This Must Be The Place

Sixteen years ago, a couple in their early thirties pledged to love each other in front of a few dear, amazing friends and family in a modest back yard in Carpinteria, CA. The groom wore a seafoam green suit with a multi-colored tie, the bride wore an ivory silk tea dress that had layers that fluttered in the ocean breezes. The cake was late (and frozen), biplanes flew overhead during the groom's vows, drowning him out and causing the guests to laugh. The bride, a notorious sap, who cried at commercials (and still does on occasion) was uncharacteristically dry eyed, sober as she was, clear as she was that this was the biggest, most important decision she had ever made. To say yes to the complexity of marriage to this man. When the ceremony was over, they danced to this song.



And you're standing here beside me. I love the passage of time.

Happy Anniversary my Love.

If someone asks, this is where I'll be.

Days Aren't Long Enough

Fourteen years ago this Earth Day, Richard Nixon died.

And I became Mrs. McQ. It was a small wedding, held in Mr. McQ's parents backyard. I wore a crinkly silk dress that fit in a little tiny bag, and he was so handsome in his seafoam blue suit with jewel colored tie. A small but crucial clutch of friends and family gathered to witness as we pledged that we'd do our best to wake up every day together, and still be married by day's end. We wrote our own vows, and hired someone at the courthouse to come and seal the deal. She was very sweet and sort of large and wore a really purple dress and she cried through most of the ceremony. I thought I'd be the one to blubber through the whole thing, but I was amazingly calm, centered and present. For once. I say this, because Mr. McQ himself will tell you I'm a sap. I cry fairly easily, and I ALWAYS cry at weddings. Luckily, it's something he finds endearing. During Mr. McQ's vows, noisy bi-planes flew overhead, causing everyone to miss his sacred promises (which involved the phrase "whole enchilada"), but I heard them.

After the ceremony, we all walked two blocks to the beach, where everyone bravely crossed the rocky train tracks (including all the women in their heels), as we reenacted the Mr.'s proposal on the log on the bluffs. We'd handed out disposable cameras in lieu of a photographer, because our budget wouldn't allow it, and everyone snapped away. Then we came back and we danced to "Naive Melody" by The Talking Heads. There was cake, miraculously, even though the baker forgot about our wedding. After a frantic call that I didn't know about, he delivered it after the ceremony. As a cost-cutting measure, the Mister's lovely Aunt Fran had agreed to decorate our very basic white cake with fresh flowers, but since it was so late, she just plopped in my sister's bouquet as a topper. Honestly, it looked gorgeous and I never would have been the wiser if, when cutting the cake, we hadn't noticed that it was frozen. There was an inadvertently hilarious toast by my sweet daddy, rest his ever-lovin' soul, and delicious catered food, and more dancing and laughing and hugging.

For the next couple days, we took folks to the airport, and the day after that, we got on the road ourselves for our honeymoon up the California Coast, back to Seattle, and the rest of our lives.

In the intervening years, we've had the normal ups and downs: we've seen a therapist, had a baby, changed careers (for the time being), moved (five times), mourned lost friends and family, celebrated milestones, gained weight (both of us), lost weight (him), gained weight (me), and cleaned up a metric ton of cat poop. And there is no one, not one other person on earth, that I would rather have the depth of that history with.

Fourteen years have gone by like we're caught in some crazy movie, forever on fast forward. I want to just hit the pause button for a few minutes and savor it, but since that isn't possible, I'll do my best to celebrate the perfect imperfection of our days: dishes undone, short tempers, exhaustion, longing, laughter and unspoken deeds of affection.
Oh, and the hot old people s-e-x.

To my friends in the ether: I hope the following song gives your day a lift.
And To My Sweetie, thank you for this life we're building. It's a work in progress, isn't it?
Let's keep at it, and see how it all turns out.

"We'll remember how it was, then begin again because
days are never long enough"

celebration

Today there were, as my dad used to say, "Big Doin's" around here. My niece is officially a newlywed, as is her groom, and it all came off splendidly, thanks in no small part to the best ring bearer ever. On our way to the estate where they held the wedding, I was sitting in the back seat with my sweet fella, and I told him how handsome he looked. He said "I have to look handsome. This is very serious business." Indeed. And he took all his instructions to behave to heart, and was every inch a gentleman until he hit the dance floor, then he cut loose with some serious moves. One of the wedding guests said to my husband "what a shame he's so painfully shy!"

