Tag Archives: Friends & Life

Let’s hear it for the boy!

3 May

Alan and I spent this weekend in Richmond for his sister Barbara’s wedding. Everything ran like clockwork and it was a flawless event. Barbara was glowing and her new husband Paul was sporting a constant grin whenever I saw him. It was how a wedding SHOULD be.

The added fun was that Alan got to officiate and wrote the homily himself. He looked frighteningly official (I guess that’s the point) as he stood in front of Barbara and Paul in his tuxedo. For a minute I started to sweat, worrying that he might hear God’s calling and decide to be a man of the cloth, preaching “hellfire and brimstone” and teaching Kylie that dancing is sinful – until a certain Ren McCormack moves to town, plays chicken with a tractor and convinces the town to host a prom.

Fortunately, I only indulged in this Footloose fantasy for a split second before remembering that Alan was ordained for the day as the head of the “Church of the Naked Pants,” and therefore merely looked official but actually had a 50/50 chance of wearing breakaway stripper pants on the pulpit.

In all seriousness, Alan did a great job presiding over the event. It was one of the most personal ceremonies I’ve witnessed, and the homily perfectly communicated the wishes of a protective older brother for his sister.

Even so, I’ll admit that I’m breathing a little bit easier now that his tux has been returned. When he stops insisting that I call him Father, I’ll truly rejoice.

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A sincere birthday wish for my friend Holly…

26 Apr

A rose by any other name… might smell like kielbasa?

15 Apr

So we all know people with unfortunate name combinations…. just start a conversation about someone you know whose name is Rose Budd (nee Bush) and inevitably, you’ll start hearing about other ironic pairings.

Last night at book club this very topic came up and I found myself talking about a girl I went to elementary school with, who – in the interest of anonymity – we’ll call Krista Hiney. (This isn’t her real last name, but it’s a close parallel, especially on the Hiney part.)

Her last name wasn’t just unfortunate, but something of a self-fulfilling prophecy: in fourth grade she crapped her pants during quiet reading time. Except instead of wearing pants, she was actually wearing a dress, so she had to be pushed out of the classroom while still seated in her chair because she was scared her underwear would fall down when she stood up.

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Prior to this, the only PDA I liked was my iPhone…

9 Apr

Tuesday night, my friend Margaret hooked Alan and me up with seats at the Washington Wizards game. Margaret’s husband is a marketing director for the Wizards, so he was able to score us some pretty incredible seats right on the floor. Even a blowout (poor Golden State Warriors) is exciting when there’s a good chance one of the players might crash into your chair. (See how mature I am? I refrained from using the phrase “taking a ball in the face.” )

Anyway, sometime in the second half (OK, according to the jumbotron it was with 7:13 remaining), Alan and I were chatting when I looked up and noticed a camera on us. “Let’s get a kiss for the Kiss Cam,” I heard the announcer urge.

A quick glance up confirmed that we were, indeed, on the screen. Despite being caught off-guard, we obliged:

As it turns out, it wasn’t as random as it seems. Margaret’s quite a conniving little planner. Not only had she scored us seats, she’d asked her husband to direct the Kiss Cam our way and had her phone out ready to snap a shot of the monitor when it happened. She’s a slick one… I can’t imagine what she’d do for a surprise party!

Please sir, may I have another?

14 Mar

On the way to Captiva Island...

After three months of anticipation an many hours of planning the logistics, this morning Alan and I left for a week on North Captiva, a barrier island located off the coast of Florida (near Fort Myers) on the Gulf of Mexico. I’m lucky enough to work for a company that has a beach house here (and another in Hawaii) for employees, so that’s how we chose this destination.

Both Alan and I tend to be workaholics, so the prospect of closing our laptops and disconnecting for a week has kept us buoyed for months. The place could easily sleep ten, but with so many moving parts (shuttles from airports, water taxis, fax ahead grocery lists, etc.) we decided to keep it simple and just come ourselves. I’m so glad we did.

As I type, I’m sitting on the deck watching (and listening) to the waves crashing on the beach below me. The sun is starting its descent to the horizon, and I have a margarita beside me. Other than plugging in the golf carts to charge overnight, there is nothing expected of me.

So this is what they call vacation. Please sir, may I have another?