The Royal Wedding

I was talking to my friend Petey the other day about his upcoming nuptials. The marriage part, no fear; the part where everyone is staring at you during the service, ugh. Agreed.

Imagine being Kate & Will. Yikes!

Yet, she handled it with poise, sophistication, grace, aplomb, and so on. They both seemed to be cracking up, at times. I even think there was a slight air of "Take this biyotches!" Check. And Mate.

Watching the royal wedding from my couch this morning was fun while the hubby read the tweets from the live bloggers on dlisted. (Did they have to stop to get Camilla an apple or carrot? Touching.)

Vastly different experience than when I was living in Jersey UK in 1986 and Fergie married Prince Andrew. I was working in my girlfriend's health food shop and we, along with all of the shopkeepers in Quennevais Parade, were drinking champagne, waving flags and celebrating. Sure, we were miles away from the event, across the Channel (well, almost), but yet on English soil -- quite the festivity.

I want to agree with John Oliver's coverage on the Daily Show that 80% of Brits don't care about the royal wedding; however, there's something about it that's undeniably cool. Maybe it's the 1936 diamond tiara borrowed from the Queen, the reverential curtsy, the horse drawn carriages (that are downright pretentious for others but seriously awesome if you're royalty), the Union Jack flags lining the streets or, more comprehensively, the fairytale-like nature of the entire event.

Swoon. 

As the cover Newsweek proclaimed a few weeks ago, and a recent sermon in church touched upon, "In a world gone to hell, thank God, a wedding." So true.

Time to put on my white gloves, one finger at a time, and pour myself some Pink Champale.

Texas Tumbleweed

Staying at La Torretta Lake Resort & Spa in Montgomery TX is like writing on this blog: no visitors.

Here is my review for TripAdvisor.

Sure, I could have gone on about how inconvenienced the dude serving us at the 19th hole was to have to fetch my mom's tea from the next building over (i.e., a minute walk that should have been transparent to us, his few guests), not to mention the fact that her tea never arrived until we were leaving almost an hour later, and what a buffoon the dude was in general (and he was training the new hire?!)  but I erred on the side of just simply narrating a few of the mishaps.

It was such a wonderful trip overall, I thought, why wax on about one ill-fated lunch?

But I did forget to mention one thing: the fact that the kids could jump over the side of infinity pool to the larger pool below.

"Please, can we??"

"Sure, but wait until Grannie isn't around."

Freedom of Choice

According to this quiz, I'm a Libertarian -- just a bit more centrist than my anarchist, hemp-loving brother.

 If you want me, you can find me left of center, off of the strip.

I'll say it again in the land of the free, use your freedom of choice . . .

And Talk About the Weather

When you've got nothing to post, you can always talk about the weather.

Total snowfall this past season (assuming, correctly I hope, that it's over): 127 inches. Lucky us!

And now we're nearing the record for rainiest April EVER (breaking a record set in 1929) in a town that's already known for gray skies and dreary weather. Lucky us!

Tonight, we have a severe thunderstorm warning that could bring strong winds and hail. Yea!!

It's either time for Tears for Fears or the Weather Girls but God bless mother nature? Not right now.

Three Little Birds

Easter Sunday. Egg hunt. Estes model rockets. Glow sticks. Popsicle makers. Chocolate bunnies. Jelly beans. Candy. Cake. Ice cream.

One sick little man.

Sitting on the bathroom floor at my sister's house, crying, he began whispering to me, "Don't worry about a thing. Every little thing is going to be alright."

Yes, it is.

Tenebrae

Last night, I went to a Tenebrae service which, until yesterday, I had never heard of.

This particular service was a succession of music, prayer and seven readings -- no traditional mass/no sermon. The church was fully lit with eight candles on the altar and after each reading a single candle was extinguished and the lights were dimmed. By the end of the service, we were in complete darkness with the exception of one candle, which was used to lead a silent procession, and a light shining on the crucifix above the alter. Faint light from the dusk outdoors was illuminating the stained glass windows throughout.

Just beautiful.

The music ranged from Mozart and Bach to Andrew Lloyd Webber; from simple and soulful to complex and discordant; from piano, violin and flute to tenors and sopranos.

You could almost palpably feel the pain and sorrow of the crucifixion -- especially the three hours of darkness that came over the land (Matthew 27:45). Unreal.
 

Ghost Town

After last year's nightmare travel to/from the Barbados, we almost didn't go on vacation this year but then we spotted a SniqueAway deal on a fabulous hotel in Texas, La Torretta, and jumped on it. I honestly can't bear the thought of not going away somewhere. I crave adventure. Life's too short, right? Fun. Relaxation. Sunshine. Family. Love. (Very grateful.)

The best part of this trip, aside from the relative proximity of flying to Houston vs. Barbados (via Queens), was that we bookended our fabulous resort stay with a trip to NASA/Houston Space Center on the front-end and the Houston Aquarium, Chocolate Bar, the Shops at Rice University and a wonderful dinner at Prego with our beautiful granddaughter/niece/cousin Leigh on the back-end. What else? We went to the Montgomery County Fair (great for people watching -- Texans are really not like New Yorkers at all) and we bought the hubby a real cowboy hat at Cavender's where we learned (no joke) all about the importance of beaver in the hat body (i.e., where the higher the "X" value, the greater the percentage of beaver in the felt). Who knew? Answer: Willie Nelson, probably.

