As much as I wanted to get some things done at home, and be a crotchety little loner, I realized that my own need for intimate society paralleled that of the tone in my parents' pleas that I come over for a little dinner. Even though my brother is still at home, he is rarely there bodily, and even scarcer in attentiveness, as he is often mentally consumed by various outside undertakings even while physically present. As the passage of time (and the increase in my hunger) was inversely proportional to my desire to cook that mess of something I'd been meaning to cook, I conceded and drove to my parents' place for some chicken, roast apples, brown rice, and fellowship. Went home with every intention of going to sleep early, didn't fall asleep till 1:30. C'est la vie.
Woke up and went to the chiropractor's office for a physical therapy session, then headed to work. Work was happily busy, and afterward I posted some new things to my music blog before heading home to throw some things in a bag and commuting over to the Jeremys' house. There I met Jer Cooper and Mike Shaddle, and we packed up his raised Jeep Cherokee. After a bit of Chipotle and stopping for gas, we headed out. Conversation on the way up was good and deep. Jer and I postulated on being sin and righteousness, being Christian singles and preparing for eventual godly marriages, while Mike added observations from the perspective of a married peer. It was a good long conversation in which all three of us took turns, and it lasted us almost all the way up to Tahoe. We greeted some of the other guys who had already arrived for Jer Walker's bachelor weekend, including best man Josh Walker and Jer's UCD roommate Tim Ingrum. Stayed up watching Arrested Development Season One.
Later in the day we went to Fire+Ice for a perfect guy lunch: all-all-you-can-eat American food, cooked Mongolian barbecue-style. The group wandered about for a bit, myself hobbling like an old man, trying to find a place to buy a new game of Risk and some cigars.
We found the requisite tobacco but had no such luck with the Risk, instead opting to watch a matinee of Cop-Out after we were done being distracted by a parade. As much as I wanted to love a Tracy Morgan/Bruce Willis flic, it did not rise above the level of "generic guy movie" or "blatant Tracy Morgan antics vehicle" at any point, and most of us simply laughed at how bad the film was.
After the movies we went to some casinos, which were far less classy than I would have liked. For some reason I anticipated a crowd of nicely dressed, simpering moneyed sorts exchanging laughs and small-talk over sly gambler glances, amid the tinkle of champagne running over crystal. In general it just looked like a dark video arcade for grownups, with claustrophobic rooms, ugly, cheap, brightly colored carpet that crept up the walls to the ceilings, and dingy lights half-heartedly flashing everywhere.
A pack of tattooed, alcoholic d-bag types hung around with the occasional overly made-up woman. Cigarette staleness was everywhere. These women would probably have been more attractive in a different setting, with more becoming attire and less makeup, and a different outlook on life. But as is, they were instead instead quite unattractively beer-swooning and yelling at the big-screen UFC fighters. "BREAK'IZ AAAARM! BREAK HISZ ARRMMMmmm. Awww," they'd fade, going into a dissatisfied murmur of disappointment when sportsmanship was not in fact thrown to the wind in this particular televised match.
We spent an hour or so pumping quarters into a machine that makes plastic horses rattle awkwardly around a fuzzy miniature racetrack, while grossly cleavage-burdened, tired-looking women brought us cheap beers. After watching Jer Walker quietly turn $30 into $60 at the blackjack table, we exited, all underwhelmed, and drove back to the cabin, exhausted. Over pizza we watched The Hangover, during which hilarity I fell soundly asleep without realizing I was doing so.
Woke nine-ish, had a little quiet time in 2 Samuel, since we'll be studying that this coming Saturday. Jer Walker did too, so we chatted a bit about how remarkable these stories were, at the beginning of David's reign, when he finally had the power to demand that they bring his wife back to him, who had been given away to another man, and how that man followed her all the way back weeping for her. Who does one pity? Both men had been wronged perhaps. I wonder that so little is said about her own feelings in the matter.
