Ah weather...there's a very inspiring prayer that's been attributed to a Protestant cleric, Reinhold Niebuhr - "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference." So today I'm praying for acceptance, because weather falls into that category. If a hurricane, any one of the three listed above which sound more like a Disney animated film than a storm, happens to land on our wedding, we have a back-up plan. Everyone will go to the rooftop terrace in town and huddle in the small rehearsal space. There is a kitchen there, in the back, and so if our caterer can make it, we'll have food. If not, we'll have our just desserts!
Yesterday I was crying in Whole Foods. Not because I was losing a daughter, or gaining a son. Really, that's pretty lame, after all, you never really lose a child. They are always there in the back of your mind or the pit of your stomach, rummaging around at the most inopportune times. You could be chopping carrots and wondering why your son is getting headaches. You could be watering the garden and wishing your daughter would highlight her hair! They even creep into your dreams, these adult children. But when my soon-to-be- bride called me in Whole Foods, to tell me she had been offered the Chief Resident position next year in Emergency Medicine, I was just beaming with pride in front of the bakery section. I could hear her elation over the phone, her joy, and I basked in her splendor. What an honor, how marvelous of her attendings to think she has the right stuff - but of course she does, she is my girl who stands with hands on hips! And I said, "But did you tell him you're getting married this week and want to have a baby this year?" She laughed, "No, Mom," she said. I wanted to hold her, and since I couldn't over these damnable cell phones, I gave her a virtual hug and hung up and promptly started crying over the pecan chocolate chip cookies.
I asked my husband if he'd still love me if I had a meltdown and started crying randomly in grocery stores. A couple of years ago, after losing my sense of smell due to a bad cold (ah, the virulent perks of being married to an ER physician), my nose started sniffing once again in the coffee aisle of Harris Tetter. Before that, if I could smell anything, like maybe a skunk, it smelled like rotten meat. My ENT doc said this happens - don't you just love the Martha's Vineyard car sticker that says "Fog Happens" - and that sometimes cranial nerves will regrow. Well, I'd given up hope since it had been a year and a half and 20 days... Food tasted like warm or cold mush; life almost wasn't worth living. So when the smell of coffee wafted up around me, I just started bawling. Just like that. I'm Irish, I'll cry when I'm happy and hold a grudge for forever! You try losing your sense of smell; I was one happy coffee shopper.
So they will both be Chiefs next year; the groom in Medicine, and applying for fellowships, and his bride in that specialty where every virus around will come home to him! Maybe they will land back in my state? Maybe not. But this year falls into the category of something I wouldn't change for the world!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Made in the USA
I received one of those long forwarded lists from a very good friend of mine back in NJ. She doesn't usually send me these things, not like my half-brother in Germany. He is in his 80's, retired air force who divorced his American wife and married a German woman, and usually sends me a few of these annoying things every week. Mostly they are right-wing wacky stuff, sometimes tearful, sentimental servicemen and women serving in hot places stuff. Every now and again, particularly the ones with pictures, will make me LOL. But to my utter amazement, on penalty of some catastrophe, I manage to delete them then and there. I stop the chain and will stand by any virtual consequences. But this one, from my friend, made me think. Maybe you've seen it?
"One light bulb at a time" was the header. It's about how one grasshopper on a train track won't slow down a train, but a billion would; it's about boycotting goods that are not made in this country. And how every little thing we buy is made somewhere else - even the GE light bulbs are made in Mexico. But, if you look at some generic brands, they are cheaper and sometimes made right here in the good ole USA. Well I don't know about you, but I've been doing this for years, looking at the small print...reading expiration dates...figuring out the best deal on garbage bags on the shelf through some simple mathematical equation, seeing between the lines of things. It's something we women call existing, or sometimes shopping. Brand loyalty, like many quaint things, is a thing of the past. Well, except for Tide. I still depend on Tide.
Last year I was going to visit my brother (this is another brother) and his beautiful wife in MS. They live in a wonderfully historic antebellum mansion. It's called Walter Place and is open for a Pilgrimage in April. I had just helped my daughter move to TN and my son's band was supposed to play in Oxford. Their daughter was scheduled to be married there in a few months, and so I looked for an appropriate gift to bring along. Mother taught me well, always bring a gift in hand when visiting. I looked in Macy's for a real picture album, since I know my brother is not computer savvy and likes to hold something in his hands. I found the best bridal picture album! Etched mirror, white satin, the works. NY designer - Kate Spade (check). Company - Lenox (check) - and then in tiny print "Made in China." I've told this story many times. Sometimes, they will try and mess with you and say it is assembled here, when really everything is made somewhere else. Like our cars, for example.
