Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Blogger Vacation
The Seminarian will be on vacation for no longer than 2 weeks. While I wish I were going to a rustic cabin in the woods, alas, I'm only going across the hall. But as I will be spending most of my time there trying my hardest to pass this semester and not flee from Chicago in a panic, there will be little time for blogging. Thank you, that is all. See y'all sometime around May 6th. Mark your calendars...May 6th.
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Free Publicity
Awh, looooook, I got a mention on The Boyfriend's Blog.
Here's the shirt in question, in case you're wondering.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Link
I don't usually like this website. Some of you may have heard of it? The Manolo website? The guy who talks in the third person and does most entries about shoes? Yeah, not appealing to me, anyway.
But I did find this one pretty funny.
Graduation Day
Well, it's finally happened. After numerous false starts, having trouble getting my footing, and changing direction after running into walls, I'm finally graduating!
Without further ado, I proudly announce...The First Sweater!
Really, I really am happy. In the picture I was just getting frustrated with myself for always forgetting to set the camera timer for EVERY SINGLE SHOT. I got tons of close-ups of the palm of my hand, if you'd like to see them. But for now, let's stick to the sweater.
The Specs:
Pattern -- Interweave Knits Spring 2004, "Striped Angora Raglan"
Yarn -- Knitpicks Merino Style in Cornflower, Iris, Honey and Hollyberry
Needles -- Size 7 and size 9 DPNS and circular needles. The circs came with Bertha, what got me all started on this knitting adventure. Nice to see them included in the moment. Sigh... And it's been just a little over a year since the Bertha post! Wooow!
Note the requisite Rachael pose.
Graduation Day is a day of celebration. I am really impressed that I did this. Who wouldn't want to knit and get this sense of accomplishment? The sweater is sweat-shirt soft, not a bit of itch. So warm that on a 60 degree day, I pretty much took pictures, wore it for 10 minutes and then had to change. Really looking forward to next winter now. No, not really. It is only a sweater. Something to look forward to, though.
But in true Morris tradition, Graduation Day is also a day to look back and think of all the things I shoulda done. I can only find one, though. I should have gone for a more subtle yellow. That's it, though, nothing else.
Graduation Day is a day where you reflect on all the stuff you've learned through your hard work. I learned how to bind off for a neckline without fear. I learned that to keep a stripe pattern looking uniform, some tinkering with colorchanges is necessary. Most importantly, I learned not to be a slave to a pattern. I learned that it will all turn out in the (hand) wash (only) to use different measurements in the pattern for different pieces of the sweater. I learned that, like a script for actors, patterns are but mere guidelines. When you decide you want to do the Large version, it's ok to utilize the Small measurements for things such as length. It may not be perfectly proportioned for a 5'9" model, but it's perfect for me. In fact, I've gotten more questions asking if it's for a kid. But when I slip it on, I realize that it's one garment that fits me exactly the way I want it to fit, hard for someone with my length and width. And that's the perfect graduation gift.
The End
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Extra Extra Entry Entry
Lookie what's getting its inaugural Bath!!!!
Full disclosure tomorrow!
That Time of Year--the Sequel
Yes, we're approaching the last week of class and finals. Those of you who've been reading along throughout my first year here in Chicago will remember the status of my desk just after Thanksgiving. I have a sermon due on Monday, and that's it for the week. I don't have any classes until then. :-) However, things are getting back to that status in my "work area".
This time, though, there's a problem. See, I've got this sweater that I'm really close to finishing. I mean REEEAAALLY. So close that I'm getting to the point where I can cast aside the circular needle and put things back onto DPN's. But I can't find the fourth DPN needed to do that. I found two on the desk, one in the knitting basket, there are none under the desk or the computer cart...I can't really spend hours looking for it, but I really want to finish this sweater! I could go out and buy another set...no, that would be stupid at this point. There is also supposed to be a fifth needle that might be around.
Oh wait...
Nevermind.
No kidding. Not staged. When I was editing the desk picture for a rant-filled entry on a missing needle, based on "why can't I be neater," I saw the needle in the photo. Right before my eyes. "How'd it get there," you ask? Don't question my organzational skillz says I.
