I recently became an MOB. As in, Mother of the Bride. Annesley will wed Geoff, her high school sweetheart, next May. And we couldn’t be more excited.
As soon as the news broke, I found myself on the receiving end of a tidal wave of congratulations (which was exciting), advice (which was welcome), and questions (stressful). Had we picked a date? A venue? A band? Did Annesley have a dress? Her bridesmaids? A signature color? What about the all-important china pattern? Had she registered for that?
Ahhhhh! Could I really survive 11 months of planning? I didn’t think so. Happily (and just as I was about ready to suggest elopement), my friend Michelle (aka “Lucy” to my Ethel; she is a gorgeous redhead who was once almost cast as a Bond girl, while I am the stout and supportive blonde) corralled a group of our friends and decided to host an engagement party. And when she hinted that they might want to include dancing, well…laissez le bon temps rouler!
I think I’ve mentioned my affinity for projects. When renting a dance floor proved to be too costly, Michelle (who is a Pinterest queen) and I rolled up our sleeves. Before he knew what hit him, my sweet husband found himself roaming the aisles of Lowes with me on a Saturday morning, looking at plywood and planking. (And T-nuts, which are a cool invention that I didn’t know existed until Geoff’s father—who builds things like boats and cars in his spare time—told me to pick up a few.)
Two weeks and a half-dozen calls to Geoff’s dad later (he actually came over to help me put the wooden pieces together, which I thought was very family bonding-ish of him), we had our dance floor. And, despite more than a little skepticism from the men (no, we didn’t factor in the stress levels associated with heavyweight dancers, or the fact that plywood and bare feet don’t always pair well), the finished product was MAH-VELOUS!
Need your own dance floor? Click here for more pics and some how-to pointers, and start making your party mix! (Hint: ABC by the Jackson Five is always a crowd pleaser, and you can’t really call it a party without Sister Sledge’s We are Family. A classic.)