After another waffle-coffee breakfast, those of us who had fallen asleep finished the movie, and then cleaned the cabin. Cleaning the cabin was much more rewarding than finishing the movie, which was really only funny in flashes. But the cabin soon looked orderly and grateful, and shone a bit in the spring mid-morning. I cleaned the musty 70's bathroom, shaking out brown and yellow shag rugs that clearly had never been disturbed at any time in the last two decades. We packed and left, the Jeremys, Josh, and Mike for the slopes, and the rest of us home to our various responsibilities.
Tim, Karl Albright, Jay Adams, Robert Brown and I rode back together, chatting about various theological and political subjects of interest, and also concerning the mysterious, nuanced motivations behind the decision of some elderly to sell all in favor of RV living. Robert asked a good deal of questions about my own home church at Grace, which as usual I found hard to describe without sounding negative. But I think I succeeded in communicating some of the personality and ministry dilemmas without criminalizing anyone, which was a relief. It's especially hard to try to answer questions about why Beck and the other elder left recently, because I really don't know for sure. I only have guesses, and the truth is probably a good deal less dramatic than some curious types would probably like.
On arriving home I showered all the weekend away, nursing my sore muscles and blistered feet, and prepared for worship practice, which went relatively well again. Looks like we'll be ready for Summit, but I'll get more organized yet.
Sunday 21
Late Saturday night and back pain were enough excuse for my body to sleep through the alarm. Was mildly frustrated at not having gone to church. Spent a good part of the afternoon enjoying the sun and working in the yard. My war against the crab grass and weeds wages on, but in general things look a good deal better and less winter-scraggly now, which is rewarding.
The neighbor Michelle told me, very kindly, that I might get a traffic ticket if I park the wrong direction by the sidewalk in front of my house. However draconian the regulation, I am happy she told me.
Evening worship (Martha and the Chores) practice went generally well. Beth "Keybeth" Drew found she enjoys helping lead songs with a mic, so I think I will switch to keyboard on several songs this year. It has been a long time since I tickled the ivories much and I am happy for the chance to pretend at versatility.
Mild excitement at the office over the news my boss has a broken collarbone. Seems he will be out for a couple of days. Very unexpected development.
After work and class I dropped by the hardware store as quickly as possible and got my ammunition: crab grass and weed killer. Arrived home well before dark, changed into my old jeans, ancient Patrick Henry College Soccer long-sleeve tee, destroyed, decade-old Chucks, and yellow rubber gloves. Slight setback in that my quality-concerned roommate Matt had bought a new awesome hose sprayer nozzle that nevertheless does not have a male threading on it, so I had to go dig up the landlord's old busted sprayer head and hook it to the hose and my bottle of mild herbicide. Having carpet bombed the whole lawn with my weaponry, I went to work tackling the next problem.
Peter had been over the night before and woke up the next morning sick as a dog. So I disinfected the door-handles and knobs, and the remote, and a few other things. After that I hit up ol' Trader Joe's, had some beans and rice and a Redpop and called it a day.
Tuesday 23
Went for physical therapy in the morning, worked, and went home to try to do a few things. Ended up letting Mom talk me into coming over for a family round of Ticket to Ride. Apparently Pete's feeling better.
Wednesday 24
Work, class. Got my exam back, marked 52 out of 50. Not bad.
Went home and met my neighbor/pal Ramsey Rhodes for coffee and discussions about God, among other things, which I think went well. Martha and the Chores and my roommates were meeting for burgers and then heading back to Preston & Ashley Langdon's house for dessert, but Ramsey and I talked for a long time, so I just met them for the second half. We bantered and laughed for hours till we glowed.
Friday 12.