Monday, April 18, 2005
And ANOTHER thing!
I just don't want to go to bed tonight!
Just a quick link. This is the "easiest" of the tests that I will take for ordination. It's "easy" cause it's multiple choice, and you only have to get 75% right. Take it if dare.
One More Thing...
Blog counter stats just serve to freak you out.
Searches that yield my site:
Wedding Sermon(s) -- ok, fine.
Sophie Bag "bind off" -- I'm actually honored.
Knitty Mariposa -- again, honored.
Hair clippers neck -- gettin a little weird.
Chicago Post Office Lake Michigan Throw Mail -- Why yes, yes they do.
My personal fave:
Picture of mouse poop look like
My only hope is that the search was for educational purposes, like teaching your five year old that no, that's not a piece of burnt rice.
(That search obviously yielded my write-up on Peace Fleece in which I found mouse poo spun into the yarn. So they got me legitimately.)
It's like going to a Satan Shoppe Wal-Mart and observing what people buy in the express lane. You don't want to know what the guy is up to who's buying gold fish, a rubber mallet, paper towels, and a can of Lysol. You're afraid to ask, but you just gotta wonder.
Why I'm a Bad Writer
I have no witty repartee today. No wonderful, meandering introduction that leads to the "a-ha" moment connecting my past with my current knitting project. I'm just gonna launch right into it:
Last night The Roommate and I hosted a Knitting Night. This was our first, and it was planned before the deep freeze that has been our relationship in the past ten years week. Seriously, we have avoided each other like the plague since the blow-up last Monday, my God was it only last Monday?
Anyway, rumors were widespread about who was coming. The Roommate had the idea to focus this on a charity theme of knitting four feet of white cotton garter stitch for bandages. A barn burner. Therefore, it seemed as if everyone wanted to attend. The VP of student affairs, teller of truth, scourge of The Roommate said that she would be there, as well as the prez. The prez. who has never attended a knitting night all year. Gulp. This would require cleaning...and finger food.
Friday and Saturday were spent (by yours truly) vacuuming, dusting, reorganizing, scrubbing things that haven't been scrubbed since November, sorting recycling, sweeping the floor, etc. I left two things undone: Scrubbing the kitchen floor (I've been told my technique is "inadequate"), and The Roommate's bedroom (while the door is now unlocked, I think she would object, it's a boundary issue). Sunday, The Roommate came out of her room and began feverishly cleaning her bathroom and her bedroom and feverishly asking me questions, as she has never been to a knitting night. "Are we going to have enough food? (yes) Should I get dressed up? (no. it's just knitting) Are people going to be ok sitting on the floor? (yes)" This is the most she's talked to me all week.
I set up the food, brewed the iced tea, took out the trash, and tried to ignore the antics going on down the hall with some feverish knitting in my room. Folks were scheduled to arrive at 7:15 PM. At 6:45, Roommate emerges from her room dressed as if to go to Sunday Worship. After several thorough laps around the apartment, she goes back into her room and comes out at 7:05, goes into the kitchen, emits a LOUD (audible from my room) sigh, gets out the Mr. Clean and, in her Sunday best, begins to scrub the kitchen floor. "I can't believe I thought I could let it go!" Personally, it was swept clean, there were no noticeable spots on it. I wouldn't have eaten off of it, but I would utilize the 5 second rule. At 7:13, she pulls out the vacuum. "I vacuumed yesterday," I say, trying hard not to duplicate the Fire Alarm Catastrophe. "Oh, ok," she says, turning around, "I'm just going to vacuum my room. Even though no one will see it, I know that there will be people in our home and my floor will be dirty." Mmmm'kay.
Luckily, the prez. didn't show up. The Roommate chose a seat for herself strangely outside of the main knitting circle, and managed not to pull a nutty on the VP of student affairs whom I kept occupied with much knitting talk. I was imagining the content of Knitting Night to be strictly enforced, all bandages, all the time, but I was not reprimanded in public (nor in private...yet) for knitting the Goal-Oriented Raglan, nor was another stitchin sem. who opted for a scarf in recycled sari silk.
