3 posts tagged “wedding”

Yesterday was our 12 year anniversary, 10 of them recognized by the law.

Let it burn motherfucker!

We've all still got some ass to kick.

Counting the Years

My mind's eye sees us young.

This group peeling layers off the great onion of life.

Jobs became careers and girlfriends turned into wives.

And I add it together and piece it apart.

I've had the same wife for nine years, today.

But I can't keep a bottle for more than a week.

Yes we've had two houses, two kids and two dogs before that.

We hold them, and fix them, and pay all their bills.

Wherever we'll go, that's where home will be at.

And in all, we've been together for eleven years, today.

But I can't keep a bottle for more than a week.

I'm an uncle and wife's an aunt for the very first time, today.

Careful maturing and aging, the form is an art.

See that's the distiller you know, me I'm just an old fart.

Friends married, bought houses and bred.

None of that kept me up nights in my bed.

But I can't keep a bottle for more than a week.

Selfish for sure, but this will be honestly selfish.

My mind says I can't be old enough to know a widow.

The bottle drains quick, looking for meaning or reason.

Some always died, sure, stretching back a long line

Those were the legends, the ghosts kept alive in their stories

And I didn't feel old knowing spouses, or parents, or uncles and aunts.

But the widow.  The survivor of death of a spouse.

Knowing a widow in the group, my memory keeps us so young.

That's the one that has me feeling the aches and the bruises.

Cold and unfeeling, it's the life that hands out these titles,

Now how we live with that life tag

That's what'll define us.

Me, I can't keep a bottle for more than a week.

So, some recap of this week:

Tuesday afternoon the Grandparents-in-law from California arrived and I picked them up from the airport.

Just in time for rush-hour traffic on the way back home on the 94 and 75.

Wednesday morning, we drove down to the airport, through morning rush traffic on 75 and 94 to catch a flight to Nashville for a short layover and then on to L.A.

Where we arrived just in time for afternoon rush on 405 to 101.

That's a lot of rush hour for one 24 hour period, but hey, it's our first kid-free vacation since the youngest arrived six months ago.

But this vacation has a purpose, so it's not dirty.

This vacation is ostensibly for the wedding of a friend, who started out as the younger brother of a friend, but who grew into a full-fledged member of the crew as we all got older.

He even attended the same university as the wife and I, but didn't attend until after we'd graduated.

Even had the same major.

So, same dorms, same profs, same buildings, and same bars.

A bit weird that somebody you know ends up with so many of the same memories that you have, but acquired independently of yours.

So, we've been here a few days, and it seems like a week or more given the amount of activity and drinking that's been going on.  Fitting three or four days worth of living into each 24 hour period.

I'm beat, but there are a few more days left of the craziness, so I will soldier on through it, knowing that I have to savor this now,  because I have to be a responsible parent-type again by the middle of next week, for who knows how long at a stretch next time before we can cut loose again.

Yesterday, it was back down 101 to 405 to meet my wife's ex-boss at her new agency to catchup and nosh.

Though my wife's from North of L.A. she never spent much time in the actual city, so it was nice to have an excuse to actually get down there with a guide to navigate us around to a good place to eat and some suggestions for the rest of the afternoon.

After lunch, we waded through surf at Manhattan Beach and then took scenic PCH back up to Ventura County.

Then it was more drinking and eating, and being loud and obnoxious and scaring shit out of the bride and her family wondering what in good gravy they were getting married into.

I remember a key lime pie martini with graham cracker crumbs around the rim.

I remember an Italian restaurant that was way too nice for us and too us.

I think I peed there, cuz I remember there being really nice tile up along the walls.

Then walking, and a Thai restaurant that caught our eye and amazing Pad Prik King with green beans.

Then a hotel, more drinking, lots of suites, a nice barkeep that used her church-key to open a beer I'd bought at the store, but didn't have an opener for.

Raspberry vodka in a room with mango mixer.  Arrogant Bastard Ale that I can't find in the Midwest, but that I loved in college and that I always look for in Seattle or Cali.

A drive home, that was in all likelihood, irresponsible.

Waking up with a mean craving for IHOP.

Now it's off to the beach and the bottle.

And I'll write more, eventually, probably next week about what little I will remember of the rest of this week when the jet-lag and hangover subside.