Marooned. Drove across town to meet a fellow and look at the car he listed on Craigslist. Mike Alongi left me in his debt by driving across town from a different direction to give a second opinion. It was a maroon-colored 1993 Honda Accord four-door, two years newer than the one I had, with fewer miles. The owner listed it for $2500, which was a good amount for a high quality car of that age and mileage, so it was likely to be in pretty good shape. I was a little worried because the listing only showed one photograph of the passenger side of the car. It was also on the east side of town. I got there a bit before Mike or the owner did, and stepped out in the suburban drizzle to look at the car. As I walked toward it, I could see the passenger side, and it looked good. Toward the rear of the car, however, my heart began to sink. The back window had a Raiders sticker in the lower right-hand corner. I thought, well, I could scrape that off. But then I saw the blunt puncture damage below and to the left of the rear license plate in the trunk lid. Bad news. The trunk didn't seal properly. Looked like it had been badly repaired from a collision, and the listing had said it had a clean record! But then my mood changed entirely as I rounded the corner of the rear driver's side. All the doors and the fender on the left side of the car were black, and ill-fitting and dented. All the windows were rolled down... in the rain. I didn't bother to stay and wait for the owner, and I managed to intercept Mike before he got there, and take him out to lunch as a thank you for participating in my wild-goose chase. The owner of the car never called me to ask where I was. I think he must not have showed at all, or knew why I didn't show.
#RUBBERBANDFIGHT I tried to start a "rubberbandfight" hash on Twitter. Being that I am an amateur of the tweet, I think I should have put more thought into how such a thing might be accomplished. Almost no-one participated in shooting imaginary rubberbands at each other, which surprised me. I even tried to get Conan O'Brien's Twitter account to do it, but no. Most of my friends didn't jump in either. Only Quell returned fire. Note to self: two points for Quell.
As an unexpected positive externality to the failed rubberband fight on Twitter, a small rubberband skirmish broke out on my Facebook page, predictably, between people who had been at the wedding, including the Grove girls and Andrew's sister Sarah. Note to self: points for Lisa, Karena, and Sarah.
Saturday 13.
Saturday morning Bible study with the Fairhaven guys was canceled, so I stayed home and studied after the 6:00 AM fantasy baseball draft for my college chum Jeremy Purves' "Hitting the Bottle League." (I won the championship in 2008, but in 2010 I don't expect to even match the 3rd place ranking I achieved last year.)
Saturday night we caught up with the old "college group" crowd at Grace McCarthy and Katie Lanet's apartment. Trent couldn't come, which is just as well since Katie's new boyfriend Steven Pinheiro was there. But Peter came, as did Faith, and the girls' childhood friend Danni was there with her then-boyfriend, now-husband Sheldon, along with his pal Matt Ehlers. A good time was had goofing around with the newer guys, and overall it was a fun reunion and minimally awkward. Amid the highlights of the evening, such as our raucous rounds of Taboo, Matt and I discussed fantasy baseball and I agreed to sign on with his dynasty league. I think I will only be in two leagues this year.
Sunday 14.
Troubadour: Church, Churched, Was Churching, Have Churched, Had Churched, Will Church, Will Have Churched Helped Mike Alongi with worship music on Sunday. I was approached by a couple people afterward who said it sounded very nice, clearly with the added, emphatic, "you should come back next week." There was a very transparent concern among some of these folks, who are seasonal interns at our church and don't know all the history, that maybe I don't consistently come to church because there's something wrong. Who knows what they think? Backslider and without accountability? Maybe just a loner?
It makes me feel like their concerns are a little silly. I need God's grace like any other creation, but by that grace I persist, and am not less joyful or diligent for missing home-church fellowship occasionally. I tend to be there at church two Sundays a month, then out of town somewhere else one weekend a month, leaving the fourth Sunday of any given month to either help out in Oakland where my parents minister, sleep in and say heck with it, or visit somewhere else. Four weeks prior I slept in, and only went to the worship service, and had to leave promptly afterward. The next Sunday I was visiting friends in the East Bay and attended Fairhaven. Two weeks back I had attended the starved little Romanian church where my parents minister in Oakland, and helped with music. One week prior I was in Oregon, and now I was back home at Grace Bible Chapel.
An oddity about Grace is that if you don't go to the Breaking of Bread service at 9 O'Clock every week, people think you've left the church, and they feel bad, but they don't call to see what's up. They just give you quizzically concerned looks when you do inevitably reappear after your one- or two- (or in this case three-)week hiatus. The thing about that service is that it has changed. It used to be alive, but a lot of people have left, and it feels like a ritual, a formality. So I have not made it as much the priority as used to be my wont. I miss it, but thus far, attending the dead-wood versions of the last year-and-a-half hasn't brought it back yet.