Since I'm such a sucker for providing feedback, I hope that my TripAdvisor review will be posted soon. In the meantime, I'll leave you with the song that I have been singing since we arrived at our hotel that was bizarrely barren of all tourists. We had the pool, water slides, lazy river, hot tubs, restaurants, and more -- all to ourselves. Eerie. And awesome.

Jiggity Jig

Home again. Home again. I may be at work but my brain is still on vacation . . .

On a semi-related note: why does the Houston Aquarium have a white tiger? Was it unhappy in the zoo?

Pink Ribbon Scars

In continuation of yesterday's morose musical theme, today's post is about another song that I heard last week that is also sad for me: the Smashing Pumpkin's Today.

In 1993, the summer when the hubby and I got married, friends Jack & Gisella (or as the priest who officiated their wedding called them, Gary & Regina) were planning to come our wedding from CO. Instead, Gisella had been experiencing some significant back pain and, when she went to the doctor, they discovered that her breast cancer had spread and she would be undergoing a new treatment that included, ultimately, a painful bone marrow transfer.

The big hit of that time, Today, will always remind me of the juxtaposition of my wedding and the sadness of Gisella's illness and death a handful of years later.

Today is the greatest
Day I've never known
Can't wait for tomorrow
I might not have that long

The last time that I saw her, my girlfriend DeeDee and I drove down from NYC to DC where Gisella lay in a coma in the hospital. Not at all how I would like to remember her. Instead, I picture us hanging out in the art studio at SU or meandering through the shops in Breckenridge. And I remember her to my kids often because she had a sweet habit of literally running and jumping into her bed every night like a little kid -- something that Son #2 likes to do, on occasion, too.

So that's how she's still with us today. Charming. Endearing. And missed.

In the Air Tonight

Like many people, music forms the soundtrack of my life. When I hear a song that's had an impact on me, for better or for worse, I am immediately transported to that point in time when the song was imprinted on my brain. For this reason, while I love the Clash, their classic Rock the Casbah will forever remind me of a party full of drunk, singing frat boys in college that my girlfriends and I hastily departed. Conversely, while I'm not a fan of Phil Collins, the crappy Genesis song Invisible Touch reminds me watching a bunch of grade school kids dancing their hearts out on a ferry crossing the English Channel which renders it almost tolerable to me.

Horrifyingly, the Phil Collins song that I heard this morning, In the Air Tonight, reminds me of SU's Day Hall my freshman year. We had one elevator in a bank of three that, when you pushed the "emergency stop" button, would skip floors. I lived on the eighth and top residential floor -- so we continually bumped every floor stopping for no one. We called it the Day 8 Express. The repair man was also a frequent sight on our floor, and in the control room in the empty floor above, as the elevator was forever stopping between floors with the doors wide open (i.e., where people would have to climb in and out) and/or simply breaking down (i.e., out of order).

One warm, sunny day, my friends and I spent the day studying, hiking and playing Frisbee at Green Lakes State Park. When we arrived back, the winding road leading up to our dorm was closed so we parked down the hill and walked up. As we got closer, we initially noticed crowds of people gathered outside the dorm fire drill style and a moment later we saw the coroner's van. It was a slow motion, surreal experience.

Based on what we were told, a blond kid from my floor named Matt was getting into the elevator and it went up, doors wide open, to the control floor above -- decapitating him and sending his body down the shaft.

When we were allowed back into the dorm, to say the mood on the floor was somber would be a gross understatement. To the best of my recollection, we were not given grief counseling. Maybe I just don't remember it. What I do remember was a group of us sitting in Fernando's dorm room in silence just listening to music.

Well the hurt doesn't show but the pain still grows
It's no stranger to you and me

Omega Me Crazy

How many similar emails do I have to receive that announce an Epsilon data breach before realizing that Epsilon must serve every company on the planet?

Dear Epsilon, please take better care of my data for JP Morgan Chase, Citi, Ameriprise, Disney, Hilton HHonors, Marriott Rewards, Ethan Allen, and more.

And, in return for this error, please send me on an all expense paid trip to the Magic Kingdom while you stuff money in my bank account, pay off my credit card balance, invest for my kids' college education and redecorate my home. It's the least you can do. Why iota . . .

Hit the Road Jack

In news that rivals the pure excitement of our unplanned tour of Jamaica (Queens) last February, my reviews of our two back-to-back hotel stays in Binghamton, or more accurately, Vestal NY, are now posted on TripAdvisor.

First stop: The Courtyard by Marriott
Second stop: The Holiday Inn Express

The thrill never ends.

Endless Summer

Thanks to one innocent Facebook post this morning, I've been listening to the Beach Boys all day. For the most part, they remind me of my childhood girlfriend Pam McColloch who lived up the street. In the pre-cellphone 1970s, we would spend nights chatting with each other over our walkie talkies while taking turns playing Beach Boys tunes on our turntables until the batteries (or our thumbs pressing the "speak" button) quickly wore out.

The song Sloop John B, however, reminds me of arriving at Day Hall, at Syracuse University, freshman year. My bestest friend Krissy and I requested rooms in the same dorm but asked not to be roommates so we could meet other people. On the day we arrived, there was a big dorm party with kegs out on the lawn (those were the days, huh!) and music blaring. I was so excited. Kris? Not so much. She sat on the front steps, crying and singing aloud to this song. "I feel so broke up; I wanna go home." Buzz kill!