanting through life as best pals.  As I have now been married for nearly 2 whole years, I feel well qualified to offer just a bit of marital advice.

First, do go to bed angry.  Studies show – and I can personally attest – humans say stupid things when they are tired and when their sympathetic nervous systems are in overdrive.  Give each other a kiss – research shows that outward displays of happiness and affection even when you don’t feel affectionate dampen the rage centers in your brain and reinforce feelings of well-being.  Then take a nap, and hash things out when the adrenaline is no longer intensifying your primal emotional response.

Second and importantly, Thor, darling – unless she is arguing with me, Thimbleberry is always, always right.  Realize this early and it will serve you well.

Third, Thimbleberry, sweetheart – Thor is a man and therefore prone to saying the wrong thing.  But he loves you.  And as long as the wrong thing is said in love – you still have the ability to mold him to your liking.

Finally, you should always have a ridiculously tiny, preferably overstuffed and low-set loveseat somewhere in your home.  The kind that when two people sit in it, they are thrown together at odd angles and have to jockey a few times to gain the momentum to get up.  This couch should be referred to as “the argument couch.” When you find yourself engaging in a passionate – but loving – argument, you should immediately relocate there, as it is nearly impossible to argue for any length of time when you sit together on such a couch. 

Sometimes life becomes just as ridiculous as that sort of couch: jumbled and shapeless and close.  But as long as you sit through it together and alternately hold to each other and keep your hands to yourself as need be – you’ll be sitting pretty.

And always know that you are welcome to come on over anytime and sit on our good couch.  We love you, we support you, and we look forward to sharing in your new full life as full partners.

Folks, if you would join me in toasting the new couple: to the early and wonderful relationships that have made us what we are today, and to those burgeoning and growing ones which will shape our tomorrows – to Thimbleberry and Thor.

Cheers.

And cheers to you, my readers (you two are awesome), as you make the make the big leaps and the little shuffles alike in your own fabulous lives.  Best wishes to you in all that you do.

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4 comments on “To Thimbleberry and Thor

  1. ahyesplans
    May 2, 2012

    I love your toast. You’re a gifted writer!

    • mullberrywhine
      May 2, 2012

      Thanks so much – I got a few laughs! And such a lovely compliment; as you seem to have such refined taste will look forward to perusing a bit of your writing as well! 😉

  2. Pingback: Favorite Elephant in the Room « Mullberry Whine

  3. Pingback: Favorite Two Elephants in the Room « Mullberry Whine

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House Rules

Creative Commons License
Nothing under the table.
***
The views expressed on "Mullberry Whine" are NOT intended to diagnose or treat disease.
***
The med-ed related stories described here are based on real events. Details have been changed in accordance with HIPAA de-identification guidelines to protect confidentiality.
***
Mullberry Whine can be enjoyed daily; there is no unsafe quantity. Real wine, though, should be enjoyed in moderation. At-Risk Drinking for males under 65 is defined as >14 alcoholic beverages per week or >4/day, with >7 drinks a week or >3/day being the cut-off for females under 65 and for anyone, male or female, who has graced this planet for 65 years for more. Drink Mullberry Whine like there are no consequences. But drink alcohol responsibly. Your friends, your family, your health-care provider, and your liver - heck, ALL of the organs in your body - will thank you.
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