Practice with Martha and the Chores, the current name of the ever-slightly changing lineup formerly known as the Summit Worship Band and the Fracehavenview Worship Band, was frustratingly bad. But practices have been so good most weeks, as we get ready for Summit and for John and Kaitlyn's June wedding, that one bad week will be okay. Tessa Devaul sent me a text afterward encouraging me not to worry that the practice was so frazzled, that it was okay and I'm doing a good job. Note to self: yeah you guessed it, 2 points for Tessa. The point, whether helping Mike, helping the Romanians, or practicing with the band, is to worship. In the end it's a mercy I didn't totally lose track of worshiping Him amid everything.
| WEEKEND SCOREBOARD | |
| Mike Alongi | 10 |
| Quell | 2 |
| Lisa Grove | 1 |
| Karena Grove | 1 |
| Sarah Keyarts | 1 |
| Tessa Devaul | 2 |
All the photos had been taken, and all the preparations made, including the mischievous ones, which we'd practiced over, to make sure we were ready. "Best Man" John, "No.2 Groomsman" Bryan, and I were dapper as rental money could afford, as was our charge, with his added "pocket square" which is what they call the silk kerchief you wear with a rental tux. I helped him make the square look right, though we were woefully without an iron. The result was still pleasing. Now, all weekend I had been seeing a side of Andrew I had not often seen before, and I wondered at it.
Andrew Holmquist
Andrew has always been as stubborn as a mule, though calm, and occasionally, explosively exuberant. His blond curly head has always been as hard as it was screwed on straight. And while he had the optimism and energy of a one-man industrial revolution, when appropriate he could also be as damp as a blanket in the rain. He wasn't the sort of fellow you'd consider remarkable or exceptionally good looking, but maybe that was due to the low profile he kept, the fact that he dressed like a man in his forties when he was in high school, and the acne he fought for years. Still he grew tall, was always fit and ruddy, and had a knack for craftsmanship of all kinds, from woodworking and metalshop to making jewelry. And he had quirks; for instance, he refused to wear shorts or sandals, and didn't like to ever go in the water, whether at the pool or in the ocean.
We grew up together. As children, no matter what I wanted to play at - the themes changed with regularity - he wanted to play railroad engineer. I mean he literally always wanted to play with his toy train set. That's an important point in understanding Andrew.
Flipways, I did not care about trains. There was something about them that caught my imagination, but not like Andrew. Andrew was dead-set on them. There was no other theme for play time. This of course made us a bit distant in our preferences if close in proximity and friendship. As we grew up, we had at times grown apart and back together again, my being a home-schooled boy who had something to prove to the world, his being perhaps the only kid to ever survive the public school culture completely untainted by the world. We became friends again in high school when I was the leader of our Boy Scout troop and he joined up. Those years were wonderful for all our friendships, Andrew's and mine being no exception. From constructive projects to combat with sticks and acorns, we were all a part of a team. We each took high school classes through the local community college, so we had some classes together, too.
In the summer of 2000, before I went away to college, I was convinced that every person needed to finish a BA or BS degree. Andrew and I had a job that summer painting a huge block of storage units, and I spent the whole time dogging him about finishing his education. Both our families were poor, his more than mine, and I was convinced his fixation on railroading had gone far enough, and would land him on welfare. In the end I am an office worker with a two-year degree and a four-year degree, a mixed skill-set, a jumbled résumé, and seeking direction. Andrew has now been settled as a railroad man in Oregon for five or six years, pays a mortgage, builds his own canoes, ukeleles, cabinetry, kitchen utensils, and anything else you can imagine, and is far and away more prepared to support himself than I am. He just always knew what he wanted, and while I was distracted by shiny worldly ambitions, he quietly grew into an impressive man. It still boggles my mind that anyone could know what they want to do with their life already at age three.