Yes, I'm going to hell. But personally, I would rather spend my charity knitting on the Dulaan or Linus Projects than on something that has ultra-strict guidelines (cast on 14 stitches with size 8 needles...do you think they count them when they get them, throwing out all the donated stuff that is made of 13 or 15 stitches?) and will be pitched, yes pitched, after one use. No thanks. I'll take the money I would have spent on plain white cotton yarn and get them some gauze.
Wow, you guys have really been patient with that rant. I really appreciate the patience. Between the much-needed calming of frazzled nerves and the three hours of Knitting Night, may I present...
The last picture of the Goal-Oriented Raglan that you will see before blocking. :-) I have to keep SOME suspense. The sleeves are attached, but I gotta tell ya...I'm about ready to throw this guy in the basket. I know, I know, fate worse than death for a knitted project. I'm anticipating issues with binding off for the neck, same as with Samwise. But this one is going to fit me better than Samwise and the yarn is oh so much softer. I also keep screwing up on the decreases that will create the raglan effect. They're supposed to start out once every four rows. I'm having trouble counting to four, even though the pattern explicitely states, "starting on the 10th row of the stripe pattern..." That means I don't have to count higher than 8 to determine where one of these decreases comes.
Math has never been my subject.
Thanks for hanging in there. Things here are at their boiling point and I needed the vent.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Squeaky Wheels + Grease = Yarn
Guess what showed up? It actually showed up midweek, but it got excluded due to the whole Roommate drama.
Mmmm...laceweight. Something about a failed delivery attempt. Yeah! Who is willing to accept mail at 6:45 AM????? Apparently, other yarn delivered to the seminary by postal service has gone astray in transit. Hmm... Methinks we may have a knitting mail carrier.
Look also at what I absconded with money from the Chicago Quilt Show.
That's right. 0000's Cause I've never seen em online. :-D Those little things on the end are point protectors that came with the needles. mwahahaha
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Calm Before Storm
Down to the last two weeks of classes here. There's been a strange lull in work this week that I can only describe as the calm before the storm. This picture was from a couple of weeks ago as a front of spring thunderstorms powered their way toward Lake Michigan. This was about an hour or two before sunset.
This lull made for some good worrying last weekend. The roommate turned up sometime between midnight and 4 AM on Sunday night. On Monday, she proceeded to blame me for a "truth-telling" meeting that she had with the VP of student affairs. It was a bad meeting for her and apparently it was my fault that she got "bitched out" for skipping a month's worth of classes, holeing up in her room for a weeks on end, and then blaming all others for her lack of success here at seminary. You see why a disappearing act like the one pulled over the weekend was a cause for concern? After she used the situation to point out all of my flaws as a roommate and my "entirely inappropriate behavior," it made it a lot easier to tell her that I was moving out for the next school year.
Good worrying makes for good knitting. :-) I've gotten a lot done in the past week or so, keeping my mind focused on increases, decreases, fair isle, dropped stitches and not on a missing roommate.
I've had several pet projects this week.
Clapotis was the first. Whoever said that this project is gorgeous but is a yarn-sucking abyss was absolutely right. Rows and rows and I'm about a quarter of the way through. Phew. I don't do small projects anymore.
Secondly, The Second Coming of the Antichrist. This picture shows little difference (maybe 3 rows) from the last picture I posted, but you have to consider its history. Antichrist has been completely ripped out twice now. This version, with 48 extra stitches and a size larger needles, finally fits and I'm well into the first Fair Isle section. This project is excellent for losing yourself. I've tried it watching movies, old favorites and new acquisitions, I've tried it talking to people and I've always lost my way. Thursday I spent two hours watching a movie with a friend and achieved a grand total of one net row. (I knit four rows, realized a big screw up and had to "tink" all of them) The best way, I've determined, is to knit this complicated Fair Isle while waiting for something: a roommate returning, a friend at a meeting. It's knitting where you feel every stitch pattern seared into the back of your eyeballs. I love it. I love it.
Finally, the Goal Oriented Sweater is well on its way to being the first one done. This week I began my first stay on Sleeve Island. I discovered last night that a good bottle of wine makes the stay a lot better. Hopefully this sleeve will be finished tonight with the help of the new Prairie Home Companion.