My little family unit looked splendid. Joe-Henry, decked out in his white tux, which he kept on until bedtime, giving us one of the most amazing concerts ever. It's lost in the ether because we were all too mesmerized to make a move for the camera. Suffice to say - he brought the house down. My hubband, in his clan kilt, looking so handsome, and sparking everyone's interest as to what he might be wearing under that kilt (nothing but the cool evening breeze and his wife's good graces), and I managed to clean up alright. Although the weather wrought havoc with my hair, turning it into kind of a frizzy halo, but I gave up worrying about it when I saw my niece.

She was a beautiful, no, gorgeous bride, and her groom was dangerously handsome. They have been soooo calm this past week, and I think they were able to enjoy every minute of their wedding. My niece is one of those poised young women who never really went through an awkward phase. She always seems to be so grounded, and is one of the wisest people I know. Her new husband has such a great sense of humor and you can tell by looking at them, the way they are together, that it's just meant to be. They will have a grand adventure of a marriage.

My older brother, the father of the bride, gave the toast to end all toasts. It was heartfelt, emotional, sweet, funny, tender and joyful. He was so nervous before hand, but he held it together and brought tears to everyone's eyes. Even Joe-Henry, who as you know, is a total shrinking violet, knew better than to try to follow Uncle Jim's class act!

I love weddings. Not just the day itself, but the days before and after, when you get to see family and friends you haven't seen in forever, and everyone is caught up in the joy of the event. Even when it's awkward (and when you have family, there's bound to be awkwardness), it's wonderful. They bring out the best, and sometimes the worst in people, but they remind us of all the good things in this life: family, love, laughter and friendship. The things that sustain us in our worst moments, and give us cause to celebrate all the little joys we take for granted every day.

I have a houseful of sleeping fellas: my brother Dale, who I haven't seen in way too long; the love of my life, sawing logs in the next room; and Joe-Henry, who just did a little drum solo in his sleep. I'm sleepy myself, and need to get some rest - the Easter Bunny comes tomorrow, early, and I'd like to catch him, if I can.

But oh, it was a beautiful day, and it's nice to sit here in the peace of the evening, letting it wash over me again.

white dress shoes

My niece is getting married in a couple weeks. I had a shower for her here last Saturday (thus the scarcity of new material from me - I was braindead from cleaning and whacked out on the fumes from my hot glue gun). I think the bride had a good time, and it was appropriately awkward, since I only knew three people in the room, the rest were related to the groom. But everyone was nice, and it kicked off the start of the avalanch of wedding events that are sure to overtake everyone and everything in the next little while, rolling us up in giant balls of tulle and little candy mints.

I am very happy for my niece. She's marrying a good man (even though I suspect he MAY be a Republican), and they are truly a great match. And Joe-Henry gets to be the ring bearer. He'll wear a white tuxedo. All I could think of when she told me about it was that guy in "Mystery Date". Do you remember that game? (Are you anywhere near as old as I am? Probably not, but humor me....) I always thought that guy was soooo boring. I wanted to go out with the scruffy guy instead. He looked like a lot more fun. But when I took Joe-Henry for the fitting today, I got it. He looked sooooo handsome, dare I say dreamy, in the jacket that they use for fitting. I ask you: how I will keep from crying buckets of tears at the sight of my niece in her bridal gown, my brother in his tux and my son, in his own little mini-man tux? The answer is: I won't. I plan on taking an extra large hankie. I mean, I cry at weddings where I don't even know the people, so there is really no hope of me getting out of this thing without ruining my make-up.

We're having a problem finding shoes, though (of course). The one's that come with the tux don't even come close, and I may have to make a special trip to Stride-Rite. We've never owned a pair of dress shoes for him, and I really, really hope we can find some. If all else fails, I might be able to find white sneakers, but I don't think he'd go for that. He wants to wear fancy shoes. And I'm going to do everything I can to find them. A boy doesn't wear a tux every day, he ought to feel as fabulous as possible.