Monday, September 01, 2003
I SWEAR IT WASN'T ME! 20 Hummers Worth $50K Each are Set Aflame by Earth Liberation Front
Said West Covina's assistant fire chief Jerry Johnson,"Whether terrorist act or just vandalism, it was an offense against the community." Hmmm. By offense against the community does he mean the firebombers or the Hummers? I would argue that a Hummer is much worse the offender.
And to those who would have us believe they are buying Hummers because they are 'safe,' and because they make petite soccer moms feel more patriotic, they ought to listen to the news a little more often. A whole lot of the soldiers and imbedded reporters who have been killed in Iraq have died in Hummer roll-over accidents...
OK let's talk about weddings...
"THE PROVERBIAL VASE"
Some of the table cards read "Cool Beans," while others read "Warm Fuzzies." I sat down at a table designated with the latter name. 'Cause I'll take a bowl of Hershey Chocolate Kisses (which is what 'Warm Fuzzies' referred to) over jelly beans ("Cool Beans") any day. I am speaking of a wedding ceremony I attended this weekend. I'm at an age where getting invited to weddings is a scarce occurrence. Not only that, unless there is a direct blood relationship, I can't get hubby to go to these rare-occasioned weddings and so I'm on my own when there is one to go to.
Everyone has their own ideas for what they want their wedding to be and this one was certainly quintessential and the very essence of my former co-worker. By the doorway to the old farmhouse, a toddler's purple plastic swimming pool was filled with drinks across from which was a table where lay a hand-made photo album/guest book filled with snapshots and exclamational sub-text of the couple's three-year courtship, along with old photos of their childhoods. There is a significant age difference between the two and so two different eras unfolded in the same album conjoined at the end by a good-looking balding man holding hands with an exuberantly smiling young woman on a craggy knoll in Ireland. "Oh look, 1973!," said my girlfriend looking at the picture of the groom as a young man, "that was the year I was born!" Whereas 1973 had me thinking about high school. The couple look happy in the photo and you wish with all your heart that the neatly stenciled cover page of their album will hold true: All You Need is Love....He is a forty-eight year-old musician -- she a presently unemployed high-techie who really isn't a high-techie; she just fell into it.
They said their vows under a tree -- a ceremony thankfully kept short I have to say given that we all were standing throughout. I normally wouldn't have minded really but my shoes were uncomfortable and on more than one occassion I had to suppress the urge to slap a mosquito off the person standing right in front of me. Which made me wonder if the person standing behind me was thinking the same thing. I hadn't eaten either and so the thought of maudlin drawn-out love poem exchanges was making me queasy. The home-written kind tend to do me in e.g. "You are my star from afar...." whereby I end up having to discreetly cough to stifle the laugh and/or gag reflex making their way up my throat.
But their vows were a tame affair. The bride had written her thoughts out on a large index card which she read to her husband-to-be. She expressed love, respect, and her enthusiasm that the relationship was getting 'funner and funner.' The groom chose the impromptu route. I don't remember all that was said but he was going to "work hard at making the relationship work" (spoken very insightfully, I thought, from a man almost twenty years her senior and married once before). Before exchanging rings, he ferreted out a gold-spray-painted wish bone from his pocket which they had been saving from a Thanksgiving feast for just such a special occasion. He asked the audience to make a wish (on the bride and groom's behalf he qualified). We laughed. They tugged. She dominated the match -- a tiny fragment of turkey bone was all that was left in his hands.
The band was really good but I was too hungry to dance. I scarfed down a barbecue-style wedding dinner consisting of three stiff gin and tonics, grilled goods, chips, potato salad, and watermelon. In lieu of myself, I pushed my girlfriend and her husband out onto the dance floor for half a dance before we left. As my designated drivers swirled, I people-watched -- me a voluntary wallflower scrutinizing the subtle interplay of mothers, fathers, step-father, siblings, bee-stung kid, and stratified worlds converging in one place to celebrate two people who at one point or another had touched each of us and invited us to share their special day.
As my friends drove me back I listened as they gently quibbled about the best route home and how he was driving. It was only a few years ago that I had gone to their wedding, one that was dreamy and fairy-tale-like with perfect photo backdrops and thought-out details. I made a note to self what just-the-right birthday gift would be for my girlfriend's upcoming thirtieth birthday. In keeping with the tradition of my late and great Aunt Tauty, I think it is time she had a moderately-priced flower vase.... My aunt always said that the key to a good marriage is the periodic smashing of the proverbial glass vase across the room. "It's the only way," she explained, "to get through to them. But you have to be smart about it or you will simply find yourself sweeping up glass without having gained anything." My aunt was an imposing, interesting, and intelligent woman who knew well when her well-articulated words were better transmuted into flying glass. "It makes a dramatic, eye-opening impact without anybody getting hurt."
I found a vase at Crate & Barrell today. Pretty enough to hold flowers for a while but cheap enough that you won't mind hurling it across the room if you need to. She probably won't need it but just in case.
