What's up with me...

I'm going to Thailand at the end of this year. Dinah and I have decided that's where we'll take the official honeymoon of our marriage. (Brought to you by Cheer with color guard. Don't let the name fool you, we're not white supremacists!) Dinah was definitely the driving force behind this decision. Partly because her "childhood hairdresser" (seriously. If there's one thing that I could point to as showing how I sometimes don't understand the seeming-near-Rockwell childhood I ascribe to her, it's that she is still in contact with the woman who cut her hair when she was 8. As I mentioned in my controversial expose called "Penis on the Elbow", my relationship with the man who cut my hair the most when I was young was, well, uncomfortable.) is from there and may be able to point out some good places to go and fun things to do.
As you'll see if you read the Wikipedia article I linked to in the first sentence, Thailand had a revolution in 2006. This is one thing that gave me pause, but Dinah has assured me this was a "joyous" revolution. I don't know if this means the party she favored or is a member of won, or if it means it was a happy revolution with balloons and cake, but since we're married, (and this is our honeymoon) I guess I have to go along with this.
****
A couple updates on my last blog entry about Cubs fans and why they suck. First, our friend, Marty Brennaman has issued a statement about his statements. From the article:

"[Compared to Cubs fans] Cardinals fans are hands down the best in baseball.
They respect the game. They don't go to the game to do stupid stuff."The Cubs
have some great baseball fans. But the ones who act like idiots (ruin) it for
people like me."

Just so you know, I didn't ask the question, "Marty, how would you compare Cubs fans to say, Cardinal fans?" I wasn't even in the room.
But I was wondering why Marty didn't say Reds fans were the best? Or at least better. He works for the Reds. This might bear further investigation.
The second update. There's rumors around that the Cubs threw the last World Series they were in. Now, it looks like gambling and cheating in baseball (especially in Chicago) were much worse than we knew. I don't really have much of a comment on the situation other than to giggle a little to myself.
Edit: And now comes this. That's what I'm dealing with on the train and around my neighborhood. (Which is actually about a mile west of Wrigley. So others do have it worse, I know.)
****
I've applied to a Paralegal certification program, so I'll be waiting to hear from them for a bit now. I'm fighting the urge to call them just to make sure they got everything (they haven't cashed the check for their application fee yet) and to figure out when decisions are made.
The program begins in September and goes through next August. So, I'm gonna spend the rest of the spring and summer waiting to hear and then (hopefully) waiting to start. It also means I'm not probably going to change jobs for a year and a half. Which is okay, I guess. As long as I'm making bigger strides to getting a job that could be more fullfilling, that's the bigger deal. But, of course I'm going to have (a lot of) days that have the possibility to be soul-crushing here. But, as always, it's never wrong to plan exactly what you're gonna say when you leave.
****
Just because I needed to hear it. And maybe you do too.
The Rainbow Connection.
(Did I just spend 20 minutes trying to find the "best video" of this? Yes. Am I ashamed? Only a little.)

Cubs fans, Bud cans...

