Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wedding-ish Pictures.
I didn't get a lot of pictures at Sarah's wedding, though my camera was around for a few shots. Take a look.
Pre-wedding portraits. Sarah and I got ready too quickly and ended up watching HGTV in the hotel room for an hour.
The two of us. She looks better than I do, but that's her job. She's the bride.
Before we got our hair done, we stopped at Mojo Lounge for some water and muffins.
We spent a good twenty minutes looking at this kid studiously doing his homework in front of Mojo Lounge. I snuck a photograph of him and then felt a little creepy. I'm trying to remember if there was some rule about sneaking pictures of little kids in photojournalism school.
I think that I'm dancing or something. I'm not sure who took this photograph. Speaking of dancing, one of the funniest moments of the evening was when Sarah and her father stepped onto the dance floor for the father/daughter dance. Through a minor glitch in the music, the song skipped. It took a few seconds for us to realize what happened: Sarah and her dad were dancing to "Brickhouse." Nice.
Here's a picture of Bryan and I near our space along the wall. We had a grand time people watching from this position. I feel like all these pictures are so strange, because I don't look a thing like myself. (And I couldn't see a thing, either.)
So. Overall, it was a lovely wedding. Of course I cried (into the microphone) during the speech. And I love that I said (into the microphone), "I can't remember why it is that I thought that you two would be good togther." Everyone laughed, even though it wasn't a joke. But in all serious-ity, I can't imagine Sarah without Ryan or Ryan without Sarah. (I have some pictures of Ryan, by the way, but they're all terrible.)
I didn't get a lot of pictures at Sarah's wedding, though my camera was around for a few shots. Take a look.
Pre-wedding portraits. Sarah and I got ready too quickly and ended up watching HGTV in the hotel room for an hour.
The two of us. She looks better than I do, but that's her job. She's the bride.
Before we got our hair done, we stopped at Mojo Lounge for some water and muffins.
We spent a good twenty minutes looking at this kid studiously doing his homework in front of Mojo Lounge. I snuck a photograph of him and then felt a little creepy. I'm trying to remember if there was some rule about sneaking pictures of little kids in photojournalism school.
I think that I'm dancing or something. I'm not sure who took this photograph. Speaking of dancing, one of the funniest moments of the evening was when Sarah and her father stepped onto the dance floor for the father/daughter dance. Through a minor glitch in the music, the song skipped. It took a few seconds for us to realize what happened: Sarah and her dad were dancing to "Brickhouse." Nice.
Here's a picture of Bryan and I near our space along the wall. We had a grand time people watching from this position. I feel like all these pictures are so strange, because I don't look a thing like myself. (And I couldn't see a thing, either.)
So. Overall, it was a lovely wedding. Of course I cried (into the microphone) during the speech. And I love that I said (into the microphone), "I can't remember why it is that I thought that you two would be good togther." Everyone laughed, even though it wasn't a joke. But in all serious-ity, I can't imagine Sarah without Ryan or Ryan without Sarah. (I have some pictures of Ryan, by the way, but they're all terrible.)
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Food and Weather.
In high school, all of my poetry was about trees and God.
Ten years later, all I want to write about is the weather and food.
It's not that there aren't writeworthy things going on in my life. It's the contrary, really. In the last month, I've been in Tanzania with Beth. I've been in North Carolina on a beach-centered church retreat. Wedding season is here, as well. One wedding down this month - three to go. Including Sarah's. Next weekend, I will watch - and speak - as my best friend marries the (very good) dude I hooked her up with several years ago on St. Patrick's Day. That's exciting, right?
There are so many things worth detailing for the world to read, but my mind is centered around things like blueberry lavender scones and walking tacos. I went baking crazy the other night, because the weather is turning and it's my time of year. Autumn. This is when I shine, when things become clearer to me, when the world opens up and I'm no longer confined by my thought patterns. Freedom. It's nice.
So. The blueberry lavender scones were a food gift. They sit on my desk at work and I eat one each morning with a pint of coffee. I turn off the overhead lighting and use the desk lamp as I anticipate the taste of lavender. New music flows from the laptop because Autumn is a time for new music. And I work.
The walking taco is romantic, but in a different way. Between Africa and North Carolina (which have become elements of time, rather than actual places), I went to a high school football game. To see my kids, the high school kids who nestled their way into my heart in the past year. One is on the football team; I never really had a friend on the football team in high school. Now I do. Several girls are in the band. I saw them during third quarter, when the band members are allowed to act as civilian-ey as they can in polyester and funny hats. And then there were the girls in the stands. They call the cheering section "The Rage Cage." Girls scrambled down the bleachers and screamed and jumped up and down and hugged me and told me that I look skinny. (Can you see why I love working with high school kids?)
But I need to write about the walking taco. In high school, I never had money. If I did, it went straight into the bank, so I could purchase that lovely Chevy Cavalier that lasted throughout college. But a few Fridays ago, I had a $20 bill, which allowed me to have Whatever I Wanted from the Concession Stand. And so I did just that. I bought Whatever I Wanted, which turned out to be meat and cheese sauce poured into a bag of Fritos. I hate Fritos. The walking taco was a disappointment, to be sure. I felt self conscious, as no one else was eating a walking taco. In retrospect, perhaps I was lucky to have financial constraints while I was in high school. There's no experimenting when you're short on cash. You get the pizza.
Here's a picture from the football game.
In high school, all of my poetry was about trees and God.
Ten years later, all I want to write about is the weather and food.
It's not that there aren't writeworthy things going on in my life. It's the contrary, really. In the last month, I've been in Tanzania with Beth. I've been in North Carolina on a beach-centered church retreat. Wedding season is here, as well. One wedding down this month - three to go. Including Sarah's. Next weekend, I will watch - and speak - as my best friend marries the (very good) dude I hooked her up with several years ago on St. Patrick's Day. That's exciting, right?
There are so many things worth detailing for the world to read, but my mind is centered around things like blueberry lavender scones and walking tacos. I went baking crazy the other night, because the weather is turning and it's my time of year. Autumn. This is when I shine, when things become clearer to me, when the world opens up and I'm no longer confined by my thought patterns. Freedom. It's nice.
So. The blueberry lavender scones were a food gift. They sit on my desk at work and I eat one each morning with a pint of coffee. I turn off the overhead lighting and use the desk lamp as I anticipate the taste of lavender. New music flows from the laptop because Autumn is a time for new music. And I work.
The walking taco is romantic, but in a different way. Between Africa and North Carolina (which have become elements of time, rather than actual places), I went to a high school football game. To see my kids, the high school kids who nestled their way into my heart in the past year. One is on the football team; I never really had a friend on the football team in high school. Now I do. Several girls are in the band. I saw them during third quarter, when the band members are allowed to act as civilian-ey as they can in polyester and funny hats. And then there were the girls in the stands. They call the cheering section "The Rage Cage." Girls scrambled down the bleachers and screamed and jumped up and down and hugged me and told me that I look skinny. (Can you see why I love working with high school kids?)
But I need to write about the walking taco. In high school, I never had money. If I did, it went straight into the bank, so I could purchase that lovely Chevy Cavalier that lasted throughout college. But a few Fridays ago, I had a $20 bill, which allowed me to have Whatever I Wanted from the Concession Stand. And so I did just that. I bought Whatever I Wanted, which turned out to be meat and cheese sauce poured into a bag of Fritos. I hate Fritos. The walking taco was a disappointment, to be sure. I felt self conscious, as no one else was eating a walking taco. In retrospect, perhaps I was lucky to have financial constraints while I was in high school. There's no experimenting when you're short on cash. You get the pizza.
Here's a picture from the football game.