Of Husbandry and Lip Balm
But I had rarely seen him on-edge like this. The previous night I'd seen him vocalize some small disrespect to his weather-worn, soft-spoken patriarch. Mr. Holmquist has always been incorrigible with the puns, and I always thought Andrew had liked punny humor, but now his father's nervous punning was driving Andrew nuts, and he said so. Being groomsmen, it seemed appropriate we do something to keep our charge on track. Our way aiding Andrew in keeping his usually respectful, good-humored sunshine was by stopping to pray with him intermittently throughout Friday night and Saturday morning, starting with the Friday night frayed ends we started to see. He was grateful and responded well. I think we gathered to pray perhaps four or five times on Saturday morning, which seemed to leave a glow on everything from the simple dresses to the rubberbands we kept shooting at each other during the wedding photos. Andrew loves God, and loves people, especially his family. He was just frazzled because he was already engaged in careful husbandry, preparing his home for his bride's return post-honeymoon, attempting to keep the wedding humming like one of his well-maintained pieces of woodshop machinery. By praying, we kept him well-oiled. He was still nervous, but his lanky frame stood a little more confident, and his now-handsome, rugged features more at ease.
The one tick our groom continued to display was a fondness for his Burt's Bees chapstick. Saturday morning it seemed he couldn't get enough of it. He'd set it down and forget about it, then miss it and search around diligently for it, asking if we had seen it, apply some, then misplace it again. I thought it odd to worry so much about chapped lips, and tried to remember if he'd always been lip-focused before.
The Ceremony
Soon the guests were creaking in the pews, roaring softly their anticipation for the big day. The music started, simple piano. The grandparents and parents were ushered down the aisle. The sun shone through the winter windows on a clear-weather wedding day. Soon it was our turn to go. I (trying to keep my tux from looking bluged and lopsided) escorted the best friend of the bride. No one noticed the ill-fit of my treasure-laden rental tux. The second groomsman and Karena. John and Lisa. We all took our places and watched, with everyone else, as the music changed for Loree.
She looked positively angelic in her slender dress and streaming veil, neither of which I can describe properly, being that I am a gent, and have no knowledge of the requisite terminology. She wore her small glasses in the wedding, which I thought was cute and apropos to the practical beauty of their ceremony, and they gave her eyes an extra glint in the sunshine still warming the proceedings. Her carriage was direct, graceful and serene, her expression warm, not betraying the nerves she had assured us, in her brief way, that she would undoubtedly feel in front of so many people. She gave her promise ring back to her father, which he had given her when she was 14. The bronzed, flat-topped, tight-lipped fire captain's chin quivered a little, as he hugged his middle daughter away, and he nevertheless enthusiastically presented her to Andrew and vigorously shook his hand.
The preacher was decidedly cowboy, smelling of Barbasol and lumber, with a broad, Baldwinesque expression. His salt-and-pepper hair that bounded neatly back from his slightly beading forehead was pomaded in combed rows, and his open tuxedo collar and black boots bespoke a man who perhaps knew his way around the brush as well as he knew his way around the Bible. He beamed at Andrew and Loree emotionally, as though they were his own children. Perhaps in a sense they were. He then spoke about Jesus, explaining that the greatest marriage proposal ever had been given by Christ, to us, at Calvary. The vows were so beautifully self-effacing and simple, and when Loree said those words of commitment to my friend I lost all visual focus as my eyes swam in happiness that spilled down my face and into my stubble.
The preacher asked for the rings. Andrew feigned a befuddled response, felt rapidly through his coat and pants pockets and turned agitatedly to his best man. John was convincingly absent-minded as he patted himself down and turned to Bryan. Bryan, apparently at a loss in turn, looked at me, believably puzzled. I had already turned to look in my own right pocket, and when I turned back toward our audience I had on my face not only a confident expression, but also a pair of cheesy white aviator sunglasses. With an exaggerated, smarmy look at John, I unbuttoned my tuxedo jacket and swung wide a right lapel to reveal my wares, Andrew's carefully arranged assortment of junk jewelry and the two beautiful rings he and Loree had made for each other. John was so choked up and tear-glazed by the beauty of his cousin's wedding that as hard as he tried to keep up the charade and pick the right rings, he came away with Andrew's ring and a cheap crackerjack ring with an enormous fake diamond instead. Andrew came back to my coat and unpinned the two diamonds and two emeralds he had set in white gold for Loree, and the rings were exchanged. Their first act as a married couple was to take communion, a tradition of which I will never tire. After Andrew and Loree each tied their half of the true lovers knot, all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen pulled each end to make it firm.