So I tried to find twine yesterday, yes twine that was made in America. Twine will be my elegant/rustic way of tying a sprig of rosemary around the napkins at the reception. It's impossible. It seems jute is made and spun in Pakistan or India....can you imagine how much it must cost to make it and ship those small round brown balls here for one or two dollars each? Was I supporting child labor? We will have locally farmed chicken, maybe Gulf Coast shrimp, but twine from Bollywood?? Feeling guilty, I got a response from Brian in Germany. He said we should make jobs south of the border, so they stay there and don't come across our borders to work illegally. But then, wouldn't we be importing more stuff from Mexico? I just read a quote on facebook that said,
"One light bulb at a time" was the header. It's about how one grasshopper on a train track won't slow down a train, but a billion would; it's about boycotting goods that are not made in this country. And how every little thing we buy is made somewhere else - even the GE light bulbs are made in Mexico. But, if you look at some generic brands, they are cheaper and sometimes made right here in the good ole USA. Well I don't know about you, but I've been doing this for years, looking at the small print...reading expiration dates...figuring out the best deal on garbage bags on the shelf through some simple mathematical equation, seeing between the lines of things. It's something we women call existing, or sometimes shopping. Brand loyalty, like many quaint things, is a thing of the past. Well, except for Tide. I still depend on Tide.
Last year I was going to visit my brother (this is another brother) and his beautiful wife in MS. They live in a wonderfully historic antebellum mansion. It's called Walter Place and is open for a Pilgrimage in April. I had just helped my daughter move to TN and my son's band was supposed to play in Oxford. Their daughter was scheduled to be married there in a few months, and so I looked for an appropriate gift to bring along. Mother taught me well, always bring a gift in hand when visiting. I looked in Macy's for a real picture album, since I know my brother is not computer savvy and likes to hold something in his hands. I found the best bridal picture album! Etched mirror, white satin, the works. NY designer - Kate Spade (check). Company - Lenox (check) - and then in tiny print "Made in China." I've told this story many times. Sometimes, they will try and mess with you and say it is assembled here, when really everything is made somewhere else. Like our cars, for example.
So I tried to find twine yesterday, yes twine that was made in America. Twine will be my elegant/rustic way of tying a sprig of rosemary around the napkins at the reception. It's impossible. It seems jute is made and spun in Pakistan or India....can you imagine how much it must cost to make it and ship those small round brown balls here for one or two dollars each? Was I supporting child labor? We will have locally farmed chicken, maybe Gulf Coast shrimp, but twine from Bollywood?? Feeling guilty, I got a response from Brian in Germany. He said we should make jobs south of the border, so they stay there and don't come across our borders to work illegally. But then, wouldn't we be importing more stuff from Mexico? I just read a quote on facebook that said,
Families are like fudge....mostly sweet with a few nuts!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Home Stretch
Every day the UPS brown guy, or gal, leaves a little something at my door. Last night it was four big cartons that were as light as a feather. Can you guess what it is? Well, my attempt to order this confection online failed, so I did it old school and picked up the phone. Lo and behold, they offered me a 20% discount because it was for a wedding!! Now you won't find that happening very often, on the land line no less. All I had to do was email them a copy of the invite or 'save the date,' which I promptly did. In my zeal to make this as local and sustainable a wedding as possible, I ordered pickle flavored potato chips from Route 11, a very eco-friendly and just plain nice company a few miles up the road. These snack size packages will be part of the welcoming gift bags at the hotel for our guests. There is a store in town that specializes in gifts from our fair state, including peanuts of all shapes and degrees of smokiness, that will pack and deliver gift bags to the hotels for free. And that's all I'll be saying about that, since some of you reading this will be attending the wedding and I wouldn't want to give away any wedding secrets.
Last night I had a dream about a dress. It had lace and was being fitted by a tailor. When I woke up I said, "Amen." Can't remember what I was amening, but I can tell you it's been a long time since I've had any trace of religion in my dreams. We've had a rainy spell, so maybe I was amening the rain since it means no more mornings spent hauling hoses around the yard. Or maybe I'm just grateful that my daughter seems happy lately on the phone. There was a period when she wasn't sleeping too well; her residency keeps her on swing shifts so I never know if she's working in one of three possible time zones. This morning she was brushing her teeth while talking to me, on purpose...I thought she had worked the 3 to midnight shift. But no, she worked all night and had just gotten home; I was about to take my shower and start my day and she was going to bed. It's almost cruel if you ask me, to keep changing their circadian rhythms. It would be better to just put them on one time zone for a few months and then gradually change them to the next. That's the way the police do it, and any other job that requires 24/7 coverage. Residents only get one day off between changing a shift to adjust. It's almost a form of psychological torture.
