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Location: Work.
Composing: Lists, lists, lists.
Listening: "June" ~ Over The Rhine.

Monday morning and I'm preparing for a fairly full week. Peter and I leave early Friday morning for his cousin Leigh's wedding in Ann Arbor, MI. We'll be flying into Detroit, then driving to Ann Arbor, where we'll meet up with the rest of the guests for dinner Friday night. Saturday morning, we'll be travelling to Kalamazoo, MI to have lunch with Peter's Aunt Ethel and to visit Kalamazoo College, where Peter spent his freshman and sophomore years and which, consequently, is the centerpiece of a good portion of his personal mythology, as USC is the centerpiece for much of mine. After lunch, back to Ann Arbor for the wedding and the reception. Sunday will be lunch with Peter's mother's side of the family and then we'll drive into Pittsburgh Sunday evening to stay with Paul and Cat, old friends of his from Kalamazoo. We'll spend Monday roaming around Pittsburgh, where Peter lived while working for Lycos (and where we're considering relocating to--this is something of a "preview" trip for me to get a feel for the city), and then back to Detroit to catch our return flight Tuesday. In other words, like our past vacations to Las Vegas/Philadelphia/Exton and San Jose/ Oakland, we won't be sitting still anywhere for very long. Which is exactly the way I like it.

So I've already slipped into full travelling mode. I fed Lucifer Saturday night and spent part of last night scrubbing the bathroom and washing the linens. Tonight, I'll be finishing up the back hall area, where Baghera resides, and trying to get the kitchen squared away. My mother holds the philosophy that one should never come home to an untidy house after a trip; I've never really thought too much about it, but I have noticed that one of the first things I do before taking a trip is to clean. Hm. I'm also on a list-making frenzy, trying to get a specific idea of what we'll need to take, how we'll be packing it, etc. All of this mental preparation is serving the dual purpose of making sure we have everything in order before the trip and that I don't get too nervous about meeting the rest of Peter's extended family at a wedding.

Weddings and I have a somewhat checkered past. As a child, I was an attendant of some sort at my mother's brother's wedding and apparently caused quite a stir at the reception (which was held at a local catfish house...it was southern Alabama...) when I loudly pointed out a large tree roach perched atop one of the centerpieces. Some guests lost their appetites, the bride tried to play it off, and my mother about near died.

Fast forward to my cousin Christi's wedding (my mother's sister's daughter) in Kentucky in June of 1997. I was a co-maid(en) of honor with my second cousin Julie and, as such, preceded the other bridesmaids (who were six of Christi's sorority sisters) down the aisle. Christi is 5'11" and blonde. Her sorority sisters, the majority of whom were on the University of Tennessee women's swim team with her, were all over 5'9" and blonde as well. Julie is 5'0". I'm 5'6". We're both decidedly not blonde. We looked like two Celtic midgets leading a procession of Valkyrie into the church. After the ceremony, I went to congratulate my cousin only to have her, visibly annoyed, declare that she was lucky to have gotten any attention, given the way I walked down the aisle. I had never considered the traditional heel-toe-stop to be overly provocative, but, according to Christi, I was "too dramatic". Stunned, I reminded her that she was the one in the veil, after all. She "hmph"ed and walked over to the rest of the bridesmaids, who were slapping high-fives and congratulating her on "finally snagging" the groom. Later, at the reception, I was well into my third scotch when the bouquet-throwing came around. I balked, my aunt insisted, and I ended up standing at the front of a group of fluttering and gasping girls, jockeying for position. I watched them, bemused, until I heard someone call my name and looked up to see a clump of roses and ribbons headed straight for my face. I looked at the glass of scotch in my right hand, then up, then back at the scotch before putting my left hand up to shield my eyes. Consequently, I caught the damn bouquet. The bridesmaid next to me promptly burst into tears. I offered the flowers to her, prompting her to take them before the bride turned around, but she refused. "No, it's yours, fair and square." I pointed out that I really didn't want them and had no intention of being married any time soon. This led to a fresh flood of tears, as Southern tradition holds that not only will the one who catches the bouquet be the next to be married, but no one else in the bouquet-catching party will marry until she does. I slunk back to my seat, where my mother was beaming, my aunt was chuckling, and my uncle winked--"You should see the look on your face". The sobbing bridesmaid spent the rest of the evening in a corner (with, apparently, the boyfriend in question), nursing a white wine spritzer and sniffling. I spent the rest of the evening counting the hours until I could get back to California.

Finally, July of 2000 saw me attending the wedding of a friend of my then-boyfriend. The groom was a favorite of mine, a really sweet guy who was marrying a girl who had admitted to hating the idea of his group of friends. I say "the idea" because she had never met any of them--and only consented to do so at the wedding after lengthy discussion. Needless to say, this made the general "vibe" at the ceremony more than a little awkward. Adding to this was the fact that the invitations requested "Church attire". The groom's side of the family, devout Catholics of Cuban descent, appeared with the men in three-piece suits and the women in hats and gloves. The bride's side, predominantly from Huntington Beach, wore Hawaiian shirts, shorts, and sneakers. My boyfriend leaned over in his suit and whispered "Christ. It's like The Godfather meets Beach Blanket Bingo." The ceremony took place at a German Catholic Church in a replicated Renaissance-era village/strip mall in Huntington Beach. A "modern Catholic" priest presided, wearing khakis and a white button-down shirt, and asking for a "big round of applause for the happy couple" at the end of the vows. By the time we got to the reception at the bride's home, I was convinced that things couldn't get more surreal. The reception itself was pleasant--we drank, ate, admired the backyard landscaping, and lined up to meet the bride as we were leaving (she had somehow missed our table three times when making her customary rounds). When she reached my end of the line, I thanked her for the invitation and congratulated her. She took a step back, looked me up and down, and said "Who are you?". I explained that I was the date of one of her new husband's friends and I had grown to consider him a friend as well. "Oh", she responded, her expression completely blank. She then turned and walked away without another word.

On a more positive note, one of the most beautiful weddings I've attended was the most recent. This past March, my friend Abby married her long-time boyfriend Ben in a small ceremony at Red Rocks, NV, outside of Las Vegas. Dress was "slinky but comfortable". The guests were packed into two buses and transported from the Mirage to Red Rocks National Park, where we parked at the foot of one of the hills and hiked the rest of the way up to the spot that Ben and Abby had selected the day before. The sun lit up the crimson and ochre stones surrounding the party as Ben and Abby were married by an old friend in a short, non-denominational ceremony. The party then posed for pictures on the rocks before hiking back down the hill. We boarded the buses once more, broke open the coolers of beer, and toasted the couple on the way back into town.

All in all, I enjoy weddings, largely because I enjoy the spirit behind them. I strongly disagree with many of the traditions associated with marriage (bachelor and bachelorette parties, diamond engagement rings, the "giving away" of the bride, white dresses, etc.), but find marriage itself to be a worthy pursuit. One just has to be very careful to look beyond the psycho-social and legal trappings and appreciate the experience for what it's meant to signify.

On that note, I'll add a very belated congratulations to Kenny and Jenn on their recent engagement. Having witnessed firsthand how well they complement one another and how much joy they seem to take in each other's presence, I believe that they have an understanding of marriage that goes beyond the ceremony and that they will continue to be very happy together. I wish them all the best, now and always.