It was October 14, 2003. A fortnight into October and the Cubs were still playing. I was living about a mile north of Wrigley field where the game I was watching on TV was taking place. Amazingly the Cubs were 5 outs away from going to the World Series. And we all remember what happened next. Moises Alou failed to catch a foul ball (that a fan may have prevented him from getting to) and threw a hissy fit. Mark Prior (pitching the 400th inning of his season) started to implode and Alex S. Gonzales booted an easy inning-ender. And ever so quickly, the Cubs lost the series. In short, the Cubs crapped the bed. Writers (stupid writers!) brought up the Curse of the Billy Goat again.
In the past the Cubs fans took losses like this more or less in stride. It was who they are and they more or less expected it. This loss was different though. They were getting closer to the 100 year mark. Between that and watching the Red Sox end their futility the year after, things started changing. The fans started expecting more. They started feeling desperate as they neared the 100 year mark of failure. (And it's definitely on people's minds).
And then things got worse. The rival White Sox won a World Series right across town. More people in Chicago were watching the White Sox than the Cubs, which is totally unthinkable, really. And judging by the firm I was working at when the W-sox won (and all the shiny-new Sox hats), a lot of Cubs fans were sick of losing. The fans didn't want to be the "loveable losers" anymore.
Then, in 2006, they watched their more immediate rival St. Louis Cardinals win (hell yeah!) with a team that has since been labeled the least talented team to win the World Series. (Take that 1986 Twins!) And I think (I don't know, but I think) the Cubs thought it could've been them. And suddenly (well, probably spurred by the attempts of the Tribune company to sell the team), management went out and brought in talent in a way they hadn't done in a long time, which got fans expectations up.
Now. Why do I bring this up? Well, yesterday Marty Brennaman, the Cincinnati play-by-play announcer made some comments about Cubs fans that should probably be put in context. In short, Brennaman said that Cubs fans actions make the team hard to root for. They, in fact make you want to root against the team. They're "far and away the most obnoxious fan base" in baseball. (Though he does say he can't speak too much to the Yankees and Red Sox fans because he doesn't see them.)
I can't speak for them being the worst, because I haven't seen as many crowds as Brennaman, but I can definitely say this year, they have been quite obnoxious. So far, we've had the start of fans throwing multiple balls back after opponents hit home runs (which is what raised Brennaman's dander) and we've had a drunken fan fall into the homerun basket out in the bleachers. And this is just the stuff that's caught the news media's attention. What they don't see is the fans drunkenly (hey, there's that word again) piling out of the stadium, slowing down all traffic and El in and out of the area. The bar fights and the screaming and harassing they do to anyone who is wearing an opposing hat or jersey. Just the general nuisance the fans en mass are. Sure, it's all mostly harmless, but it is obnoxious.
But, I didn't come here to dig up bad memories of Cubs failures past (no...not me) and defend Brennaman's opinion (though he's certainly got a point). I came to put it in context. To explain it a little bit.
When I first moved here in 2001, I went to some games. The first game I saw at Wrigley, Kerry Wood pitched against the Pirates. It was a day game in either April or May. The Cubs had no real expectations of winning, but they were a decent team. And the game was fun. Sure, everyone was upset the team couldn't get it together, but they were who they were. The "loveable losers". You couldn't get mad at them for sucking. It was who they were.
And really just getting out to Wrigley for a day game was its own reward. You went to the game hoping they would win, but not expecting it. Then the near-World Series happened. And all those things I talked about in the beginning happened. And everything changed. The fans now expect a win every game. But what didn't change is the idea that going to Wrigley is a lot about having a good time and not as much about actually watching the game. It's more about getting drunk (for a good many Cub fans, especially the twenty-somethings, though not all) and cheering when good things happen and booing when bad things happen, but with the expectation that the team should win, no matter what. The fans think they deserve it.
And when it doesn't happen, they act like idiots. It's really that simple. At least it is to me (a Cardinal fan). And really, I feel some sympathy for them (after all, it was nearly me...). It's the same kind of sympathy one would feel toward a four-year-old who can't stop peeing himself. So, I guess I don't share Brennaman's outrage at throwing extra balls on the field. To me, it's all just frustration of an entitled fan-base. They'll get over it in 2015 (as prophecied by Back to the Future 2), when they finally do win.
****
What is interesting to me though, is when you compare Brennaman's comments to the events of what is now being called "the Bartman game". On the one hand you have people, including Cub players (erroneously) blaming a fan for blowing a game. To the extent that the poor guy had to be escorted out of the game for his own safety. And all of his personal information ended up all over everywhere. The Illinois Governer joked he should join the witness protection program. People really hated this guy who had been a fan of the Cubs his whole life.
Back to yesterday when we've got Brennaman telling us that the Cubs fanbase is one of the most obnoxious. And that it's the fans the makes him (and presumably others) root against the team.
And it brings up something else Brennaman (or possibly his cohort, whose name is escaping me, though he definitely used to work for ESPN) said. Speaking of the Cubs continuous losing streaks he said, "Oh, it's never their fault". (Meaning the team's fault, not the fans). And he's got a great point. For some reason, no one ever says they players weren't good enough. It's always that they fail to come through in the one moment. Or, mostly, that something supernatural or flukey intervened to stop the Cubs from their destiny.
(Here's the truth of the Cubs in 2003 (which I apparently figured out 5 years later. Hey, I make up in correct what I lack in quick), they weren't good enough. If they were, they would've won the games after the Bartman game. People seem to think this was the deciding game. It wasn't.)
Maybe the fans are doing the team more harm than good? I don't know. One thing's for certain though, there's nothing lovable about these losers. (Watch for Jay Mariotti to steal this line later in the season after the Cubs start to really tank...)

