Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Rambling: Team Red

...takes gold and exchanges silver

What have I been doing? There is no excuse. None. Sigh. Okay, there is a teeny excuse. There has been some unpacking. And some organizing. And some cleaning. For days....

I promise. I'll never leave you again. Is it seriously September? Lord. I'm not only nesting, I'm about to start saying things like, "Wow, how time flies." So, that's the big news. David moved in on August 15, while I was (incidentally) at my best friend's wedding in Denver, CO.

Woo. The big move-in. Sounds serious. Right before I left for Denver (two days before David was supposed to move in), the floor in my room mysteriously began to buckle. My landlord told us it was no big deal. He said, "It's most likely from your air conditioning unit."

I'm sure.

So, not only did David move his stuff in, as soon as I got back from Denver, we had to move everything out of the bedroom.

Thus, with everything out of the room...why not paint? Light blue. Check.

Denver recap. I got to Denver around 1 a.m., made it to Ruthie and Pete's around 2 a.m.

Ruthie: Redhead. Love of Peter's life. We have been friends since we were about ten or so. Drives a red Volkswagen Euro Van. Teacher.

Pete: Redhead. Love of Ruthie's life. Father to Sage, a black Lab. Drives a black Volkswagen SUV. Mortgage Broker.

Me: Bridesmaid in their August 16 nuptials.

Needless to say (I have never understood that expression), I was a little bleary-eyed for most of Thursday morning. There is something about the morning and friends and family combined. We drank coffee, made omelets, and ate outside on the patio Pete and Ruthie constructed themselves. Nothing says commitment like a home improvement project. The picture below is of tomatoes from Ruth's garden. Charming, aren't they? Ruthie hypothesized they were lacking calcium. They didn't make the cut for inclusion in the breakfast omelets.

Ruthie called me about a week before the wedding and asked if she could wear fuchsia shoes to her wedding. I told her it was her wedding, and she could do whatever she wanted. Aren't they just perfect? When in doubt, be unconventional.

And then. The rain. I believe it is sunny something like 361 days out of the year in Denver. The Beugg wedding somehow caught three of the rainy days. Everything was supposed to be outside, so the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding were moved to Plan B. What can you say? Ruth was a trooper.

This is Ruthie and Pete's neighbor holding her baby, Josephine. Edible. I swear. She stayed in the sling the whole reception, looking like a little peach.

Aren't these so Anthropology? I was a HUGE fan of these assorted mini cupcakes. As in, I had six. Well? How can a girl choose? Red velvet, chocolate, vanilla....

I realized Sunday morning at brunch that I had missed my flight, which apparently was scheduled for Sunday morning at 12:35 a.m. -- not Monday morning at 12:35 a.m. Ah, flying. I always feel like I am rolling the dice. When it was all said and done, Anne Marie and I sat at the Denver airport for about six hours Sunday night. We thought we would be able to skip our red-eye flights and jump on an earlier flight, but no such luck. Instead we sat at an airport bar (remember Carrie's wedding? $8 airport beers never let you down) listening to our bartender tell us completely inappropriate jokes. I'm not sure what it was about us that led him to believe we were girls who would appreciate dirty jokes. Surely, it was not the Bloody Mary and large latte I was drinking simultaneously.

What is it about airports that makes eating at Chili's such a treat? No clue, but that was all we wanted. Fajitas...someone, anyone. Instead, Ams and I ended up eating at some bbq place.

I can't believe Ruthie is married just like I can't believe it's already September. It feels like just yesterday we were gorging ourselves on her mother's homemade bread and she was sneaking me Pop Tarts to eat on the school bus.

How time flies. Love certainly makes it feel more like floating.

How time floats. There-now that sounds better. I'm not sure that even makes sense, but it sounds delicious.

Now, imagine me after a red-eye shuffling through Grand Central Terminal at 7:00 a.m. Rush hour in NYC. Now that's something to chew on.

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