The Big One just came downstairs with her Mom and 'The Quote of the Day': "That's weird wedding music, but I have weird parents."
First, let me say: Our wedding didn't last this far into the album -- The Beastie Boys instrumental CD called The In Sound From Way Out.
Next, I will say: The song she was referring to is actually a little weird, but the rest of the album is jazzy and funky and fit us perfectly at the time.
Also, all parents are weird. It's caused by having children.
The girls were looking through our wedding album earlier. After they went upstairs to give themselves baths I looked through the pictures from that day, this day, thirteen years ago and wondered: Is that us?
We're at a scenic overlook in the desert just west of Vegas, being married by the Reverend Julie Nourish. Yeah, nourish. I remember asking my Fiance (at the time), "Is that her stage name?" Some Harleys pulled in and a pack of leather-clad bikers walked around behind our ceremony. It was a bizarre wedding, but we were adults and we were getting married for us.
I laugh when I look through the pictures. I'm getting cactused in every one. Seriously. Every one.
"It's a Joshua tree," my Wife always says, and it is, but it is either sticking out of or poking into my head in every picture from our wedding album. All of them.
I go through the pictures and I say, "Look, I'm getting cactused in this one. This one, too. Yep. Yep, cactused again." There is one where I am in profile and the cactus is sticking out of my head and halfway down my spine like I'm a well-groomed dinosaur in a tux.
As I page through the pictures I remember the Beastie Boys playing jazz from the boombox on top of our rented limo. I remember the opening of the fourth song, POW, where the volume picks up and our entire wedding party scrambled to turn the music down.
Everything after that has been a blur. The apartments and jobs, the friends and vacations, the children and the trips to see family, the sad times and the joy, it all blends together and here we are. Even the Beastie Boys are men now, grayed and worldly.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Written: Jan.21, 2012
The Little One cried at bedtime. It was quite unusual, typically she falls right asleep. The wife went up to check on her. I received the summary a couple minutes later.
The wife had gone into the bedroom and seen The Little One sitting up in bed.
"What happened, [Little One], why are you crying?
"I had a bad dweam," The Little One said.
"Oh, no. What was it about?"
She pointedly lifted and opened her hand so she could count on her fingers like we do when we list reasons she can't have another [insert toy/sweet here].
"Thwee things. One. I was the only one left on the earth. Two. I was going to die. And thwee. I was thinking about Chicken Licken."
"Wow. Is there anything I could do for you?" Mama replied.
"I'd weally like a cough dwop. I think the fever's kicking in, Mom."
She got a cough drop, though I think she meant Chicken Little.
The wife had gone into the bedroom and seen The Little One sitting up in bed.
"What happened, [Little One], why are you crying?
"I had a bad dweam," The Little One said.
"Oh, no. What was it about?"
She pointedly lifted and opened her hand so she could count on her fingers like we do when we list reasons she can't have another [insert toy/sweet here].
"Thwee things. One. I was the only one left on the earth. Two. I was going to die. And thwee. I was thinking about Chicken Licken."
"Wow. Is there anything I could do for you?" Mama replied.
"I'd weally like a cough dwop. I think the fever's kicking in, Mom."
She got a cough drop, though I think she meant Chicken Little.
Written 1/3/12
I read my short story called Sharing Words tonight at the open mic. The story is about my writers' group and opens with one of the members throwing up behind a tree during our first-ever outdoor meeting. The other two rip him apart when he gets back to the campfire, asking why he needs to drink so much, especially with people he knows so well. He claims he's happiest when he's drunk, but they know him better than that. Doesn't matter, he isn't going to change. He will continue to drink and get drunk and there's nothing they can do about it.
The story went over very well. I knew a couple of the regulars at the open mic are non-drinking alcoholics. I overheard them talking one night, so I assumed I would get a couple laughs. I did. In fact, I received several compliments after the show. I felt pretty good as I left the stage and one of my least favorite performers was on after me, so I went to the bathroom. I mulled around afterward, not wanting to sit down and distract everyone, then I remembered Tom said some of Murray's drawings were in the back room for sale. I went in and looked at them. They were small and mounted high on the wall, but good, worth craning my neck. I followed them down the long wall and turned and followed them back the opposite wall. I was almost to the corner when I noticed a giant cabinet -- indicating the drawings must have held my attention. There were books in racks on top of the cabinet.
I began to chuckle to myself. The books had titles like: Come to Believe, Pass It On, and Living Sober. I had been there dozens of times, even poked my head into the back room once or twice, and I had no idea it was an AA meeting place. What a night to find out. It was like I was performing an intervention on myself. And like so many interventions, nothing happened. I was at a bar half an hour later.
The story went over very well. I knew a couple of the regulars at the open mic are non-drinking alcoholics. I overheard them talking one night, so I assumed I would get a couple laughs. I did. In fact, I received several compliments after the show. I felt pretty good as I left the stage and one of my least favorite performers was on after me, so I went to the bathroom. I mulled around afterward, not wanting to sit down and distract everyone, then I remembered Tom said some of Murray's drawings were in the back room for sale. I went in and looked at them. They were small and mounted high on the wall, but good, worth craning my neck. I followed them down the long wall and turned and followed them back the opposite wall. I was almost to the corner when I noticed a giant cabinet -- indicating the drawings must have held my attention. There were books in racks on top of the cabinet.
I began to chuckle to myself. The books had titles like: Come to Believe, Pass It On, and Living Sober. I had been there dozens of times, even poked my head into the back room once or twice, and I had no idea it was an AA meeting place. What a night to find out. It was like I was performing an intervention on myself. And like so many interventions, nothing happened. I was at a bar half an hour later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)