In blogging news, I'm hoping for to add a few gallery pages (Justin!) or something in the coming weeks. I've got so many pictures from last weekend's Chicago Quilt Festival that there's no way I can put them all up here. The page takes forever to load on my computer to begin with.
Here's a teaser:
Yeah, diversity. I should put an over 18 warning at the top of the entry now.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Roommate
So, my roommate's gone MIA. Seriously. No, seriously. There are times when she dives into her room and shuts the door and avoids me for days on end, but there are signs. When you live with someone like that, you learn how to tell if they're around or not. The bathroom door position changes. I would hear her go up and go to the bathroom. There are new dishes in the sink. There are new boxes of hamburger helper in the trash. None of that. She hasn't been here since Friday noon when she just left with her bookbag and hasn't been back.
I should point out that we don't have that great of relationship. We chat on occasion, but we don't really like each other and we both know that, although neither one of us is willing to admit it to the other. I don't even know her parents' names or the names of anyone she hangs out with.
We did have an exchange that probably pissed her off good before she left (although it's hard to tell). I'm hoping that she's just cooling her jets at a friend's house for the weekend. What was it?
Well, we have very sensitive fire alarms in the building. And there's one that's about 3 feet away from the stove. My roommate has a tendency to set off that fire alarm. Somehow, I never do. Friday morning, she set it off again. When I came back from evacuating the building, she was still cooking, saying, "if the alarm's gone off once, there's no need to stop cooking." So I went over and opened up a window. "No! The last time, the firemen said that that carries the steam right past the sensor." Then I made the mistake of getting snotty with her, but for those of you who have heard, "crazy Roommate" stories, you'd know how much I hold it in around her. I said, "Well, let's see, when I cook I open the window and the alarm never goes off. When you cook, you leave the window closed and you've set the alarm off three times now. Let's just try it my way for awhile."
I left and took a shower, and when I came out, she was still cooking and had shut the window again. Whatever. But now she's been gone for over 36 hours and it's kinda wiggin me out. If it's over that, I'd be grateful, to be honest with you.
Saturday, April 9, 2005
Project du'jour
I had a bit of a freakish experience last night. I woke up at one in the morning (I think I went to bed around 10:30) sweltering. This, actually, isn't the unusual part. My apartment is ridiculously difficult to keep cool, even in a Chicago January. We get ambient heat through the floor. I've actually picked up clothes to put them in the hamper and they've been WARM from the steam pipes underneath. But I digress. I also have a tendency to borrow and nest in the covers at night (TMI?), covering myself with blankets and quilts even if the starting temperature is 75. It's a womb thing, I think. Freud would love me.
Anyway, for whatever reason, I woke up at 1 in the morning sweltering and sweaty. I had shut the window before I went to bed. Big mistake. I threw it open and went out to fill up my water glass. At that moment, I was seized by some sort of pixie or impish creature, perhaps a brownie, which DROVE me back into my room and MADE ME START CLEANING.
Keep in mind, ordinarily, I can barely see my floor. I'm an INFP. I don't notice mess, I work well in chaos. I remember where my keys are when I stuck them in the fridge. I'd been knitting all day yesterday and occasionally glancing around (usually when I dropped my yarn ball and it got hopelessly entangled in clutter) and thinking that I should really clean. I never did. Until 1 AM. I put things away, you can see the top of my desk! I dusted! I would have vacuumed if I thought my roommate was awake. I even wound a new ball of yarn for a project! I was a woman possessed.
While this was a rare occurence (the middle of the night thing). But it is not unusual for me to get ultimately and intensely focused on one thing for a short amount of time. Yesterday, it was my long lost companion, Clapotis. Perhaps it was the new knitty that came out (I'm looking at Mariposa, Soleil, Branching Out and I Do -- I DID catch the bouquet) and I was feeling guilty. Perhaps it was that I don't have size 8 DPN's for the Goal-Oriented Sweater sleeves. Perhaps it was a combination of events.
For whatever reason, Clapotis became the Project du'jour.
