A Wedding Tomorrow
Saturday. A good night's sleep last night, a large cup of coffee down across the highway at a Starbucks where I also bought a copy of The New York Times to bring back and read at my sister's house early this morning, my “in Portland” morning routine firmly in place, the laptop on the kitchen table, the head feeling pretty good.
As an aside: my sister commented, when I first arrived, that the shape of my face had changed, it looked more as it did years ago before I'd had the jaw operation. I've had a number of people in the last few months, who haven't seen me in a while, comment I looked “more relaxed”, “younger”, “better”. Usually you nod your head and smile slightly, thinking: well, people say these things, nice of them to say them, but they really don't mean them, they're just being polite. Still, I've also wondered if there really has been a change - the number of comments have been unusual - and my sister's description of the area she feels has changed coincides with the area that's been giving me problems. So we'll see. Maybe the changes are wrapping up, maybe my perceived improvement is real. Maybe I'm just hopped up after this damned road trip. Here in Oregon.
We leave for Seattle to check into a Holiday Inn in Issaquah later this afternoon. The wedding and wedding party will be tomorrow evening so most of the guests have made reservations at the same Holiday Inn so we don't have to party and then drive. I suspect Issaquah will rest easier for that, what with the family's penchant for alcohol. Did I mention we're all ex-Scandinavians? Primarily from Iceland? Have you ever heard stories about Icelanders’ drinking? You haven't? I’ll bet you have.
The family will not be amused.
The family is always amused. Particularly after a party.
It's still morning. I have some pictures to shoot for my sister before we leave.
Issaquah. An easy drive, three hours to Seattle, plenty of time to go over current history, attitudes, relationships, diets, mothers, fathers, hallucinations, strategic errors, genetic misadventures and meds: the usual stuff between brothers and sisters who haven't seen one another for a while. We discovered most of the folks who were checked into the Holiday Inn were from the groom's side of the family, as most of them had to come in from out of state, his parents living in Connecticut, for example. A group of people talking to one side as my sister and I were checking in, overhearing the bride's name, realizing they were a part of the wedding party we'd be meeting pretty quick. Things seemed to be falling into place.
My sister and I had dinner at the Inn, a couple of glasses of wine for each of us, then to the gathering nearby out on the patio of a local restaurant, probably fifty-sixty people, most all of them, again, from the groom's side of the family, a hosted bar, back to the Inn early and to bed to watch some horrible movie on television before fading out. Why watch a horrible movie on TV? Because it's a motel room and if you're there alone that's what you do? Another routine? A strange bed? A wedding tomorrow.