My-Not-So-Sordid Past

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye. .

July 28, 2007

While many of my favorite bloggers continue to party it up at Blogher 2007, I am here packing, packing, packing. Tomorrow, we leave for a week up in Vermont with my family and my babysitter, I mean, my mom. Our dining room is full of bags, boxes and random items. We are staying in a condo which means “bring food”; I think I have enough food for a month.

I may get time to write from up north, because I hear they have the internets way up there too. But, just in case they do not, and just in case you are really itching to read something, I will point out three “old” posts that may give you a better idea of who the enigma called “Fairly Odd Mother” really is. (“Old” is in quotes since I just started this blog last October).

This is my first post. I agonized over it for longer than I did the name of my blog (which I didn’t agonize over at all seeing as my husband thought of it). I think that it sums up a lot about who I am, even now, minus most of the drunkenness.

This is my second post and the first one where someone I did not know personally commented. Daisy, I can’t believe I’ve let you disappear from my life. You don’t know how much your comment meant to me! So, now, you will be added to my Google Reader and stalked by me for life. (j/k about the stalking!). This post is one of the few in which I discuss homeschooling. As September starts to reappear, and I start to panic, expect to see more posts on this subject.

Here is my ‘backstory‘ or whatever you call it. I keep meaning to link it off my front page, so that it can be what people get when you click on “About Me”, but that requires a bit more know-how than I know how.

Hope you all have a lovely week and, if I get inspired, I’ll pop on to talk about our week up north. Cheers!

Eight Things about that One Day

July 17, 2007

Fairly Odd Father and I are celebrating our Eighth Anniversary today!

On July 17, 1999, we were joined in wedded bliss in a ceremony and reception that can best be described as doing it ‘our way’.

Here are eight things about our wedding day that pop into my mind:

1. The weather. It wasn’t just a hot July day. It was a friggin‘ unbelievably, don’t-leave-your-air-conditioned-house, hot July day. 101 degrees hot. And we held our service outside, on the banks of my favorite pond. The reception was held in a building next to this same pond. This building had no air conditioning, just two big fans that pushed the air around the room.

Mrs Q hits the fan

Thankfully, we had told people to dress casually. Thankfully, our friends are lushes and just drank themselves cool. Thankfully, it is 10 degrees cooler on the pond (so, yes, it felt like a comfy 91 degrees!).

Water and more water; need to be sober for the vows!

2. The music. The benefit of getting married at the age of 31 is that I had been to umpteenth other weddings and had seen enough Chicken Dances, Electric Slides and Locomotions to last me a lifetime. After meeting with a DJ who promised he was ‘different’ and yet featured “Old Time Rock and Roll” on his playlist, we decided to take matters into our own hands.

Our wedding music was copied by hand onto cassette tapes and played on a boom box set up on the stage of the hall. There was plenty of swing, rockabilly, fifties hits and disco, with things like “My Sharona” thrown in to liven up the joint.

3. Our dance. When we got married, it seemed like everyone we knew took swing dance lessons. We were no different and attended weekly lessons for a few months.

At the wedding, we actually danced a sort of routine which allowed us to do something other than cling to each other and sway. “Our Song” was “You’re the Boss” by The Brian Setzer Orchestra (with Gwen Stefani). I’m sure my inlaws were wondering what happened to “Wind Beneath my Wings”.

4. Our Guests. FOF and I wanted a small wedding; I think we called it ‘intimate’. Some of this was due to the fact that we were footing the bill for it all and wanted “small but nice” instead of “big but cheap”. In creating our guest list, we had a few rules:

*we had to both know the invitee(s) pretty well

*we had to believe that they would be in our lives going forward

*we wanted a fairly even split between ‘his friends’ and ‘my friends’

*no “and guest”; only serious boyfriends/girlfriends or spouses

Since neither of us have large extended families, this meant the painful process of going through our list of friends (ok, my list of friends, since I keep in touch with everyone) and figuring out if they fit the criteria above.

How’d we do? Pretty well. There are a few of our guests who have fallen off the face of the earth, so to speak, but the majority are still in our lives.

The hardest thing to consider is the people who weren’t there. And, with a total guest list of 65 (including the bride and groom), there are plenty of old and newer friends who couldn’t be included. I’m pretty sure none of these friends hate me now, but it still bums me out.