Friday, April 8, 2005
The Lake Michigan Triangle
Stories of Chicago's postal service are the stuff of legend. There are rumors of postal workers dying in their apartments, police showing up and finding, along with no evidence of foul play, years and years worth of undelivered mail. Bags of mail have been found in dumpsters and in the trunks of cars. Mail has disappeared in a mysterious triangle over Lake Michigan...the Lake Michigan Triangle, (I'm not doing creative names today).
A few weeks ago I made a yarn purchase from Arcadia Knitting, a local store in Chicago. Owned by two sisters, their internet business (with which I have a large gift certificate) is run by their brother out of a house in Nebraska. It is a wonderful store with wonderful WONDERFUL customer service. I got three skeins of laceweight and a Bobby Bear pattern from Blue Sky Alpaca. As this is my first purchase of laceweight yarn, I was obsessively checking the mail five times a day greatly anticipating it's arrival.
You can tell what's happened to it already. I got an email on the 24th of March that the package was sent out that day to my school address via US Priority Mail. After I returned from the wedding, on the third, I was fully expecting a nice package slip in my box. Alas there was none. I asked Paul, the wonderful mail guy if anything had come in for me. Nope. I emailed Arcadia (wonderful people!) who promptly replied with a Postal "Service" tracking number. Plugging the number into the Postal "Service"
website, I learned that the package was delivered to the "the ZIP code" at 6:45 AM on the 26th. Hmm...this is a problem. The school isn't open to receive packages at 6:45 AM. Neither is the post office. Something is fishy.
I track down the number of the local post office branch. "Yeah, we'll look into that and give you a call back in a few minutes." Three hours later, ten minutes before the close of business, I call back just to see if anything's been found out. "Yes ma'am. We're aware of your problem. Give us time to work on it." M'k. A little snarky, but it's the end of the day.
But this is yarn, so I called back the next morning. As I suspected, NOBODY had ANY IDEA that I had called the previous day. After being tossed around, I finally got someone who was willing to listen to my story, take down the actual tracking number and not just my name, and actually PUT ME ON HOLD in order to "visually confirm" the package at the post office. I knew if I hung up, all would be lost. I stayed on the line for 20 minutes, enduring three people who got on the line and said, "Why are you on the line? WHO are you???" Finally, she came back, bless her heart, and said, "It's the strangest thing, it claims it was delivered to this ZIP code and NOT your address, so that means it should be here. But it's not here!" Go figure. I'm so shocked that something was lost by the Postal "Service." "Let me make sure I have all the information and I'll research it some more."
Riiight. Like that leaves me a lot of hope.
Any ideas?
Wednesday, April 6, 2005
Schedule
I've been reading blogs too long, let me tell you. Not writing them, just reading them. Each day has a schedule of class and blog reading. Take this morning as an example, I went for a walk (cause Chicago is GORGEOUS today...like gorgeous in the blow it all off and head to Wrigley gorgeous), came back and made some oatmeal, sat down at the computer and pondered...who's up by now? Who will have posted by now? I love living in the central time zone because all the east coasters blog an hour earlier!
Alison is up before class (and 9 times out of 10 posts on the weekends)
As is Norma
andBossy Little Dog
and sometimes Marcia, if she's having health issues that get her up early.
Don't check The Harlot until after 11, but check compulsively if she hasn't posted by 1.
Claudia is also pretty regular at getting up by 11, but Mondays she posts later in the day.
Then there's Rachael, my evening search. Rachael has a wacky 911 schedule and lives on the West coast to boot. Some mornings I'll be surprised by a 3 AM post, but usually she's a "check after class" kinda gal.
As for the rest of you, you seem to be like me. I'll squeeze in an entry when I can. Some weeks are less busy than others.
Today, there's more than links, there's actual knitting content.
Before the reveal, I need to admit a few things. I will not hang my head in shame. I will proudly admit them and say, Ha! So there!
1. I never finish anything. If you've been reading here for a long time, you see that the "I started this" pages are a lot more prevalent than the "I finished this" pages. Admittedly, I'll have a main project for awhile and then switch and circulate. There are some more daring endeavors that I just can't bring myself to touch (Antichrist hat, for example).