I've decided to set up a table in the basement and put all the various boxes with wedding paraphernalia downstairs. That way I'll be forced to organize all of it, and I won't be tripping over it in our "not so big" house. The potato chips are in the front hall, the DIY fan programs are on the kitchen table, and the assortment of china and fabric that will become tiered serving platters and decorations are in the living room. My Beehive event planner is afraid I'll be folding napkins the day of, and wants me to delegate. You see we bought the periwinkle napkins for 50 cents each at a Plow and Hearth sale months ago, and my plan is to tie each with twine and insert a twig of rosemary. I have plenty of rosemary in the garden; it translates to "dew of the sea," and symbolizes "remembrance and fidelity." Lavender will also figure heavily in our flavors and decor, and it means "loyalty." Even the orchids I ordered for the rooftop terrace will be lavender colored. They should be arriving by UPS early next week so I guess they'll go on the porch...I really want my daughter to remember this wedding! They forget so much, these kids.
It's the last two weeks, so I'm switching into zen mode. Someone told me recently if the bride is smiling and happy, the whole thing will be a success and everyone will enjoy the wedding. I love getting wedding advice and I'm determined to say "Yes" to everything, to take life as it comes. There is no reason to fight about tents, or worry about colors...maybe when it's all over, I could become a motivational speaker?
Last night I had a dream about a dress. It had lace and was being fitted by a tailor. When I woke up I said, "Amen." Can't remember what I was amening, but I can tell you it's been a long time since I've had any trace of religion in my dreams. We've had a rainy spell, so maybe I was amening the rain since it means no more mornings spent hauling hoses around the yard. Or maybe I'm just grateful that my daughter seems happy lately on the phone. There was a period when she wasn't sleeping too well; her residency keeps her on swing shifts so I never know if she's working in one of three possible time zones. This morning she was brushing her teeth while talking to me, on purpose...I thought she had worked the 3 to midnight shift. But no, she worked all night and had just gotten home; I was about to take my shower and start my day and she was going to bed. It's almost cruel if you ask me, to keep changing their circadian rhythms. It would be better to just put them on one time zone for a few months and then gradually change them to the next. That's the way the police do it, and any other job that requires 24/7 coverage. Residents only get one day off between changing a shift to adjust. It's almost a form of psychological torture.
I've decided to set up a table in the basement and put all the various boxes with wedding paraphernalia downstairs. That way I'll be forced to organize all of it, and I won't be tripping over it in our "not so big" house. The potato chips are in the front hall, the DIY fan programs are on the kitchen table, and the assortment of china and fabric that will become tiered serving platters and decorations are in the living room. My Beehive event planner is afraid I'll be folding napkins the day of, and wants me to delegate. You see we bought the periwinkle napkins for 50 cents each at a Plow and Hearth sale months ago, and my plan is to tie each with twine and insert a twig of rosemary. I have plenty of rosemary in the garden; it translates to "dew of the sea," and symbolizes "remembrance and fidelity." Lavender will also figure heavily in our flavors and decor, and it means "loyalty." Even the orchids I ordered for the rooftop terrace will be lavender colored. They should be arriving by UPS early next week so I guess they'll go on the porch...I really want my daughter to remember this wedding! They forget so much, these kids.
It's the last two weeks, so I'm switching into zen mode. Someone told me recently if the bride is smiling and happy, the whole thing will be a success and everyone will enjoy the wedding. I love getting wedding advice and I'm determined to say "Yes" to everything, to take life as it comes. There is no reason to fight about tents, or worry about colors...maybe when it's all over, I could become a motivational speaker?
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Playing Dress Up
Isn't it funny how time stands still in a department store? There are no windows so it's like a casino, you never know if the sun is going up or coming down. I have to admit, I miss the big department store days of NJ where we lived within a fifteen minute drive of three huge malls, including one that was newly built in Freehold with a Nordstrom. The Navy Dress came in the mail yesterday, and wonder of wonder, it fits! But it needs to be shortened to tea length, and the straps need adjusting so I high tailed it to the tailor. The straps are see-through silk crepe, so on the way home I stopped at our one and only indoor mall's department store last night, Belk, to buy a strapless bra. The bra cost almost as much as the dress but, hallelujah, they were having a sale!
