Dear Auntie Donna.
I know I have been a bad niece, what with the promises of anecdotes untold and the non-posting and such, but I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. My only real excuse is that I've been absolutely slammed with a huge project at work and after spending eight to nine hours a day at the computer, I can't seem to muster any enthusiasm for sitting down in front of it at home. And until they figure out a way to get the thoughts directly from my brain and into the blog (which would be totally awesome, by the way), the computer is the only way to go.
I suppose the only thing I can do to try and get back in your good graces is to give you a long, satisfying blog entry. So, where were we on the teasers?
Numero Dos: I read Netherland by Joseph O'Neill on the plane. Liked it to possibly loved it. Which I realize is a weird answer and I'll do my best to attempt to explain it. It was one of those books that doesn't translate well to a two or three sentence synopsis but I shall try. It's a book about post-9/11 New York, the immigrant experience, and cricket--not necessarily in that order. I know. It sounds odd and unpalatable, but there's something about O'Neill's main character, Hans van der Broek, that is supremely likeable. Even when he's being a total heel, you can't help but root for him. Recommended.
Numero Tres: Ah yes, how people responded to the news that TLS and I have been married for fourteen years. (Even while I was writing the bullet point in my teaser post, I was having second thoughts about this one.) Being that our anniversary had been earlier in the week, I had many opportunities to tell people how many years I've been married. When it is someone that I've just met, they always have the same expression on their face. It's one that isn't easily described, but it goes something like "disbelief" crossed with "confusion" and I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads. I usually say something like, "I know what your next question is going to be. How old are you? Right?" There is much nodding and then I say thirty-nine and they always express astonishment and say, "I thought you were only about thirty!" I know it is wrong to be vain, but I always get a little bit of a thrill during this shock and awe portion of the conversation. But I don't kid myself, someday my appearance age is going to catch up with my chronological age and then my entire mental house of cards is going to come crashing down. Until then, though, I'm going to eat it up!
Numero Quatro: The Mother of the Bride (M.O.B.), or my Aunt Debbie, is a total crack-up. Here is a transcript of a couple of her fantastic quotes for your reading pleasure.
At the rehearsal dinner, where the restaurant was serving absolutely monster portions...
Me: I am so full, I can hardly stand it!
M.O.B.: Me too. Good thing I put on my elastic waistband pants today!
In the bride's room prior to the ceremony, with much complaining about the discomfort of her shoes...
M.O.B.: I guess if Christ can hang and die on the cross, I can wear these shoes for one afternoon!
Numero Cinco: I tend to be the classic over-packer. I'm not sure if it's an over-active survival instinct, but much like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter, I start packing for a two day trip and am soon acting like I'm leaving on a major polar expedition. As a result of much ribbing from TLS over the years, I start out throwing in everything but the kitchen sink and then start winnowing the pile to a manageable level. Most of the time, this strategy works out just fine, but occasionally I throw back something I should have kept in. This time it was my cell phone charger. About 2:30 a.m. Sunday (during one of the fourteen times I was awake -- I don't sleep well away from home in hotels at all), the cell phone started to do the ominous low battery beeping. Now, I'll be the first person to admit that we can all survive just fine without a cell phone. Heck, I survived the first twenty-five years of my life without one and lived to tell the tale. But when you're trying to coordinate getting multiple people from Point A to Point B and in between, needing to call the airline to confirm that your flight is still on time and what gate/terminal it is leaving from, and making sure that TLS has your arrival information, a phone starts to look much of a necessity than a luxury. I spent a few minutes trying to decide on a course of action and finally decided that I had time upon getting up to run to the neighborhood discount store and buy a new charger. While getting it would be irritating, since I already have two of them at home, it was the only way I knew to solve the problem. Luckily for me, I ran into the Father of the Groom (F.O.G.) in the lobby on my way to the store. I told him my tale of woe and, get this, he had the exact charger I needed for my phone! What are the odds of that, my friends? It was nothing short of a wedding weekend miracle, I tell you.
Numero Seis: During the rehearsal dinner, the table full of bridesmaids asked for a bottle of ketchup for someone's french fries. A bottle was brought and was opened. Apparently, a ketchup pressure bomb had been brewing in there and ketchup flew about fifteen feet in all directions. It was our very own ketchup Vesuvius. My cousin, the bride, remarked that this is what her wedding would eventually be known for and I have to agree.
I'm sure that after a couple of weeks of breathless anticipation, that this wasn't quite up to expectations, but it's better than nothing.
Hugs and kisses,
Inertia Girl
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