2. I get frustrated easily. This is where positive feedback backfires. I've only been knitting for a year and half or so. But you can't tell that to my fellow stitchin sems who have dubbed me "the knitting guru." I don't know how to do fancy things, I just know where to look them up, but then the instructions get me as confused as the rest of you.
3. This has led to me throwing my first two previous attempts at sweaters into the deep nether-regions of the knitting basket. Samwise, because I did and redid the bind-offs for the neck 5 or 6 times, finally got it right and then realized that I shouldn't have been cabling the middle cable for the past 2 inches. I cannot make amends right now, nor will I let him show his face. The Harry Potter sweater front was going along great guns. I had my tension issues worked out, the "M" is even and doesn't look like a puckered mess. But I started with the front because I couldn't bear just row after row of stockinette. My error proved fatally frustrating at this direction for the front: "Continue straight until work measures same as back up to shoulder shaping." Sigh. This means that I have to put the front on stitch holders (or at least on hold) quickly knit up a back (you all know how fast that'll go) and then finish the front. I just don't have the stamina right now.
4. I'm going through the growing pains of knitting. I desperately want to be an adult, to be able to look at a set of decrease instructions or bind-off instructions and know exactly what's going on. I want to be able to knit a sweater and finish it. One that actually fits. Yet every time I try, I keep realizing how childlike I still am and that I should go back to scarves (of which I've made about a dozen, I think).
This is all to prepare you for what I'm about to say. Awhile back, I "splurged" on some knitpicks yarn (the stuff is such a good value, you can't really say "splurged, though), enough for...a sweater. Another sweater. They're all in a race now as to who will get finished off first. Who will have the honor of being...the first sweater.
This one is called "Striped Angora Raglan" designed by Ann Budd (I think I love everything she does) for the Spring 04 issues of IK. That name is too plain for me, however, I am dubbing this sweater the Goal-Oriented Raglan. I'm predicting (place your bets like the guys in Ireland are doing on the next pope) that this will be the first sweater finished. Why? Cause for one thing, it's knit in the round. Knitting the back and front at once! Who knew??
However, I am not without my doubts. Here is the current progress:
As you can see, I am just starting the first round of color work. That's a good thing! I got a lot accomplished on the California trip. The bad thing is that I spent the entire final flight to Chicago ALSO on the firs section of stripes. which then got ripped out at home because I discovered that the main bulk of the sweater was supposed to be 10" long, but it was only 9 1/2". Ripped back and added a half an inch. I'll spare you all the gorey details, but this is the fourth time I've "started" the first stripe section. I was an ass and didn't circle the number I cast on. It's come back to haunt me through trial and error, but this time I finally have it figured out.
I'm predicting, however, that this will not be the smooth sweater I imagined it to be. Stay Tuned.
A Final Note
The Boyfriend just set me up with Haloscan for the comments. Perhaps some of you had noticed all the spam I was getting. Haloscan allows me to see with much greater detail who is checking out the site. I don't know if it's uncouth to call out "lurkers" or not, but I just have to say, if you're from Gurnee, Illinois and use a Mac, wow! Thanks! You visit the site more than I do! Can I have a name that goes with the IP address? Or a comment? There was this mysterious IP with the last comments software that checked out the site more than anyone, and used a Mac. I always had it pegged to like my dad at work or Stacie. Send me at email or something. stitchinseminarian[at]yahoo[dot]com
Tuesday, April 5, 2005
Thank you for flying WTF airlines. Have a nice day.
On Sunday I had very little ability of figuring out what time it was. This is what happens when you land in three different time zones and have daylight savings time kicking in and only having two hours of sleep. As you can tell from that last sentence, I'm still recovering.
The Wedding
The wedding was absolutely gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful, in its simplicity. It was pretty much family and the bridal party. Any friends who were there were in the bridal party. And then there was me.