Let me preface this tale with the book I just finished reading, "The Thoughtful Dresser," by Linda Grant. I read an article about it in a US Air magazine; it was about finding one red high heeled shoe in the Auschwitz museum's shoe display. This is a plexiglass box filled with all the discarded shoes of 25,000 Jewish people who came through the gates toward a final solution in one day. It is of course a symbolic display, and it got the author thinking about the woman who would wear such totally non-utilitarian shoes on her journey. She postulates that she must have loved them very much. Grant is a journalist who was short-listed for the Booker Prize and so I read this non-fiction book about what makes us women tick when it comes to clothes...and shoes. One thing I learned is that the women's movement really started with the flappers (aka my dear Mother). They were not afraid to show their legs, and ask for what they wanted. And then after WWII, we have the birth of the big department stores, like Bamberger's and Macy's, and they became a safe place for women to travel alone and seek the company of other women for shopping and dining. Men had golf, and 'men only' bars and clubs - we had the department store and nunneries. Before this, women pretty much stayed at home, or on the farm, didn't drive and depended on salesmen who would come door to door or a local fabric shop and seamstress for their clothing.
Well, last night I got that department store friendly sisterly feeling. The undergarment area was literally buzzing with women buying 'two for one' and all manner of spanks and nighties. They reminded me of the butterflies I watch sashaying around my flowers. Once I mentioned the wedding, we were off to the races. Women of all ages had something astute to tell me about weddings. I'm also concurrently reading about Marie Antoinette who got into alot of trouble for not wearing a corset; so I wondered aloud how different this new shapewear is to the girdles we flower children never ever wore. And I lamented about looking for the dress; "Why can't a designer make a dress for the average sized American woman that doesn't make her look like a stuffed sausage or a cupcake?" Really, I'd like to know. So any Parson's graduate out there, listen up! We are not all size 2!! We women of a certain age are mostly double digits; not plus, not uber thin - hello normal!
And on my way out, I passed the make-up counters. Now I used to hate those pushy make-uppy women who tried to tackle you in the aisle and spray you with cologne. But I thought to myself, buy some eyebrow pencil! There will be pictures taken at the wedding that will outlive me! And before you know it, I made an appointment to come back to Belk today and have a makeover!! I luxuriated in my time spent on the stool this morning, under harsh fluorescent lights and bought way too much Bobbi Brown make-up. But I now have eyebrows! Oh and plenty of undergarments!
Let me preface this tale with the book I just finished reading, "The Thoughtful Dresser," by Linda Grant. I read an article about it in a US Air magazine; it was about finding one red high heeled shoe in the Auschwitz museum's shoe display. This is a plexiglass box filled with all the discarded shoes of 25,000 Jewish people who came through the gates toward a final solution in one day. It is of course a symbolic display, and it got the author thinking about the woman who would wear such totally non-utilitarian shoes on her journey. She postulates that she must have loved them very much. Grant is a journalist who was short-listed for the Booker Prize and so I read this non-fiction book about what makes us women tick when it comes to clothes...and shoes. One thing I learned is that the women's movement really started with the flappers (aka my dear Mother). They were not afraid to show their legs, and ask for what they wanted. And then after WWII, we have the birth of the big department stores, like Bamberger's and Macy's, and they became a safe place for women to travel alone and seek the company of other women for shopping and dining. Men had golf, and 'men only' bars and clubs - we had the department store and nunneries. Before this, women pretty much stayed at home, or on the farm, didn't drive and depended on salesmen who would come door to door or a local fabric shop and seamstress for their clothing.
Well, last night I got that department store friendly sisterly feeling. The undergarment area was literally buzzing with women buying 'two for one' and all manner of spanks and nighties. They reminded me of the butterflies I watch sashaying around my flowers. Once I mentioned the wedding, we were off to the races. Women of all ages had something astute to tell me about weddings. I'm also concurrently reading about Marie Antoinette who got into alot of trouble for not wearing a corset; so I wondered aloud how different this new shapewear is to the girdles we flower children never ever wore. And I lamented about looking for the dress; "Why can't a designer make a dress for the average sized American woman that doesn't make her look like a stuffed sausage or a cupcake?" Really, I'd like to know. So any Parson's graduate out there, listen up! We are not all size 2!! We women of a certain age are mostly double digits; not plus, not uber thin - hello normal!
