So, I have nine million photographs of C. and T.'s wedding that will, in the days to come, get their moments in the sun. But I'd just like to start with the one. And then say a thing or two. She-Who-Has-No-Blog and I went up and said a few words as SAIC representatives and, as I often do, I lost my train of thought and did not say half the things I could have or, even, should have. So today on the plane I started thinking about what I would have said if I had had any idea that I was going to say anything. So, this is going to be a bit of a ramble...way too much info really, but whatever. It will be in speech form. Thank you very much.
Unlike many of you, I can't quite tell you the first time I met T. or C. I'm not sure I'd even be able to tell you at what point we went from being acquaintances to being friends. T. and I were in a travel writing class our first semester at SAIC and once, early on, we were in the same group (I think with a rabid buckeye, in fact) for a class assignment. The assignment was to get a Chicago postcard and write to someone, using descriptive phrases...or something...the assignment was actually kind of vague and weird. The in-class part of this assignment was to show and then read the postcard to the other members of the group (and even as I write this I wonder if I'm making this story up...whoops). I believe T.'s postcard was to C. As my name is also C., I was, at least momentarily confused.
There are times when I hear of someone or meet someone with the same name as me and there is a certain flash of competition. A 'you're not C...I am C.' A name is an important thing to share and it's not always nice to share it with a stranger. I wonder if this is just my own lack of charity or if others feel the same way, no matter. The point was that I had that flash, not knowing T. or C. to dislike this person simply because I didn't want to share. Perhaps it's different if your name is Jessica or Jennifer, perhaps not. The point is this: though I don't remember the first time I met C., I remember an initial hackle or two being raised. As we became friends there was a brief time where we tried to give ourselves alternate names. I would be Champ and she would be Scooter. This didn't catch on with anyone, not even ourselves and though, every once and a while, I would turn around thinking someone was talking to/about me when they were not, that competitive name thing quickly went away.
Wine nights were a central part of our SAIC experience, especially the first year. It gave many of us who did not have classes together the opportunity to speak to one another about writing, about food, about wine, about whatever and I think it gave all of us involved a great sense of a larger social network. C. and T. attended these gatherings as faithfully as I did, I think. So somewhere between all the wine nights abd french fries at Exchequer we went from being acquaintances to friends. So much so that I knew I could count on T. and C. to come over to my apartment to eat the softshell crabs/pork shoulder/overly purple coq au vin I made even if i gave them hardly any notice. They would come and play Catan and drink beer and, every so often, end up sleeping on our couches...regardless of T's cat allergies. But, all of that is really my conflation of a two year period of time.
First there was the summer after our first year when C. and I drove down to my parents house in Tennessee. Though we were most certainly friends at that point I don't think we spent that much time just the two of us. It was either a party, or a small gathering with our partners, or helping P.Jacks find an apartment or a new wardrobe. The time we spent down there, playing scrabble, drinking beer, watching Inspector Lynley mysteries and taking night walks was easy and fun, which is the way I like most all aspects of my life to be whenever possible. That time in some way cemented the relatively laid back nature of my friendship with C.
I think that's what it is about them both, they are both easy and fun (just like their mothers). I like to think that T. and I had our own cementation (that's not a word) some time later. Or perhaps it occurred before, we did have a number of classes together throughout our SAIC careers. I can't remember everything all the time...and that took place on on a cold January night our second year: T. and I with a bottle Makers Mark (I think but that might be another false detail) managed to shoot the shit for a record number of hours in which the night sky lightened considerably. Actually, I think shooting the shit does that long series of conversations a disservice. What was so wonderful about it, bourbon aside, was the honesty of T.'s thoughts and his willingness to share them with me and willingness to listen to my own ramblings. Marriage was discussed that night and it was pretty clear that it wasn't a matter of if T. would propose to C....it was when.
(See if this was a real speech it would be too long already/not very cohesive but I'm going to soldier on to the end now).
Whenever I have had troubles T. and C., as individuals and as a couple, have always been willing ears and open hearts. Nothing could prove this more than incredibly swift response to a slight life set-back in January. Within hours of sharing my large change of fortune, T. and C. not only contacted me to commiserate, they opened their home to me. The time I spent living with them and their dog, being a temporary housewife and occasional dogwalker, being given a non-judgmental space to work out what, exactly, it was that I needed to get done was so important. It is rare to have friends like these two and if they both, as individuals can be such good friends to me...just think of the kind of friends they are to one another.
Happy wedding you two, I hope you have a wonderful Vancouver meal!
Now that, my friends, is what I should have said.
(Pardon the lack of quality in this writing, just wanted to get it up and out there).
The pretty flower brigade was out in full force.
As were the Mennonites...or maybe Amish...but I think Mennonite.
She-Who couldn't resist the little plums available. They were super duper lovely sweet with hardly any tart...which is how I like my plums...and not how She-Who likes hers.
