Trying to get back...

There's nothing more boring than listening to a sick person excuse themselves so let's just plunge in as if I'd never been away...

My middly son--yes, middly--is getting married. I am overjoyed. I really love this little girl that he's chosen---she has good sense and a lovely heart. She's young, and there are some things about which she's never thought, but she is good and character is all that matters. A person of good character will make the right decisions with more conviction than a person who's been taught right, but has no character...

Anyway.

His two brothers, both married, got together with him for a "bachelor party" this weekend...the high point was, of course, a fistfight...
This is, you understand, my version, put together with snatches of information from my oldest four children...

The first info came from the oldest, who called to inform me that he was going home having punched his little brother in the face and was angry with the middle brother for having taken up for the baby...(Oldest to youngest: 32, 30, 26. I mean, it's not like they are preschoolers...Yes, they were homeschooled, but they've all been to fairly prestigious universities. You'da thought they'da picked up SOME couth, right?) said he was going back because the middle one was crying(?) and begging him to.

Then my daughter called and talked to her little sister, who was home because she lives with the middle brother and didn't want to be designated driver for the barbarian hoard...daughter's info had come from her dear friend who happens to be the fiance in this whole thing and who informed her that the youngest had bitten the middlest. Yes, bitten...

The next morning the middle son called me...They had, he said, decided that they had all been drugged..."You were all DRUGGED?" I repeated.

"Yes!" he said. "We know we were drugged because we all had no more than 10 beers each" (okay, this is believable since they all drink like IRA henchmen)"and we don't remember anything that happened!"

"You had at most 10 beers each and you don't remember what happened??"

"Yes, and we think whoever drugged us was going to follow us home and rob us, but we left before they thought we would!"

"Someone drugged you in order to follow you home and rob you???"

At this point I heard a high pitched, wheezing wail and a loud thump, and turned to see that my husband was literally laughing so hard that he had fallen off the couch and onto the Big Puppy, and was now kicking his little heels in the air and clutching his sides. Puppy looked concerned...

I was trying mentally to deal with the utter stupidity of a gang who would pass up practicing their theft scheme on one of those little metroplex yuppie nerds driving 2011 BMW's in favor of my three big redneck boys, piling out of a 2003 Ford Mustang...

"Well, you MUST have been drugged," I said. "It's the only explanation that makes any sense."

We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and he said that they had watched the Cowboy game together and had all been in fine spirits when his brothers left...

"Well, I'm glad the experience was more positive than negative," I said...

"I'm just glad we didn't get ROBBED," he said.

The youngest one called, cautiously, that evening. You know the way they do---just kind of scouting out the territory to make sure there is no unpleasantness on the horizon.

Bless their little hearts...

I love them a lot...