Life in the Boomer Lane has just return from Charleston, where she spent an entire week with two of her three children and her three grandchildren in a glorious house on the beach. The end of the week culminated in the outdoor wedding of her youngest child. Although this may have been one of the most amazing weddings ever held in the history of the planet, LBL will keep these thoughts private and will not bore you with the details. She will, instead, share the items that her sometimes-less-than-civilized readers have come to expect from her.

Both the weather outside the beach house and the health of several people inside the beach house was less-than-optimal (Read this as: The weather sucked and LBL got sick and shared her rabid germs with her daughter-in-law and 22-month-old granddaughter, who then proceeded to run a high fever).

The rehearsal dinner was attended by a bunch of humans, a whole roasted pig who had seen better days and a pigmy goat who rapidly became the most sought-after member of the wedding party. As one of LBL's daughter-in-law's Long Island friends observed, "Hey Janelle, yah wedding party was upstaged by ah goat." We all agreed.

The day of the wedding, held at a real working tea plantation, was remarkable: clear skies and no rain. LBL, in an attempt to horrify Now Husband, had her makeup professionally done. This consisted of a lot of black stuff all over her eyes, bright red lipstick and, for the first time ever, false eyelashes. Now Husband, being duly horrified, had to check his blood pressure repeatedly.

The wedding site was spectacular and was characterized by trees, grass, bushes and assorted tiny winged live flying objects. As Porta Pottys are not alive, they were not included. LBL, who lives with IBS (Note: In this case, IBS is an intestinal malady, not the initials of an old college boyfriend who is still hanging around), was a bit concerned about the state of her colon after a week of eating enormous amounts of junk food. She dashed into the gift shop rest room to check before making the journey to the wedding site. She feared the worst, and the worst greeted her. She should add that she was wearing a white dress. She should also add that she promptly became hysterical.

What followed isn't fit for human brains to process, so LBL will skip right to the wedding ceremony. The ceremony itself, conducted by LBL's daughter, was about as amazing as a wedding ceremony could possibly be. Guests laughed, smiled and wept silently and openly. LBL prayed. Her prayer went something like this, "Please god, either let me live through this without complete shame and humiliation, or if not, give me a fatal heart attack so I have no idea what a spectacle I will make of myself. And, if the wedding cake is really as good as it is supposed to be, please choose Option #1 for me."

LBL survived the ceremony, and, once at the reception site, grabbed a golf cart and had her brother-in-law and Now Husband bring her back to the gift shop rest room for some more tidying up. Back at the reception, she did her mother/son dance to Tom Waite's "Ode to New Orleans," then carefully walked back to her seat to use her rescue inhaler.

The wedding reception was more like a big, crazy, party of 80 best friends. Janelle's 90-year-old grandfather wheeled himself into the large photo booth provided, along with six or eight 30-year-olds. Everyone did their best hip-hop gestures. Grandpa's were the best.

The next morning, LBL and Now Husband hit the road for home. Because the packing up and tidying up involved six adults, two preschoolers and a sick baby, LBL had no time to examine her face. Somewhere along the route home, she and Now Husband stopped at a tourist rest stop. LBL caught some strange looks from people as she entered the rest room, but was relieved to learn that her IBS was cooperating that day, so she didn't know what the looks were about.

Back at the sink, she caught her image in the mirror. Her hair, compliments of Charleston, looked like it had just lost a fight with a blender. Both eyes were caked all the way around with large black smudges. And one eyelash had started to detach itself from her eyelid and was hanging in front of her eye. She wanted to tell everyone that, as bad as it might have seemed, had her IBS been less cooperative, she would have really given them something to talk about. She flipped the one eyelash into the trash and walked out quite regally.

The next morning, the eye smudges were still there, as was the one remaining eyelash. LBL used Albolene cream to scrub her face, removed the eyelash and washed her hair. Now Husband put his blood pressure kit back into the drawer.