Perhpas I should open a vase shop....
Said West Covina's assistant fire chief Jerry Johnson,"Whether terrorist act or just vandalism, it was an offense against the community." Hmmm. By offense against the community does he mean the firebombers or the Hummers? I would argue that a Hummer is much worse the offender.
And to those who would have us believe they are buying Hummers because they are 'safe,' and because they make petite soccer moms feel more patriotic, they ought to listen to the news a little more often. A whole lot of the soldiers and imbedded reporters who have been killed in Iraq have died in Hummer roll-over accidents...
OK let's talk about weddings...
"THE PROVERBIAL VASE"
Some of the table cards read "Cool Beans," while others read "Warm Fuzzies." I sat down at a table designated with the latter name. 'Cause I'll take a bowl of Hershey Chocolate Kisses (which is what 'Warm Fuzzies' referred to) over jelly beans ("Cool Beans") any day. I am speaking of a wedding ceremony I attended this weekend. I'm at an age where getting invited to weddings is a scarce occurrence. Not only that, unless there is a direct blood relationship, I can't get hubby to go to these rare-occasioned weddings and so I'm on my own when there is one to go to.
Everyone has their own ideas for what they want their wedding to be and this one was certainly quintessential and the very essence of my former co-worker. By the doorway to the old farmhouse, a toddler's purple plastic swimming pool was filled with drinks across from which was a table where lay a hand-made photo album/guest book filled with snapshots and exclamational sub-text of the couple's three-year courtship, along with old photos of their childhoods. There is a significant age difference between the two and so two different eras unfolded in the same album conjoined at the end by a good-looking balding man holding hands with an exuberantly smiling young woman on a craggy knoll in Ireland. "Oh look, 1973!," said my girlfriend looking at the picture of the groom as a young man, "that was the year I was born!" Whereas 1973 had me thinking about high school. The couple look happy in the photo and you wish with all your heart that the neatly stenciled cover page of their album will hold true: All You Need is Love....He is a forty-eight year-old musician -- she a presently unemployed high-techie who really isn't a high-techie; she just fell into it.
They said their vows under a tree -- a ceremony thankfully kept short I have to say given that we all were standing throughout. I normally wouldn't have minded really but my shoes were uncomfortable and on more than one occassion I had to suppress the urge to slap a mosquito off the person standing right in front of me. Which made me wonder if the person standing behind me was thinking the same thing. I hadn't eaten either and so the thought of maudlin drawn-out love poem exchanges was making me queasy. The home-written kind tend to do me in e.g. "You are my star from afar...." whereby I end up having to discreetly cough to stifle the laugh and/or gag reflex making their way up my throat.
But their vows were a tame affair. The bride had written her thoughts out on a large index card which she read to her husband-to-be. She expressed love, respect, and her enthusiasm that the relationship was getting 'funner and funner.' The groom chose the impromptu route. I don't remember all that was said but he was going to "work hard at making the relationship work" (spoken very insightfully, I thought, from a man almost twenty years her senior and married once before). Before exchanging rings, he ferreted out a gold-spray-painted wish bone from his pocket which they had been saving from a Thanksgiving feast for just such a special occasion. He asked the audience to make a wish (on the bride and groom's behalf he qualified). We laughed. They tugged. She dominated the match -- a tiny fragment of turkey bone was all that was left in his hands.
The band was really good but I was too hungry to dance. I scarfed down a barbecue-style wedding dinner consisting of three stiff gin and tonics, grilled goods, chips, potato salad, and watermelon. In lieu of myself, I pushed my girlfriend and her husband out onto the dance floor for half a dance before we left. As my designated drivers swirled, I people-watched -- me a voluntary wallflower scrutinizing the subtle interplay of mothers, fathers, step-father, siblings, bee-stung kid, and stratified worlds converging in one place to celebrate two people who at one point or another had touched each of us and invited us to share their special day.
As my friends drove me back I listened as they gently quibbled about the best route home and how he was driving. It was only a few years ago that I had gone to their wedding, one that was dreamy and fairy-tale-like with perfect photo backdrops and thought-out details. I made a note to self what just-the-right birthday gift would be for my girlfriend's upcoming thirtieth birthday. In keeping with the tradition of my late and great Aunt Tauty, I think it is time she had a moderately-priced flower vase.... My aunt always said that the key to a good marriage is the periodic smashing of the proverbial glass vase across the room. "It's the only way," she explained, "to get through to them. But you have to be smart about it or you will simply find yourself sweeping up glass without having gained anything." My aunt was an imposing, interesting, and intelligent woman who knew well when her well-articulated words were better transmuted into flying glass. "It makes a dramatic, eye-opening impact without anybody getting hurt."
I found a vase at Crate & Barrell today. Pretty enough to hold flowers for a while but cheap enough that you won't mind hurling it across the room if you need to. She probably won't need it but just in case.
Perhpas I should open a vase shop....
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