I went to Wendy’s and Chris’s wedding this weekend and it was fabulous. Everything about it was exactly them. I loved that it was held at a German American cultural center that had a secret roof deck with this amazing view of the Chicago skyline. I loved Chris’s dapper tuxedo, and how Wendy had never looked more beautiful. I loved how much they love each other. I loved the wedding cake. I loved the personalized matchbooks that were gold and had red stars on them. I loved all the people I met, and also seeing all the people I already knew, like Claire and Steve, and Megan and John, and Michael, who had to have an emergency root canal the day before the wedding and still powered through. And I got to make a toast and I was super honored and I made a joke about New York pizza versus Chicago pizza and I got hissed and I. LOVED. IT.
Oh! And the DJ turned out to be the woman who gave me my first fake ID many, many moons ago. I saw her and knew who she was immediately, even though I hadn’t seen her in more than twenty years. How is that even possible? But it was true. Circle of life, people. Circle of life.
And now I am back in New York with a bit of a head cold. I have but one more little trip to make this fall – one night at the Mohegan Sun (!) to see my dear Whitney – and then I must not travel for a while because I need to buckle down and find some freelance copywriting work. And also I am going to read and write and walk my dog in the early mornings down to the waterfront dog run, while it is still warm enough to do so. People at that park call him “The General” because he has such regal posture. Even though he is a bad boy, people still love him. It gives me hope.
I remember that ID! And then when you turned 21, you couldn’t use it at the liquor store anymore because you had made friends with the owner under your fake ID name.
You’re coming to see me! You really are coming to see me!