Snuggies Optional

Formal Snuggie Wear

Last night, the SJG and First Hubby headed to a whole other zip code, something we rarely do, but when we do it, we go all out.  We packed our survival gear and took to the road, prepared to brave the elements, with our extra large snuggie, our thermos of hot cocoa and our comfy, solar-powered butt-warming cushions.  Upon arrival, we took our seats and I began to chant, "Go take that ball, go down the field and score, score!"  Whereupon First Hubby leaned in and whispered, "Shush."  "You're shushing me at a football game?" "We're not at a football game."  "That's crazy talk.  Of course we -- " A brief interlude to reconsider our surroundings.  First Hubby was right.  We were not a sporting event.  We were at a joyous matrimonial event.  We weren't not in the bleachers, rooting for our team.  We were on white folding chairs.  There were twinkly lights and flowers, ushers and bridesmaids, a guy at the piano.  We were at a wedding in Beverly Hills.  An outdoor wedding.  You heard me.  In November!  If that's not throwing caution to the wind, what is? "We better lose the snuggie," I told First Hubby, sadly.  "I think people are staring."  So we wiggled out of our flannel blankie ensemble, hid the thermos under the seats and chanted for the bride and groom, instead.  Following the lovely ceremony, we got to go inside, which made me so happy, I couldn't wait to hit the dance floor.  I pulled out the signature moves, the gyrations.  It was all about shake it, don't break it.  Only something did break, mid-shake.  My fun rhinestone necklace.  Beads just started falling everywhere.  Here a bead, there a bead, everywhere a bead-bead.  Throughout the night, nice people kept handing me the remnants of my accessory.   Lesson learned:  Dangly costume jewelry and wicked dance moves?  Not a matching set.