Customer Service

Customer Service training is the most basic training you get when you're in the work place. At least it is in my cubicle-playground. Counting the one I got last Monday, that marks the sixth time I've gotten pointers on treating people (no matter how horrible they are) nicely. And none of the training was mandated because of "incidents" or "behavioral problems" despite what you may (understandably) expect. That's 6 times in 2 1/2 different work places. (2 1/2 because I don't really know if I should classify the outsourcing company as a new job, or a continuation. It makes my resume a little complex either way...)
The first time I got the training, I found it somewhat enlightening (be nice to people? Interesting...), if not terribly well-delivered. The second and third times I was okay with it, because it meant time away from my desk and there was some new ground covered (don't yell obscenities at coworkers? Okay...sure). Every time after that though, I just wanted to bludgeon myself with the free notepad (given so I could write down the many witticisms I was certain to come across) or suffocate myself with the free shopping bag (given because law firms have too much money and they'd rather not use it on bonuses) to save myself from the boredom and insufferable HR "personalities". (I've mentioned that HR people are horrible, haven't I? Because they are. Horrible, fake people who are secretly telling everyone you work with what how much you make and about that time you 'accidentally' clicked on that link. But I digress.) They're getting to be like morning talk show hosts. (Cooter and the Axe? Sounds right to me.) Though certainly castrated of any of the more off-color (and probably funny) bits. (All 6 of mine have been team taught. Is it so complicated for them to tell me I can't speak bluntly to people? It is for them.)
During the fifth visit to "corporate etiquette" or whatever they're calling it now, I developed a strategy to make everything interesting that doesn't involve imagining the grizzly (gruesome, horrific, fun) deaths of either of the "leaders". You try to insert what you're learning into real-world situations. The downside of this strategy, I admit, is that you actually have to listen and absorb some of what they're saying.
The key with the real-life situation you pick:
(1) Don't pick it before you get there. You never know how you're gonna feel. Sometimes you wanna pretend you're an astronaut who can't get back to earth. Sometimes you wanna pretend to be a deep sea diver who can't get pizza delivery in the Atlantic. You gotta keep it loose.
(2) Do pick something fun. The more outlandish or quirky, the more (of your soul) you actually take away from the seminar.
(3) Don't laugh out loud when you're thinking of how what they're saying applies to the situation you have in mind. This can be hard when you're a you're thinking you're a old-timey miner stuck in modern times. But after saying "consarnit", you have to act like that's just something you say all the time.
(4) Stay in character. It can be hard, but it is well worth it. If you're lucky enough to work with someone interesting and up for some fun, you should both plan to do a character (keeping in mind rule 1 not to choose before). Afterwards you can try to guess who your friend was.
(5) Don't get caught. Good luck.
So, on Monday, when the HR specialist (not that there's anything special to looking up people's medical records just to see if they've seen a psychiatrist) started out her opus with "Who is your customer?", I knew exactly who I was. I was a phone sex operator. (Prostitute would've been too appropriate, maybe.) So, my answer was, "Uh. The people who are paying for me to do this 'work'." (Note: People can't see quotation marks when you're talking, so speaking in generalities is an important plus.) And I was right! Everyone's right at these meetings. Only sometimes you're not right enough. The real answer she wanted was that "Everyone you come into contact with is your Customer!" (I don't know why they insisted on capitalizing the word on the powerpoint, but they did. Apparently grammar is not our customer.) It's a good thing chlamydia doesn't spread aurrally (ahem). And with all the pee-pee talk, I'd have to be giving out all the time, when would I eat? If I just want to eat a Big Mac, do I have to talk dirty to the counter person?
Even as I was trying to understand the scope of services I was now going to have to provide to everyone I saw just on my walk to work, the next slide asked the age-old question, "What is Customer Service?" (I love that they start basic.) Answering it's own musing, it said, "Consistently meeting or exceeding the customer's expectations." So. If I someone's just asking for fun talk about their baby-fetish, I should give them some tossed salad talk too?* Just to prove to them I'm good at what I do? Guess so.
And this is where I the fun started. They started running down their hook. This is where they give you the "easy-to-remember" guide to solving problems. They went with the "6 R's", which is fine. I mean, I expected more than 6 words that just have the same letter in common. I wanted some rhyming. Oooh, or an acronym. An acronym really makes people remember this kind of stuff. But, 6 r-words is good too, I guess.
I'm providing them here with how I see them working in my real world situation.