And on my way out, I passed the make-up counters. Now I used to hate those pushy make-uppy women who tried to tackle you in the aisle and spray you with cologne. But I thought to myself, buy some eyebrow pencil! There will be pictures taken at the wedding that will outlive me! And before you know it, I made an appointment to come back to Belk today and have a makeover!! I luxuriated in my time spent on the stool this morning, under harsh fluorescent lights and bought way too much Bobbi Brown make-up. But I now have eyebrows! Oh and plenty of undergarments!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Daisy Chain Days
We're coming down the home stretch. Nobody warned me about how much time and energy would be required to "spruce up" the homestead for our Big Day. Even though the ceremony will be on the mountain, and the dinner will be, well either up on the mountain or on a rooftop, we'll still be entertaining at home to beat the band on our holiday weekend wedding. Some people are coming early, and I don't mean Friday. And also our daughter asked us to host the morning-after brunch at home. Of course I said, "Of course, Sweetheart!" Wouldn't you? My MIL had wanted to do the brunch at the hotel, so I was sorry to disappoint her. She asked if she could help me with it, and all I could think to say was, "Do you think I'll be cooking?" I hate when my fuse gets short, which is pretty much all the time now. My plan is to raid Whole Foods for quiche and croissants. Meanwhile, I'm spending most mornings glowing from hours spent outside in 98 degree heat.
You see we had to refurbish the landscape and bring our little house up to its beauty code. Some trees and shrubs were lost this past winter when we experienced more snow than I've ever seen in the Berkshires (well, almost). And now, after a prolonged drought, some others are looking pretty scraggly. A neighbor told me that it can take two to three years for their root systems to get established and since we built here a little over two years ago and used an unscrupulous gardening center to do some planting, it was time to drag out the dead and plant something new. Nothing like a big event to get your DIY on. I had a moment of multi-tasking synthesis, and managed to order all the plants and shrubs I needed over the phone while simultaneously waiting for a repairman at our investment home. Then I went over and approved all the gorgeous things Heidi picked out at Ivy Nursery (the most wonderful nursery ever!) and arranged for delivery: 3 dogwood trees, 1 rhododendron; 5 azaleas; 2 hollies; and a golden cypress. Well and some little perennials too. Every other day I'm soaking every single tree we planted, and running a sprinkler on the azalea/holly grove. I can only hope our well holds out.
If you happen to have a DIY bride, and I know of at least one reader who loved my idea of the fan program with the family tree, my daughter sent me the best site ever. Well, maybe next to Etsy which she swears by and is ordering all her wedding gifts on. It's Daisy Days andyou can find all different kinds of fan programs that they will be only too glad to print, or if you're like me, you can order the DIY paper stock and sticks and prepare to put your printer into overdrive. Shall I confess that I lost two whole hours looking at A2 card stock paper until I found this site? I wanted to actually use a really cute local store, Rock Paper Scissors, and they were very helpful, but the cost ranged from thousands to a low of $600 for a custom order. For a quarter of that cost, we'd rather do it ourselves. It is a job I am saving for the maid of honor, my surrogate daughter, who is coming very early to help. Here's a little secret that my MIL would probably not like to get out, I ordered my dress online! I joined The Knot online community, I know a little late, but, and was directed to a store with the perfect MOB dress....oh, and don't get me started on the wonders of Pay Pal!!
You see we had to refurbish the landscape and bring our little house up to its beauty code. Some trees and shrubs were lost this past winter when we experienced more snow than I've ever seen in the Berkshires (well, almost). And now, after a prolonged drought, some others are looking pretty scraggly. A neighbor told me that it can take two to three years for their root systems to get established and since we built here a little over two years ago and used an unscrupulous gardening center to do some planting, it was time to drag out the dead and plant something new. Nothing like a big event to get your DIY on. I had a moment of multi-tasking synthesis, and managed to order all the plants and shrubs I needed over the phone while simultaneously waiting for a repairman at our investment home. Then I went over and approved all the gorgeous things Heidi picked out at Ivy Nursery (the most wonderful nursery ever!) and arranged for delivery: 3 dogwood trees, 1 rhododendron; 5 azaleas; 2 hollies; and a golden cypress. Well and some little perennials too. Every other day I'm soaking every single tree we planted, and running a sprinkler on the azalea/holly grove. I can only hope our well holds out.
