Was Thursday, lemurs, with Friday even better. Here’s what happened. It was shaping up to an intense promise of anxiety. You know me. Out on the road all week, my flight from Dallas delayed, getting me back to Philly at about 3 am. Picking up V on Thursday for our last visit before I head out to Santa Fe to hang my shingle at LK’s place for a few weeks. (got the nod from the Powers That Be back at the office to be officially WAH-ing for an extended period, even though I’m WA-NM-ing…hmmmm. Wan-ming. Sounds like a subdued, listless Asian vase or something…)
Anyway, back to the day. I had an urgent request from the client of all week to get a mini report to them before the holiday. Did the hard work on the plane but it still required a bit of my time in the morning after I picked up V, about a half hour’s worth of work proofing and sending it off. I hate doing that. We had nothing scheduled, but when we’re together it’s supposed to be all about the two of us, and work should not be part of it. She seemed bummed, and found her way to the circle the track a few times on the Playstation with Crash Bandicoot (fun game, that, but still). On my agenda was a series of wedding related items, including a) final contract signing with the photographers, b) picking up a quarter of a million champagne flutes and forty-thousand wine glasses from IKEA. And of course, packing for the extended trip, trying to find someone to keep an eye on evil Newton while away – all of this on about four hours sleep, give or take. Not the best way to start a day.
But the trick seemed to be getting the hell out of the house. Can’t swim, too damned cold. Playing computer games got old in a big hurry. So off to Ikea, for a strange Swedish lunch and mountains of glassware. We made a game of it, and Ikea is kind of a fun place for a ten year old anyway, so the day started lightening up. Finding places for the flutes in my car proved challenging. The conversation naturally worked its way around to all things wedding-related (not my idea at all, but she kept pressing me for what exactly her role might be in the whole affair). She wants to be flower girl, not realizing that that’s something usually reserved for much younger kids. But not content with that, she also decided it would be fun to sing a song. Grab your hankies, folks. We were listening to Radio Disney (MUSIC AND PRIZES that ROCK!) and a handful of songs from that Hilary Duff movie kept playing. One (come on, you know the one) has the refrain “This is What Dreams are Made Of,” and we both decided this was suitable wedding fare (Her first choice, a remake of Blondie’s “The Tide is High” seemed less appropriate, the catchiness of the tune notwithstanding).
She had two moments of inspiration right there in the car, knee-deep in SVAKA glassware: getting a copy of the movie soundtrack so she could learn the song, and making ‘candy sushi’. The second was perhaps less inspired. (and for those of you dying to know, although you could probably work out the details with a little thought, the sushi is achieved with fruit roll-ups instead of seaweed, marshmallow instead of rice, jimmies instead of that orange caviar (what’s that called again?) and gummi items instead of the raw fish or veggie components. Let’s stop to consider this a moment. This single-handedly takes one of the healthiest things you can eat, a delicate blend of all necessary food groups, and turns it into a tooth-throbbing day-glo insulin-spiking diabetic nightmare. Yum.
Anyway both inspirations were fulfilled at K-Mart (yay) where we also found the eight pound bag of diet Iams (Food for the Festively Plump Feline) that I needed. While we were out and about on the road, LK was working feverishly behind the scenes trying to find our cat-sitter (most of the candidates were friends of hers, so it seemed more appropriate and probably had a higher probability of success with her in the driver’s seat). And lo! We had a winner. So that anxiety was dissipated, leaving the rest of the day to day-glo sushi (which was actually more like a candy taco by the end…blech) and learning that song. Well, there’s a ballad version of it in addition to the techno dance number, and V decided that we should do both. I get to sing the male part on the ballad. This is all going to happen in the gazebo, after the ceremony. She is practicing dance moves in the living room all afternoon, and taking all of this as seriously as a coronary bypass. We had fun, but she wouldn’t abide my attempts to make light of some of it (after listening to the song about forty times, it occurred to me that “this is what dreams are made of” sounds suspiciously like “this is a green tomato” and I tried that substitution with scowlingly limited success, as you might imagine).
But all of this revelry wasn’t the best. What was best was the way she is coming around to the whole wedding idea, wanting to take such an active and central role in it. Yes, darling darling you are still the center of my world, and you are also going to be part of our new family too, and you can sing and dance in front of everyone to be certain that they don’t forget it either. And I’ll be singing too, to make sure they all get it, if that’s what you want. If not entertaining, it will certainly be unforgettable.
And then, as we were heading back home, she asked me when she was going to see me again. She knows I am headed out to Santa Fe for an extended period, but she is taking long trips over the next few weeks, so we weren’t likely to see as much of each other as usual anyway. But even so, it was important that she be able to pick a date on the calendar. Lemurs, you don’t know how long it’s been since she asked me that. Years. Not since I was living in Buffalo, when I would call and her first question was “when are you coming?” Made this old man’s heart swell.
So it was a great departure, and a great arrival in Santa Fe with my beloved. Am still adjusting to the altitude and the incredible dry dry dry air, which is manifesting in lots of sore throats and bloody noses, but I think that will pass soon. Hope everyone had a great fourth.
ClothMother_old