• Respect. Treat everyone like a guest. Welcome to hot talk with Joe. Do you need a pillow? Or some hand lotion?
• Realize what they want. They want me to be the Canadian scarecrow alone in a soybean field just as it starts to rain and it's making their straw all damp. And they want me to be the immigrant (possibly from Wyoming) who is so desperately hungry that I'm trying to take the innocent little soybeans. They always want that. Unless they want me to be the copy machine that won't print in color, while they're the office slacker who's printing up posters for their garage-band that won't ever make any records, but it brings them joy. If only they could get people to the shows. Oh why oh why does the copy machine tease them so?
• Reflect. Make sure you have all the information you need. I was just wondering, sir. Are you married? I only ask because I think it'll help me get into character a little more if I know what sort of dirtbag I'm dealing with. Sir?
• Respond. Show a sense of urgency. All right buddy, if we finish up in 5 more minutes we can all get back to McGuyver.
• Resourceful. Sell new services. I know you only wanted to talk about being an adult baby, but for only a dollar more a minute, I wil
• Resolve. Follow up to confirm satisfaction. That's good. I hope the sense of guilt you feel now doesn't ruin what was an otherwise lucrative time for me.

I don't know how they stretched such flimsy bullshit into 2 hours. But, that's what they do. I hope you found this informative and helpful. Good luck.

*Note. I want to know how many people clicked that link with confidence that I wasn't sending them to a porn site.

Elvis was a hero to most, but...

Elvis.
I've always hated Elvis. I could never really explain why. He was dead almost four months before I was dropped into this world, so you'd think there would be no need for me to have any grudge. But, I do.
For a while I thought it was because my Aunt loved him. Apparently, immediately after my birth and for years after, she said I was the second coming of Elvis. I didn't remember this until my mom reminded me, but apparently I was a bit of a smartass when I was a kid and when my Aunt (for what turned out to be the last time) reiterated her theory about the second coming, I mused (as much as a 7 year old can muse I suppose), "I'm not the second coming of him, I'm the first coming of me." (This story is probably a little apocryphal as my Mom has a tendency to remember me a little more clever than I probably was.) So, I started off on the wrong foot with him.
I remember hearing his music on the oldies station my parents used to like to listen to and just wondering what the fuss was about. And that hip-shaking, gyrating, or whatever that was supposed to be so controversial, (which by today's standards is really quaint) never really struck me as interesting. And his movies. Oh, jesus.
But I didn't come here to throw some shit on a long-dead icon. (He was the first and credit should be given for that.) I came here because I have a some thoughts about Elvis and how I see him fitting into today's celebrity obsessed culture. And it all starts with Britney.
Is Britney Spears not the second-coming I could never be? A southerner from a small town makes good suddenly, shocks a lot of squares with a sexually provocative image, gets wooed by hollywood a little, develops a fanatical following, gets surrounded by the wrong people and the wrong substances, has ups, has downs, but comes back before it all goes down hill? I know people love the Marlyn Monroe angle more here (especially after the now almost-prophetic Lucky video), but to me she plays more as female Elvis. For one, I don't think Monroe ever fell out of the favor of the American people the way Britney has. For another, Monroe wasn't the cross-over star going from music to movies. And both Elvis and Monroe suffered from the insecurities that people seem to associate mainly with Monroe.
Either way, Elvis and Monroe both have their similarities (namely innocence corrupted, as Elton John tells us) and maybe Brit's a bit of both. I don't know. But stay with me. If she is Elvis (and I realize he also went into the service, made many more movies than Britney and probably didn't fall as far as she did until he had that poop to end all poops) then she's gone through his life cycle of 42 years in 26 years. Except she didn't die. And I think a lot of people hate her for that.
I've read (mostly in Chuck Klosterman's books) about the "accelerated culture" we live in. But in addition to the acceleration, what strikes me is how predictable we want our stories to be. Sure, you can see it all the time in movie theaters close to you. But it's also true of celebrities and how we view them. And how they're made out in the gossip magazines. It's not just that Britney's the next Marilyn or Elvis because the comparisons are there, but also she's there because that's how she's covered. As soon as she came out, she made a big enough splash and the gossip magazines were looking for her to follow the Marilyn pattern. They started covering who she was dating, where she went, and what she did with such scrutiny. They started looking for the cracks. They didn't do it thoughtfully or maliciously. They're just not very creative people or they're attention seeking self-aggrandizers who roll in the dirt of other people's lives so we will think they're interesting. (I know they'll tell you they're just reporting this shit, but half the time they make shit up and a lot of the rest of the time, they're pushing people so hard and scrutinizing them so much and so loudly, they're asking, nay, begging for something "newsworthy" to happen.) And that's a real difference from the Elvis and Monroe eras to the "reporting" of today. We don't want to just see the car wreck, we want to see the look on everyone's face as the car goes careening off the road and into the pole. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing, I guess. And it's not like she's helped herself out either. It does take two to play this game. Well and us all eating that shit up.
Anyway. I know now they're hatching this comeback story with her father running her estate and teaching children to dance. And maybe becoming a good mother. Yeah. They just rebooted and went with a bigger comeback story on her. Which is good, definitely better than having her die and then making memorial plates and shit. But, for a while there, you just knew they were begging her to die so someone could have the exclusive photos and the big interview with whatever anonymous source about how it was or wasn't suicide.
We sort of got a taste of how the magazines react with Heath Ledger. But the problem (from their point of view) with that was that he was more or less private. The magazines didn't get a chance to build him up one way or the other. And all the attempts to tell the "backstory" now just seems insensitive to people who admired him. (And it is.) If Britney had died, though, it would've been a scene. I'll bet some of the magazines had first drafts of the stories ready to go. But that fucking Britney didn't die.
I know people have said somewhere that had Elvis lived, he wouldn't have lasted and become the icon he is today. They've said the same thing about Kurt Cobain. I think Britney might be the test case for that argument. I don't know that she'll ever become more than the circus she has been turned into (with our help). But if she lives until Elvis' 42 and beyond there's no way we can forget about this the way we ignore the fat-Elvis days.
It'll be interesting, I guess.