Full force I tell you.
Pretty!
I also ordered myself a sweet tea. Mmmm, that's some sweet tea.
The night of the rehearsal dinner (pictures of which you can see below) ended at a place where a game was played that involved beer in buckets. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong...not that kind of bucket. Anyways. It was a lovely night and because the beer was in a bucket I was actually feeling quite good the next morning...again, you don't know. She-Who-Has-No-Blog and I went to Waffle House (I know what you're thinking...but you're wrong, it wasn't that kind of Waffle House) for breakfast. I ordered the smoked sausage breakfast, two eggs, smoked sausage, hash browns and choice of two bisuits, toast or pancakes. I had one biscuit and one pancake (but did not eat much of either, for the record). Quite satisfying.
There were six varieties of wine to drink. I forget what most of them were, though I think one was called Tangent (a white) and another was too sweet for me...though I liked that it was sparkly. The dinner was buffet style and tasty. Two different salads, three spreads...
Cured meats with olives and cheese, beef tenderloin (or something quite like it), a chickeny chickeny pasta dish and veggies for the non meat eaters.
Yu-huh-my.
Unlike many of you, I can't quite tell you the first time I met T. or C. I'm not sure I'd even be able to tell you at what point we went from being acquaintances to being friends. T. and I were in a travel writing class our first semester at SAIC and once, early on, we were in the same group (I think with a rabid buckeye, in fact) for a class assignment. The assignment was to get a Chicago postcard and write to someone, using descriptive phrases...or something...the assignment was actually kind of vague and weird. The in-class part of this assignment was to show and then read the postcard to the other members of the group (and even as I write this I wonder if I'm making this story up...whoops). I believe T.'s postcard was to C. As my name is also C., I was, at least momentarily confused.
On Friday L. very kindly drove me to the airport. I had a bit of a wait before my plane was scheduled to depart (but that was because I got there early...the flight itself went off without a hitch...thanks Northwest Airlines! If you would like me to be a blogsperson for you I would do it happily...if you gave me free plane tickets) and I hadn't eaten breakfast so, for a quick snack/lunch I ordered Burger King's chicken fries. They were nothing special but I do like those ridiculously chemical sauces. Mmm.
I ordered the regular sushi, which came with miso soup and salad. The salad's dressing was quite nice.
I also ordered wasabi tobiko. I'm thinking my penchant for this specific dish is waning...mainly because I haven't felt the same level of kick that I used to.
The fish was well cut and tasty.
J. ordered the Omakase and he seemed to enjoy the fancier salad, grilled prawns and fancier sushi he received.
J. ordered the vegetarian combo and seemed pretty satisfied with all her non-fish. She was so taken with one of the garnish elements of her husband's sushi plate she took it with her (well, actually, I put it in my purse on her behalf).
At the end of the meal I attempted to pay my part of the bill and was told that J. and J. don't accept credit cards. I thank them very much for the company and the meal. N. seemed to think about liking tofu, which was an exciting new find for an almost one year old.
They had a lot of broken windows.
We went to Ocean Harbor. The wait was kind of intense...I got there at 11 and got a number and we didn't sit until closer to 12. It was also a much smaller place than the beloved Furama. We were lucky enough to get the seat exactly where all the masses waited for their number and got in the way of carts trying to make their circles. And by lucky I mean we were screwed. My two complaints being noted, I will say that everything was hot hot hot and tasty.
Shu mai!
Shrimp in a bunch of rice noodley goodness and sweet saucey!
Shr'amp dumpling!
Egg custard!
Thank you to the dim sum partners in crime. It's good to find people willing to eat with a stranger or, for that matter, multiple strangers.
It was very much a byob/byom/byof. There were burgers and veggies.
And cookies and chips. And an art museum.
And Corona beers and my summer hat.
And pointing.
It was a pretty good time, I think. K. and J. couldn't stay for the whole thing but J. was able to try my mac n' cheese for the first time and K. got to relive the glory days (questionable whether they were glorious...though some might say at least Mondays were oasis-like). Thanks to my many coworkers for their contributions and to K. for sponsoring the macncheese. Mmmmm!
This past weekend the Reading Terminal Market hosted and Ice Cream Festival so after breakfast we took a very quick stroll near the general 'festival' area but K. didn't seem all that enthused...only later would I learn it was because he felt like shit (then I felt bad about wondering why he wasn't as excited as I was...sorry, K., for wondering). But we did get to pass a fishmonger. And I think it's possible that these shrimp were cousins to the shrimp we had a little earlier.
And this! The one fishmonger guy would stand by these guys and pound his fist on the counter and all the little legs would grasp for something other than air...and you know what, it was precious. I hope they are still there in two weeks. I will buy them (though they are more expensive than at the Italian Market...but also more lively) and I will eat them. It will be awesome.
