Party morphs into surprise wedding!

I believe I've said before that I have blabbermouth issues.

So imagine my consternation when, four or so weeks ago, my closest friend Amy informed me that she and her fiance had decided to turn their engagement party into a surprise wedding.

As in -- only the hostess of said party and yours truly were privy to this decision.

Oh, the agony!

The paranoia that I would slip up and accidentally refer to the party as a "wedding."

Somehow, I managed not to screw things up and then suddenly it was the night!

As people gathered in small groups, gossiping and laughing, the groom remained in constant phone contact with his bride."Where are you?" he whispered. "Everyone's out here waiting --"

Then he stopped in front of me.

"OK, Amy's on her way. You have GOT TO TALK TO ME because I am sweating through my tie and I think I'm going to pass out."

Hey, inane chattering is what I do best. I know just how to handle this -- watch his glass to make sure the beer level doesn't drop too low.

Five minutes later, the groom announced to the crowd that the party was really a wedding. And then, as the crowd cheered, the minister -- aka our beloved newsroom editor's assistant Earlene -- swept into the backyard, her long white robe billowing around her feet. The afro she'd been growing out for this event looked freaking spectacular billowing around her head.

I love Earlene. She's this loud, ballsy earth-mothering woman who drops endearments right and left. No one, not family, not my husband, has called me sweetheart more times than Earlene. But lord have mercy on your soul if you ever fall out of Earlene's favor. Only a few of us realize it, but she's really the one running the newsroom. Oh, and her deviled eggs and green beans -- to DIE FOR!

And she's also a minister with dreads-turned-fro. Groovy, huh?

So, anyway, after Earlene blew in, someone started the music and Amy walked tentatively into the backyard.

Now I'd already seen her dress, having helped her pick it out a few weeks earlier. And I'm not a crier at weddings. But she looked so damned beautiful, I let a few tears roll.

A friend nudged me. "Did you know about this?" she asked.

"Yep."

"You knew?" someone else chimed in. "Hey, is Amy knocked up?"

"NO!"

"Awwww..." the crying continued.

"Hey, you guys heard me, right? No knocked up, no pregnancy, no baby due in 9 months...

Amy, if you return from you honeymoon to hear you're 5 months pregnant with rabid triplets, well, that might be possibly due to what I said at your wedding. Thankfully, I wasn't under the influence as I had to chase, and then drive, the children home.

But anyway -- the wedding was beautiful and fun and sooooooo Walt and Amy.

Thanks for trusting me with your secret, guys! I was smoooooooooooth, let me tell you. Although, due to my many lies, one friend now thinks I suffer from some form of agoraphobia, another thinks I'm hopelessly socially insecure, and a third thought I'm going to announce my pregnancy at the engagement part. (I AM NOT PREGNANT!)

So. We are home. My son is a walking advertisement for stain removers, courtesy of the virgin daquri machine and a chocolate fountain. Bleh. Will deal with stains tomorrow.

This was such an incredible evening!

And hey! I kept a secret. I can do it! I knew it!

But however will I cope if she ever tells me she's pregnant and that she's not announcing anything until she at 13 or 14 weeks.

If I barely survived a month of keeping someone's secret, how would I manage THREE months?