Wedding Wrap-up: Saturday...(or the vengence of a Righteous Lionel Ritchie)

I woke up with only the slightest headache.

I made my way down to breakfast, where there were a lot more people (14) than the day before. I, of course, made the obligitory, "So, what's everyone up to today?" joke. I was a bit tired from staying out the night before, but I didn't have any real responsibility until noon when I had to make sure to get lunch for Dinah and myself and her bridesmaid. So after breakfast, I messed around a bit and took a nap. Or tried to. I forget who the first call was, but it was something about scheduling and such. The second call was Dinah and I had to make sure my mom and her mom knew to show up a little later for their nail appointments as Dinah was running late on hers. Still though, I got maybe a solid half hour, and coupled with the asprin I bummed off my sister, I was feeling pretty good.

I convinced my brother to come with me to get lunch and we drove (which is ridiculous) to the Back Alley Deli where we found out they don't take ATM cards. Shot down to the Louis Sullivan Jewel Box Bank (this part of the blog brought to you by the Grinnell Chamber of Commerce - Grinnell, you gotta love it!) and back and got some sandwhiches.

It was about this time that I noticed it was windy. Really windy. This would make the pictures sort of interesting.

Went back to the B&B and ate the sandwhiches. It was around 12.15, and Dinah was later than she thought she'd be. No big deal, as we didn't have to be ready for pictures until 2. So, my brother and I ate our sandwhiches while watching American Test Kitchen on Iowa Public Television. Around 1 or so, we started putting on our suits and were finished by the time Dinah and her bridesmaid showed up. Then we kind of sat around. This was kind of a theme of the day. A lot of sitting around and waiting for stuff to happen. Building the drama, I guess.
Eventually, it was 2 and time for pictures. (Note: I hate pictures. I hate taking them. I hate having them taken. But this was nice. I was a bit testy for a moment and worried about making sure all the permutations of couples, family members and angles happened, but for the most part it was painless.) The outside pictures should be interesting with all the wind, but we did plenty of indoor ones as well, so that's good. Around 4, everyone left and we did some more pictures. But that lasted only until 4.00 or so.
And the church was suddenly empty, except Dinah and I. We went over to the rehearsal room to make sure everything was going well there and it was. And then we went to the basement of the chapel to wait for everyone else. This was the oddest part of the day. There we were, all dressed up. At the chapel. Waiting for everyone. Soon my brother showed up with some water, some redbull and some jellybeans. And we did some nervous eating.
A little after 5, we got lined up in front of the doors and ready to go, when two of Dinah's friends (one a tall drink of water, who later committed an affront to Lionel Ritchie, that I would be more offended about if I didn't know for a fact that soon she'll be waking up next to one of these [Hello, is it me you're looking for?] really soon.)* walked in. Just as they passed through us and settled into seats towards the back, it started.
My brother was first out of the gate. Then my best man. Then me, escorting my mom down. Then dinah's maid of honor. Then her brother escorting her mom. Then her and her father. I was fine walking down there. Smiling (I think) at everyone as I made my way down the aisle. I stopped at the front, just shy of the stairs. As soon as my feet stopped and my legs settled underneath me, my eyes let loose the waves of tears that didn't stop until the Officient said, "I now present to you for the first time as husband and wife..."