If you happen to have a DIY bride, and I know of at least one reader who loved my idea of the fan program with the family tree, my daughter sent me the best site ever. Well, maybe next to Etsy which she swears by and is ordering all her wedding gifts on. It's Daisy Days and
Friday, August 6, 2010
It's Good to Laugh
Yesterday we had another brilliant thunderstorm. The temps plummeted from 90+ to 70's in a half hour and trees fell all around us as we headed for home after a day spent looking for MOB dresses - still no luck - and walking the orchard to determine tent placement. I am trying not to stress out over this, but we are T minus one month and my wonderful husband now wants to go back to square one and forgetaboutda tent on the mountain. He thinks we should just feed people standing up, on the rooftop terrace. I initially suggested this when he started to complain about the tent, and our inability to place it right in front of a barn where we wanted it. I never dreamed he'd agree. I was trying out that psychological trick - enter into the fantasy with them, then they will come to the right conclusion. It didn't work!
But we had a good laugh. We were discussing the "family tree fan program." I spent a half day changing the publisher text boxes to script, and managed to move the names around (names went all the way back to the couple's great grandparents) in order to make them look somewhat beautiful in amongst the tree's branches, in a gestalt kinda way. But he wanted them traveling up separate branches so that people could follow the family lineage lines; and I'd ruined his symmetry. I always colored outside the lines - you can see the problem. We started to argue. And then, all of a sudden, he started to laugh. It was a real belly laugh and he was crying, the laughter came out so strong. I didn't get it. And you have to understand that we've been married over 30 years and I usually get it, even before he does! He was laughing, and crying, so hard I had to wait 'till he could talk for the explanation. And it was good, because it sent me right up there laughing with him, till I thought I'd pee in my seat. He said, "I'm not sure why it's so important to me to make sense of our family."
All the Jewish names go up the left side of the tree. The Irish names fill in the middle and the right side of the tree. There is really no explanation why some marriages work and others don't. Many people thought we'd never last, and yet, here we are, still laughing, still very much in love. We are less than a month to a wedding, and yet I know with him by my side everything will be alright. My daughter called me tonight. She said her groom-to-be has so much to do; he has to have his applications ready for a fellowship before the wedding, he has a big presentation to make to his colleagues, and he's going to be Chief next year and has to work out a schedule where they will no longer have to take "call." In other words, this is the last group of residents who will be so unbelievably sleep-deprived, you would never want them making life and death decisions about your family member. Still, she made him go to a swimming pool with her today- on this rare day they had off together - and told him he could work in the sun! After all, this is my Jersey Shore girl, she has seen people working on the beach...it's not altogether impossible. She adds spice to his life, he adds centering. You can see that they will be laughing together for many years to come!
But we had a good laugh. We were discussing the "family tree fan program." I spent a half day changing the publisher text boxes to script, and managed to move the names around (names went all the way back to the couple's great grandparents) in order to make them look somewhat beautiful in amongst the tree's branches, in a gestalt kinda way. But he wanted them traveling up separate branches so that people could follow the family lineage lines; and I'd ruined his symmetry. I always colored outside the lines - you can see the problem. We started to argue. And then, all of a sudden, he started to laugh. It was a real belly laugh and he was crying, the laughter came out so strong. I didn't get it. And you have to understand that we've been married over 30 years and I usually get it, even before he does! He was laughing, and crying, so hard I had to wait 'till he could talk for the explanation. And it was good, because it sent me right up there laughing with him, till I thought I'd pee in my seat. He said, "I'm not sure why it's so important to me to make sense of our family."
All the Jewish names go up the left side of the tree. The Irish names fill in the middle and the right side of the tree. There is really no explanation why some marriages work and others don't. Many people thought we'd never last, and yet, here we are, still laughing, still very much in love. We are less than a month to a wedding, and yet I know with him by my side everything will be alright. My daughter called me tonight. She said her groom-to-be has so much to do; he has to have his applications ready for a fellowship before the wedding, he has a big presentation to make to his colleagues, and he's going to be Chief next year and has to work out a schedule where they will no longer have to take "call." In other words, this is the last group of residents who will be so unbelievably sleep-deprived, you would never want them making life and death decisions about your family member. Still, she made him go to a swimming pool with her today- on this rare day they had off together - and told him he could work in the sun! After all, this is my Jersey Shore girl, she has seen people working on the beach...it's not altogether impossible. She adds spice to his life, he adds centering. You can see that they will be laughing together for many years to come!
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