and the zombies haven't gotten me yet - though they do seem to be doing a number on whatever health care reforms are being proposed these days.
Anyway - I'm still funked out but I'm well past any tearful, poignant revelations about the universe.
A good friend is leaving for Korea today, she'll be spending a whole year there. It makes me miss Iceland. I miss international travel. I miss the confidence and the disorientation, and the food and the strain, and the whole "fish out of water" feeling. That's a damned good kind of stress, by the gods.
You're probably as tired as I am of hearing about exactly why I'm so stressed and poopy these days, so we'll fast forward through that part.
The year of a thousand weddings is moving along nicely, with now two un-blogged events to tell you about.
One of them, a true highlight of my summer, was for my very own father in law. He's a tango instructor and that's how he met his bride. She's a nurse and she's not only super organized and smart and friendly and stylish and beautiful, but she's a pretty swell dancer in her own right. Their first dance as married people, actually, was a tango. It was heart-breaking! It was beautiful and artful and just everything a first dance should be for these two people. Nothing like that "so you think you can dance" crap, nothing so hyperventilated and oversexed. This was tango like it's supposed to be, a conversation between two people who are in love. Damn.
Her dress was a spectacular olive green and the flowers were in simmering oranges and pinks. The cake was almond/tangerine I think and STILL stands out as among the classiest wedding cakes I've ever eaten.
The groom was, again, bursting with pride. The whole family was bursting with pride. There were sisters and cousins everywhere. In the reception I was overwhelmed by the realization of how much my own beloved's family had just grown. It was exponential! It was also thrilling to be surrounded by that much family - exuberant family at that. THAT was a whole new experience for little me... one raised in a small family of four with a few grandparents and all others be damned. Big family reunions never really happened in my own childhood and when something even resembling a family reunion was pulled together it never really felt like family. It always felt like me in a room (or park) full of people I was obliged to be nice to. They were strangers, all of them. They had lives I didn't know and faces I didn't recognize.
This though, was family like they wrote songs about in the seventies. This was a room thick with genetic commeraderie, friendship, backstories and laughter. We were a part of it. I was a part of it. I was so, so honored to be a part of it.
My father in law got married. His little circle has bloomed from roughly three (plus me) to roughly 50 and beyond. We were all so happy, and having so much fun, most of us forgot to run outside to see the fireworks for the 4th of July!
It was a beautiful day, and it was a perfect day.
Welcome to Happily Ever After, father in law. Welcome to Happily Ever After, bride of my very own father in law. You are wonderful people. And you are beautiful people. And you will live VERY happily ever after. You've earned it!