Dinah looked beautiful coming down the aisle, and the sun coming in through the stain glass window crowned her in a glow that made me shiver a little.
And the rest is a blur. I remember choking up during the vows. Swallowing hard and having to repeat part of the vows. But almost as soon as it started, we were at the back of the chapel hugging and saying hi to everyone. And then we were downstairs, signing the document to make it all official.
And then we were at the reception, trying to make sure we were thanking everyone for coming. And making sure to talk to everyone. And awkwardly cutting the cake and eating it. And awkwardly doing the first dance (Man in Me) and then the photographer left and I started breathing again.
And then it was over. It went really that quickly. I was suddenly cleaning up and making my way to the B&B (if you're ever locked out of a B&B, ring the bell once or the Irish husband of the woman who was so super-nice to you will be testy and dress you down a bit, your wedding day or not) and then I was back at Grinnell house being lifted in the air by my friends. And suddenly I realized they were all not going to be there soon. And I realized the whole day was quickly becoming a happy memory. Which it is.
It reminded me of how much I miss my friends and how I need to make a better effort to see the ones I live so close to. But mostly, It reminded me of how lucky I am to have friends and family who are willing to truck to the middle of Iowa at the end of March (not known as "the pretty season") and throwdown for some good fun. (Not to get all hallmark on you or anything.)
Anyhoo. I know this was a little "then this happened" but I just wanted to get some of it down before it faded from my memory. If I forgot something or you want to add to the memory, please do (assuming you were at the wedding, you know).

*Note: I like Dancing on the Ceiling. I don't ask that you, dear reader, also like this song (you should, though), but if you're at an event that I'm throwing (especially, you know, my wedding), and the song comes on, don't assume that you can just get up and turn it because you don't like it. It's rude. And when I ask you nicely (jokingly even) about it 10 minutes later (and after I cooled down a bit), you know, feign embarrasment or tell me a story about how your mother used to love this song and now that she's gone (to the circus or the great beyone, either will work), you can't bring yourself to sit through the craftsmanship that Mr. Ritchie brings to this his masterwork. Don't just say, 'yeah, I don't like it', and then go pass out. Weak.

Wedding Wrap-up No. 2: Friday...

That's when it all changed. But I'm getting ahead of myself.


Woke up sort of earlyish and went down to breakfast. It was just my Mom and Dinah's folks, so it was small enough that it could've been any sort of occasion.

One of the first things we had to do that day was set up the name cards and table tents so that people knew where to sit. This meant we would see the room from the inside, set up with everything except the flowers and cake. You might think the reality of the situation, the size of the group, the craziness that was on its way the next day would set in seeing the room. But it didn't. I don't know if this is because of the familiar view of Mack Field in front of me. Or the unfamiliarity of the building that hadn't been a part of my Grinnell experience during my student days. Or whether I'm just used to being a little stressed out in Grinnell. Could be all three or something I hadn't thought about. But everything was still cool.

And then. People started showing up. Dinah's brother and family were first. But then there were aunts and friends and everyone. That's when I started feeling the stress. Not much at first. Just a little twinge. But as my sister and brother showed up (bringing his own set of problems with him, ie I hate his girlfriend), I started to feel a little weird about everything.