This is a picture of the Kenyon crew (note all the tuxes). For those of you who weren't aware, I preached at the wedding, hence the suit. Normally I would wear something more fun to a wedding. Let me tell you, family gets totally jipped when at a wedding. You end up staring at your loved one's backs and it's the people like me (sometimes complete strangers) who get the bird's eye view. I wish I could have taken pictures of what I saw. Emily's eyes welling up, Andrew's chin quivering right before his voice totally cracked. I got to watch the rings get put on the Bible, to watch the priest bind Andrew and Emily's hands togeter. I got to watch how tight Emily's dad was holding her hand, those last moments that he was the most important man in her life. Why wouldn't anyone want to have my job?
Oh yeah. The public speaking. That went beautifully. I got a ten year old cousin to compliment me saying "Most weddings I've been to are so boring, but you really made me laugh!" Man, you can't get a bigger compliment than that! Ten year olds HATE church! I also got a mention in the groom's dad's toast. "Melissa, the V. family would be honored if you could preach at every wedding of ours from now on." I told him to contact my agent.
Honestly, I have never seen two families get along better than Emily and Andrew's. They worked wonderfully together, laughed together, more mother of bride & groom hugs than I've ever seen. I highly approve. :-)
At the reception, I caught the bouquet, a one-handed, left-handed grab, right out of the hands of a frantic bridesmaid. Her boyfriend was there and he desperately DIDN'T want her to catch the bouquet. Justin has been warned. The Kenyon Crew said it "kicked ass." They were pretty drunk by that point.
I have to get a little nostalgic here. This is probably one of the last times that I'm in a wedding where I can be myself (other than my own, apparently it's coming soon due to the bouquet catching). It's traditional that the pastor leave right after he/she says the grace. You don't want them around for the above picture. But these were my friends. These were the ones who have seen me plastered, who love to tell the story of me winning the game of Trivial Pursuit between trips to the bathroom to throw up. (Pee-Wee Reese was the answer, I don't remember the question.) They've heard me swear. They've heard me swear a lot. Yet they're also cool with me wanting to be a pastor, cause they know that it's part of me, but not all encompassing. I'm going to miss being seen as a person first and my career as second. I'm going to miss knowing people that I can get drunk with and still feel safe. I'm going to miss being able to dance at weddings.
On the other hand, I was overwhelmed by how well everyone thought I did. A real call-affirming experience. :-)
The Flight
Remember in my last entry about the flights I booked? Yeah. It was pretty damn miraculous that I found myself in Ontario, California on Thursday afternoon and Chicago, IL on Sunday night. My "initial flights," the most important ones, invariably got screwed up. Thursday morning, it was a "lavatory malfunction" that prevented the plane from even BOARDING because it was the lavatory right by the hatch door. As we were waiting, this family with 5 kids approached the gate ranging from age 3-16, I would say. Now, being the aunt of a family with 5, I thought I could be sympathetic. But when the three year old started undoing all the nylon seat-belt type things that airports use for line formation, and NO ONE did anything about it for the tenth time, I was getting a little miffed. Was I focusing all my stress on them? You bet. Who wouldn't? Now, I didn't say anything, and I would like to think that I can make the "it's not hurting them so who cares" mentality work. However, there's a difference between unharmful and rude. My children will get beaten into submission for being rude. Not only did we have the 3 year old running around, but we had a 9 year old and a 12 year old literally running around in circles around the family's luggage. One of them trips and falls over the 6 year old (the black sheep of the family) who was quietly sitting on the floor reading but who quickly began sobbing because she had her poor hand trod on. In the mean time, dad has noticed the three year old and is "punishing" him by means of picking him up just before he gets to a barrier, and throwing him in the air, making the kid giggle with glee. Yeah. Positive reinforcement for negative behavior. I'd love to see Dr. Phil observe this crowd.
