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2001-07-30 I know, writing about weddings is boring, because weddings are boring. Like parades, they're more interesting if you're in them than if you're just watching. I think, though, that it's a really good wedding when the bridal couple giggles through the whole ceremony. The groom was giggling too much and was too nervous to repeat the first line of the vows on the first try. The bride repeatedly forgot that she's not supposed to kiss the groom until the minister says so. During the blessing after the "First Kiss," the minister was reading: "You should live in harmony and in support of each other and...." Then he looked up at them. "...And you should probably kiss again." The whole thing was cute and kind of goofy like this. I mean, one of the tables at the reception afterwards was named "The Mewey Table" in honor of their cat. So you know these have to be good people. Mostly it's really obvious that�my gods, I feel ancient calling them this, but it's the best expression for it�these two "young people" are very deeply in love with each other. Without getting too Unicorns and Rainbows about it, that's an pretty infectious vibe, and I'm still warm from it a few days later. (It seems like it was a good weekend for weddings anyway.) I was, however, a bit of an anal-retentive, detail-oriented freak beforehand (so, yes, my usual self); my inner Martha took over wrapping the present. It had to be just so and I was not going to settle for anything less. Except that, oh, I have a job and (some semblance of) a life and couldn't devote myself to finding a gift wrap pattern I had imagined. I actually had to make an effort to let go and just pick out a pleasant wrapping paper and a nice ribbon. And it turned out quite lovely, actually. Until someone put their present (in what looked like Toys-R-Us brand wrapping paper) on top of my bow on the gift table. I took a deep breath, had another glass of wine, and just let it go. Ditto for polishing my shoes for the ceremony, which we discovered was out in a grassy field. Across a gravel parking lot. On a slightly windy afternoon. Well, they needed to be polished anyway, so what better excuse, right? Can someone please explain to me why the DJ plays "Y.M.C.A." at every wedding I've ever attended? Is it a requirement by the State or something? "I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may now dance to old gay disco songs?" Straight people are weird. I stopped drinking early and become the designated driver, negotiating a standard transmission car over Highway 17 from Santa Cruz. It's been a long time since I've had to deal with either of those things; and I think I did pretty well. Well, there was no property damage, anyway. After a sweet wedding and nice reception, and a lovely time with my boyfriend, my weekend plans were finished and I had the remainder of my Sunday left to waste. What did I want to do? Wander over to the Dore Alley Street Fair to show my allegiance to the kinky queer people? Nah, it was a little too windy and sunny to stand around outside. I'm really not much for the Street Fair scene anyway; it's a little too much time outside and usually too many people in one place. And to be honest, Dore Alley (and its bigger sister the Folsom Street Fair) only holds so much appeal to me anyway; as I put it to the boyfriend, I seem to be mostly interested in the leather and fetish scene from an anthropological view. I want to understand the culture, but I don't know that I'd want to be a part of it. I could wear the regalia but don't know that I'd have the desires to go along with it. And I don't want to be a scenester—the people whom my friends would point at, with coat hanger marks on their leather chaps from the 363 days of the year which were spent hung in a closet. So what else? Do work-work? No way. Spend some discretionary income on CDs and video games? Maybe later this week. Stay home and slay some more demons in Diablo II? Now we're talking. This is a pretty good life to be living. And sometimes boring is pretty good, all things considered. See, take this example. Late Sunday morning, I was lying in bed with the Boyfriend drinking coffee and listening to NPR. A Prarie Home Companion was on. I went through a phase as a fan of the show in high school, but after a little while it just didn't resonate as strongly with me anymore. I had also stopped listening to the radio for many years, but the Boyfriend is a news hound and, by example,reminded me that I liked Public Radio for a lot of reasons. Anyway, the show was from May 2000 in Pasadena. Garrison Keillor's monologue was about the problem he had with his California friends, because at least to the Minnesotans who suffer through their winter together, "Misery makes good company." Happiness makes for boring stories. I was thinking about the Wedding, and what to write about it. And it hit me: Boring? So be it. Right now, I'd rather be happy. Let's hear it for more boring stories from everyone.
2003-03-29 - Moving Notice |
