I will admit that the last few weeks have been…overwhelming. Overwhelming in that weird way that’s all real-life, and nothing that makes for a good, bloggable anecdote. These phases in my life are…Capital-R-Rare, as I tend to think that everything makes for a good story.
But sometimes, things are confidential; sometimes, things are sad.
And sometimes the stories in which I am the protagonist are just plain boring. They are tales of me cowering in the corner of a Mayfair hotel room, eating strawberries for dinner, sobbing during the premiere of the Great British Bake Off knowing I wouldn’t be able to consistently catch the remainder of the series, and realising Oh My Goodness, the Americans are going to copy it sooner than later, and WHY DO AMERICANS RUIN EVERYTHING?!
(For the record, while the American propensity to ruin shows by AmericaniZing them is A Thing, and while I do have a peculiar love for The Great British Bake Off, this was not a matter over which to shed tears. I was just overwhelmed and incredibly jet-lagged.)
Obviously, I was unexpectedly in London last week. And while I usually have a social life in London, last week was 12 hour days of appointments and meetings and phone calls, and bad sleep before rushing home for 36 hours and heading off to beautiful Buffalo, NY.
I am not being facetious about the Buffalo bit, by the way. The weather was perfect, and crisp, and the very tippy tips of the leaves were turning Autumn hues. We were there to marry off our dearest Woman of Winesday, Bethany, in Point Abino, Ontario. And by “marry off,” I mean that in the literal sense, as I was officiating the ceremony.
She was the first of the WoWs to marry, or re-marry as the case may be.
Marriage is a journey. Remarriage, I think, is a different beast, but perhaps an infinitely more hopeful one. It is a triumph of the heart over the head.
So while Buffalo was lovely, the getting to Buffalo bit was not so lovely. eee and I travelled upstate together, and between the two of us, our ordinarily smooth transitions between cities was a bit tangled. She had arrived from Reykjavik on Monday; I’d gotten in from Heathrow near Midnight on Wednesday. She thought you could take the E-Train to LaGuardia; I hadn’t been able to check in for the flight before we left for the airport.
Between the two of us, we fly thousands of miles each year. We each have extra passport pages, and carry our yellow fever cards as a matter of course. And yet, we could not get ourselves to LGA for a 45 minute flight.
Once on the plane and safely landed in Buffalo 45 mins later, we made it to downtown, and we were on our way to the Welcome Dinner at the Frank Lloyd Wright Fontana Boathouse. We were treated to stunning views of Lake Erie.
What Bethany doesn’t know, and will soon know when she reads this, is that somewhere between the plane and the hotel, I had dropped several important pages of the ceremony, including my brief sermon. I was obviously officiating, and had hand-written pieces of the service — as I have a tendency to hand-write things before I type. The night before the wedding, I spent a few moments of sweaty horror staring at blank pages before I (wo)man’d up, put pen to page, and rewrote all of the transitional bits, and my entire speaking part.
So that happened.
The next morning, we ran a celebratory “Race to the Altar 5k” – which was less “Race” and more “Fun Run,” as everyone was a multiple marathoner, ultra-marathoner, or insane triathlete.
(The Varsity Cross Country Team – photo via the bride’s sister Lindsay)
After the run, we raced to ready ourselves – which meant eee and I ran to the salon for hair-do’s (and what a to-do it was!), then drove across the border into Canada for a day of preparing ourselves for the big event.
And it was a truly gorgeous day. Sunshine, perfect weather, great company.
(Photo via eee)
(eee, Penguin, and I went to high school together. To be reunited at the wedding of a friend who didn’t go to school with us was wonderfully funny!)
(me and eee with the beautiful bride)
All in all, a perfect day.
To be surrounded by such kindness, and beauty, and love was a rare treat. My personality, and indeed, my profession, force me to err on the side of realism (some would say, cynicism), but those things notwithstanding, I will tell you that this weekend was a triumph of stamina over jetlag; sunshine over all other weather; love over all other things; and most importantly, the heart over the head.