RUMINATIONS UPON AN EVENING IN QUEENS . . .

I really hate Queens. Sorry, Jimbo and Jaime, but I really do. It just ain't me. And it's just not car- or direction-friendly. And there are lots of smelly trucks there. Pretty much the only thing that is cool about Queens is that Chinese dim-sum place that Dr.K took us to, and the fact that it has two airports. I love airports.

***

The wedding was fun, actually. It was good to spend time with Boms and coach her piano accompaniment of the wedding ceremony. (More minor chords, Boms, always more minor chords.) It was good to see Flacon in satiny sage green, and frankly, if the non-chagrined look on his face was any indication, I think he rather enjoyed his short foray into the world of color. (The fake-tie concept, in particular, was eye-opening.) It was good to see S happy and receiving all he deserves. (The white three-piece tuxedo in the humongous photo that greeted guests was ... blinding.) It was good to be able to giggle incessantly with friends as we waggled our eyebrows at just about everything that transpired during the reception. (Sooooo many notes-to-self, I need to buy a whole new notebook.) It was good to be the last ones to leave the party. (I don't know what it is about us New Hopers. We sure do like to linger.)

***

Little Jess was a mess at the end of the ceremony, all tears and waving hands and drama. And yes, she actually said, "it was just too beautiful to handle!" Is it her (she's, like SEVEN YEARS OLD or something) or is it me? I think I just don't view weddings the way some women (or girls) do. The wedding itself holds no real appeal to me, when I think of the potential of my own. Heck, I don't even want a diamond engagement ring (Mabel just fell off her chair in horror). No, I'd rather just hitch up in my parents' back yard, and then fire up the grills for all our friends and family and dance away the afternoon in warm autumn sunshine. Preferably in jeans, but my mother and Mabel would kill me. Actually, if I did something like this, Mabel, Soybean, Charlie, Ha, Nance and Banana would all take turns killing me anyway because there would be nothing for them to do and that would drive them up a wall, I think. But when I think about marriage, that's what I think about: marriage. It is the prospect of building a life with someone, living through the day-to-day, solving each day's problems and receiving each morning's blessings, figuring out what to eat for dinner and what bills to pay when and which car to purchase and which bank to set up a mortgage with, resolving who's going to change the baby's diaper in the middle of the night and how to set ground rules for punishment and deciding the depth of our involvement in our church community, learning about each other every day and growing in love because of these things, walking faithfully with the Lord in building a family and community until the day I die ... these are the things that actually excite me and make me look forward to getting married. The wedding day itself (and the diamond on my finger) ... I can do without. Even if it is just too beautiful to handle.

***

What happens when you put two girls, all dressed up, in a car and send them on their way up the Sprain Brook Parkway? They get pulled over by the State Police.

Duly noted that:

1. State police cars' high-beamed headlights are really, really bright.

2. The flashlight that troopers shine into the driver's side window when they ask for "license and registration, please" is also really, really bright.

3. A proper response to "you were swerving in your lane and I just wanted to make sure you were alright to drive" is most likely not, "oh, she was telling me a story."

4. Nor is it likely to be, "oh, we were at a wedding" because then the next question IS going to be, "were you drinking?" and then any answer akin to "no" just sounds like a big fat lie.

5. Goofily adding "don't worry, it was a church-wedding, totally dry" probably does not help to bolster the "no."

6. I hate to say it but I think it's true: being a diminutive and young-looking Asian woman with makeup on helps in situations like this. Urgh. Makes me nauseous to say it but I think I speak truth. Rock on, Boms. Always an adventure.

***

I spent thirty minutes of the reception on the phone with DYC, NHF's pseudo-personal attorney, listening to lawyer-talk and pretending to give lawyer-talk back of my own. It was strange, doing "business" during a major social event -- I felt like some character on television. You know, the one who gets beeped during her daughter's wedding and just HAS to take the call. It was even stranger to have other NHF officials be making eye contact with me while I was on the phone, waggling their eyebrows, pointing at themselves wondering if DYC wanted to talk to them (which of course, he did), pointing at each other as if to pawn off responsibility, rolling their eyes at me and DYC making a big deal of something which actually sort of IS a big deal but no one else seems to care that it is, and throwing pieces of paper my way whenever the scrap I was taking notes on ran out of room. It was the most A.D.D. and spastic business meeting I have ever been a part of, with Billy Joel and Amy Grant crooning in the background. Bizarre.

***

Oh you know it.
There was an ice sculpture.
And you KNOW I had to take a picture.
With my tongue on it.
I just had to.