5. Our Best Man. FOF’s brother served as his best man (my maid of honor was, of course, Mrs Q, my sister and bestest confidante in the whole world).

FOF’s brother is a sweetheart, but was a bit wild in his younger years. He showed up for the wedding wearing dark black sunglasses which he hardly ever took off. The reason? He had been in an ‘altercation’ a week or so prior which had given him two black eyes. By the time our ceremony rolled around, his eyes looked much better, but he was mortified.

The best thing about this now is when I tell people that my best man arrived with two black eyes (say it out loud and see if you don’t think he arrived with a posse).

He also ended the ceremonial toast by saying, “Let’s Party Like It’s 1999!”. Perfect!

6. Our Exit. As I mentioned, the wedding and reception were held on the banks of a pond. This pond is the same one I grew up on; my grandmother had owned a house on the other side. I lived in this house after she passed away, and then my parents moved into it in ’98.

We had planned an after-party at the house, so instead of riding off in a limo at 10pm, we took to the water. Our poor best man was huffing to get the paddle boat away from the shore; as soon as we were out of sight, FOF jumped up front to help him power it to my folks’ house.

7. The After Party. Dozens of hot, sweaty and inebriated friends and relatives ended up back at my parents’ house once the reception ended. My father sat on shore and watched over the guests who were bobbing in the water, holding onto various floats. Everyone who entered or exited the water stopped to shake his hand or to say hello, as if he were holding court.

My father offers my groom some important advice. Not sure why my dad is making a ‘gun’ sign with his hand.

We had a skinny dipper with no shame. We had a friend try to ‘save’ the best man from his life of violence and vice (she largely succeeded). We had a friend’s baby who screamed when someone tried to give her a bottle of the wrong breast milk. We do not, however, have a single photo from the after party.

8. Mr. and Mrs. Of course, the most important thing about our wedding was the fact that us two crazy kids were married. And, in eight years since, we have bought one house, birthed three children, lost one parent, cut back one income, and primarily look forward to a future full of promise.

If anyone who was at our wedding is reading this and wants to share your best memory of it, please add a comment. I’m sure you’ll remember things I didn’t mention here!

And, Happy Anniversary to my husband, John! I look forward to celebrating our fiftieth together when we are teetery old folks.

Flashbacks of a Good Kind

June 28, 2007

I keep having flashbacks to my youth.

First it was watching The Best of the Electric Company, thanks to Netflix. I remember liking this show when I was younger, but couldn’t remember much about it.

Now I remember what made it so awesome: Morgan Freeman as Easy Reader (oozing coolness in his too-tight bell bottoms); Letterman (Faster than a Rolling O, Stronger than a Silent E. . .); child actors who weren’t polished into scary smiling robots; and an overall feeling that the people of this show were having a blast at it.

And then there was this:

Oh yeah, Inchworm. We had this growing up but my mom ditched it years ago (probably during one of her “I have two girls who are getting old, and I have nooooooo grandchildren” fits). Luckily my sister got this one from a friend, and now my mother’s FIVE grandchildren will be able to ride on this for years to come.

Then I saw this person:

M. is one of my oldest childhood friends; we met when I was almost 8, she was 9, and we lived a street apart until college. It didn’t matter that she was a jock and I was a girlie-girl, or that we didn’t even go to the same high school.

Since college, she has lived in New York, Japan, Colorado, The Netherlands, and now, California. During this same time, I have lived in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. It doesn’t matter that we seemingly are so different—-we have all the right things in common that make a friendship last decades.

Here we are in 1984, looking just too cute in matching Hampton Beach-wear.

And, now, this weekend, I will see this crew:

(sorry J.; as you know,we took this with the ‘blonde‘ camera; we can almost see you off my right shoulder!)

These are my high school girlfriends. Over the 20+ years since graduation, we have lost touch and reconnected with each other several times. Our kids range in age from 2 to 13. The last time we were all together was our 20th high school reunion in ’05.

This weekend we will descend upon Boston like locust, or maybe more like five drunk housewives who can’t believe they have just left the kids with dad for two whole nights. If history has any bearing, it should be a very fun few days.

I mean, look at what we were up to in 1985:

Yes, those are the “French Fry guys”. I think I was red.