But just as things started to feel a little odd, I had to set out to Herrick for the rehearsal. Just the immediate family on both sides and the wedding party. And as we all lined up for our first walk down the aisle, I felt something else hit me. It wasn't "calm" unfortunately, but it was the serenity of knowing even if everyone else hated each other, and fights broke out in the pews even as we were saying the vows, at least I would be married when the weekend was over. And that was comforting.
And the rehearsal went well. The first time I saw her walking down the aisle, on her father's arm, I got a lump in my throat. And I got a little misty. But, we had to rehearse that three or four times, so by the end everything seemed routine. And we smiled and laughed through the whole thing. It was nice.
And the rehearsal dinner was fun too. I ended up at a table with my family, one of Dinah's aunts and an uncle (though not the one married to this aunt) and a couple of my friends. My family seemed a little dazed by Dinah's fam, but overall it was a good dinner. And the place we stayed (Carriage House if you're ever in Grinnell) put out quite a spread for the dinner. (The breakfasts were awesome as well.) The chocolate cake for desert was particularly scrumptious.
After that, we had a pub night planned. Though the pub I knew as a student was undergoing renovations (which was for the best), we went into town and stopped at a place called Lonskis. And that's when it all changed again. Maybe it was the beer. More likely it was being surrounded by friends in an atmosphere of pure love and joy. But this was a great night. I talked to one of Dinah's friend's father for I don't know how long and it was awesome. And I hung out with my friends. And at some point that evening we headed over to Grinnell House where everyone was serenaded with Irish drinking songs, and general tom-foolery ruled the night. I snuck out at around 2, mostly sober and completely happy.

Wedding wrap-up No. 1 (or how I learned to stop worrying and love family crazy)

It's odd. That's the truth about being a newlywed. It's odd.
It's not that I don't like it. I like being married very much, but it's still odd.
Coming to work like it's just another day is hard to reconcile for me. And everyone here asking me how it went, when most days they don't seem to notice me-that I find interesting. I think this gives them something personal to put to me. Something that makes me make sense to them. But I don't know. Eh.
Anyhoo.
The wedding went well. The only real drama happened Thursday when I got a call from my cousin. I was half expecting the call, because she's flaky. So, she calls and talks at me for half an hour. The upshot of the call was she and her fam couldn't make it, because she couldn't get the time off. The same time she told me a month ago that she had gotten off. Dicey, but, this was fine with me. I understand things happen. I felt a little bad for my mom, because I think she wanted some family there, but whatever. I wasn't sure how they'd deal with the situation and I wasn't really going to miss them that much. (Which maybe makes me a jerk, but whatever. They're nice people; they mean well. But. I don't have a close relationship with them.) This also meant that my Aunt (mother's sister) couldn't come. And this is where the drama starts. She calls me up in tears. She's so sorry. And she wishes things could be different. And I feel bad for her. And I say I'll see what I can do. So, I wrangled up another ride for my aunt (since that was what was keeping her from coming), by asking my sister to take her. My sister already does a lot for my Aunt and was understandably peeved about having to go out of her way to do a favor when my Aunt's daughter wouldn't or hadn't gone out of her way to come to my wedding. But I cashed in a favor and got my aunt a ride. (Yeah, I'm a real hero. But those of you there are probably thinking, 'I didn't see Joe's Aunt. What's the deal Captain Heropants?') So, I call her and tell her the good news. And what does she say? "I don't have a hotel reservation."
What?
"I don't have a hotel reservation." She's still teary and her voice is shaking. And I'm on the other side of Iowa, staring out the bathroom window of our room stunned.
I don't know if she just planned on staying with my cousin (though why couldn't she just use that reservation if it existed? My bet is it didn't exist), or whether she was trying to stay with us at the Bed and Breakfast or if she just wanted someone to make all the arrangements for her. It's probably a little bit of everything. But, I said I'd look into things again.
But, you know. This time. I didn't look. I suppose I should feel bad, but I called her back and told her the hotel where most of our guests were staying didn't have any rooms. She shot back, immediately, "Well, I guess I can't come." She didn't ask me to look anywhere else. She certainly didn't look herself. Just right into resignation.
And I tell this story not to rip my poor aunt. She has been through a lot these last couple of years. Her husband died. And our family has a history of not bouncing back from tragedy (and sometimes any change) very well. It's this history that frustrates and sometimes dominates me. I don't know exactly what it is that seems to make us this way. My instinct is to say it's a form of learned helplessness combined with our own personal flaws. For me it's a morbid fear of failure that keeps me from pushing harder to succeed. (And probably some other stuff.)
That was the most striking thing about being around a good amount of Dinah's extended family. They're successful, intelligent, wonderful people. They're warm and inviting. In short, they're awesome. And I definitely want my children to inherit the spirit they put out there. And I would like to start being more like them too, truthfully. Which is really the issue I'm trying to address.
I don't know what their secret is. But, I have a feeling it's not really a secret. They've just always been that way. So. I guess that means I have to start being that way (for my own sake).