Compared to the flight back, however, the free range children were a piece of cake. I had a 6:40 A.M. flight from Ontario to Phoenix. With the daylight savings time, that means I was taking a flight that took off at what felt like 5:40 A.M. I left the hotel at 4:30 A.M. (felt like 3:30 A.M.) and got the airport at about 5 A.M. I was standing right in front of the ticket counter when the airline's computers went down. Yeah. So I stood there for about 20 minutes, and I notice that one of the ticket counter folks is asking people in the rapidly expanding line what flight they were for. Those for the 6:40 flight were being removed from the line and herded into a separate area. No one asked me. After she did this three times or so, I said, "Excuse me, I'm from the 6:40 flight." "Ok ma'am, that flight's been cancelled. Your plane never came in last night." Here is where I say it for the first time. WTF? Was there a crash I wasn't aware of? How can a plane just not come in??? I also have a three hour layover in Phoenix, so I do have a little padding. I'm sure they put me on another flight. "Well, I'm sure you are to," she says. "But we don't know which one because the computers are down." Uhh...so what's the deal? I shit you not, here was her reply at 5:30 A.M: "We're going to put you all into taxis and run you over to Long Beach airport for a 6:55 A.M.flight. It's Sunday morning, you'll make it in about 45 minutes." W...T...F??? That leaves like 30 minutes to check in (I have a paper ticket and can't do the ultra quick e-check in), get through security and get on the plane before IT PULLS OUT AT 6:55!!! Forget that most flights close their gates 10-15 minutes before that time.
So we're taken in groups of three and four to the taxi stand where there are few taxis cause...y'know, it's 5:45 in the morning. We're standing there waiting until about 6 A.M. when our cab pulls up with the broken-English speaking driver. (I'm not a xenophobe, this is important later on.) He struggles to get my carry-on, another woman's carry on, and a 6'8" behemoth's golf clubs into the trunk. I think this took him about an hour. Eventually, we're all piled into the back of this cab, luggage thrown everywhere, and we're off! "What time flight?" "6:55" I say. He looks at his little dispatch screen which says 5:00A.M. "Plenty time. Plenty time. No problem. I get you there." Yeah, you got it. It's not set for daylight savings time yet. "No, your clock is wrong. Today the clocks all moved forward cause of the DST thing." "No, how can it be wrong? I know my time. That is my time. No problem." I try logic, "No, I left my hotel on a 4:30 A.M. shuttle. I got to the airport in 20 minutes and spent well over 30 minutes in front of the ticket counter waiting. There's no way it can only be 5 A.M." "I'm sorry, but you're wrong. That is my time." Things started to heat up a little bit. Finally, Behemoth, who must have a master's in conflict management and was shaking his head at the man's stupidity the whole time said, "Look, if you just get us there in 45 minutes, we'll be happy. Less than that, we'd be ecstatic." "No problem. No problem." Five minutes later we pull into a gas station! The driver gets out and walks, WALKS CASUALLY into the convenience store. I said, "This can't be a good sign." Keep in mind, all the passengers are aware that we only have 45 minutes til the flight LEAVES while the one responsible for getting us there thinks we have an hour longer. A minute later, he casually walks back out, removes the hose from the pump and starts trying to find the select octane button, but with no avail. I open my door and say to him, "Up. UP! Up at the top!" "Where?" "You want the blue one, right? Up at the top in the middle!" The man starts looking ON TOP OF the gas pump. He finally finds it, where it says "press here," and thanks me. I shut the door and Behemoth says, "I think we should jump him, force HIM to sit in the backseat while one of US drives." The driver pumps $20 worth of gas, and we're off again. We get to the airport at 6:45, the cab driver once again says, "See? Plenty time! I told you I'd do everything I could!"
We haul ass to the ticket counter. Where there is no one around. No one at the desks, no one standing in line. And why should they be? After the 6:55 flight, nothing takes off until after noon. Finally, two women casually saunter out. I swear to God, everyone moves in slow motion when you are depending on them to get you somewhere QUICKLY. "Can we help you?" they say in puzzled/concerned voices, obviously sensing our tension. No one from Ontario has called them, they have no idea what we're talking about. Luckily, however, the computers (which were down in the entire America West network) are back up. They get on the phone and suss everything out within 5 minutes. It is precisely 6:55 A.M. when the ticket lady at Long Beach airport says, "They're holding the plane for you. But don't stop to get breakfast or anything along the way."
As we're walking (not casually) to the plane, I say to Behemoth, "This is why I never fly. Stuff like this always happens to me." To which he replies, "I fly all the time. This has NEVER happened to me."
WTF?
Tomorrow, I'll put up a picture of my in-flight stress-relief project which NO SECURITY CREW EVER TOOK AWAY FROM ME.
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