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| Photos courtesy of Wikipedia |
It became clear to me then why Andrew had been so nervous with the lip balm; when the preacher told him to kiss his bride, it was for each of them their first kiss. Their faces had been close all morning, and both of them acquitted themselves of the task masterfully. The true lovers, Loree with her bouquet and Andrew with his coil of rope, and wedding party exited exuberantly to strains of "signed, sealed, delivered." After a lot of handshaking and becoming reaquainted with friendships that predated our births, we were ready to make our way to the reception in the town's refurbished antique fire engine, driven by the father of the bride.
The happy couple. That's the father of the bride in the driver's seat, and thats me in the back of the fire-truck, on the far left. Photo credit: Keri Herbert
The reception was great fun, complete with a seven-tier cake that Andrew's sisters had been up all night finishing, and a rubber-band fight in lieu of rice-throwing. We of the wedding party had done a thorough pranking of Andrew's vintage truck, including our tin cans, duct tape on the doors, and inscriptions of Andrew's characteristic idioms such as "This is sure going to be neat," and "She's a swell dish!" We pinned my lapel cloth, with all its odds and ends, on the bench seat in the cab. As a testimony to how fun both families are, the rubber-band fight persisted a full hour after the bride and groom were long gone.
The exiting bombardment. Peter and I hid ourselves in the truck bed in order to better pelt the couple with rubber bands. Photo credit: Keri Herbert
Our family enjoyed a nice dinner with the Spaliones, and then Peter and I went to meet up with the Grove girls and some of their cousins to play some games. We got to bed around 11:30 pm, tired to extreme satisfaction from a fun and emotional day.
Sunday, March 7
We got up at five, and Peter and I took turns driving back through the countrysides and McDonald's coffee stops on the way to Portland, while Dad and Mom read out loud from the Bible and (I think) Roy Hession in lieu of church. We also did some praying, and Dad jokingly reminded me not to close my eyes while driving. The flight was generally uneventful, apart from being filled with noisy Dairy Quiz competitors from Cal Poly. I suppose that's a hazard associated with flying out of Oregon. Soon we were at our respective homes, trying to get caught up on the hum-drum we had missed on our memorable weekend.
Friday, March 5
My parents and I met Peter at ACM aviation, where he works, and parked our cars there for the weekend. This has become traditional travel planning for members of our family; since Peter is the director of safety at ACM now and has been there in various capacities for the better part of the last ten years. We snagged a ride to the other side of SJC and eventually boarded our 8 AM Southwest flight to Portland, OR.
We arrived in Portland at about 10AM, picked up our Subaru rental car and headed east. Little did I know that by driving along the Hood River I was taking in views of both Oregon (on my right, including mountain goats) and Washington (on my left, over the river.) Little did I further know that in Oregon 65 MPH does not mean the same thing as it does in California. Before I had covered more than 50 miles of territory, I was stopped by a highway patrolman who promptly assessed me a fine in excess of $270. I had been traveling at about 75 MPH, but going downhill I had slowly edged my way up over 77, 78, and 79 till driving at about an 80 MPH clip. While I saw many vehicles traveling faster than this both before and after my ticket, I didn't see the cop waiting in the turnoff. Maybe that was all the difference. I was told by the locals, upon arriving in La Grande four or five hours later, that the Oregon authorities are quite strict about the speed limits. I was warned that even vehicles traveling as little as 68 MPH are often pulled-over and warned if not ticketed.
The first couple hours at Andrew's house in La Grande were spent building a stand for the wedding reception punch bowl, a huge, clear glass GE-brand steet-lamp cover. If you knew Andrew, you would know that this kind of industrial cleverness and sense of humor are just up his alley. Within minutes of my arrival I was in his impressive, industrially outfitted garage shop, using a belt-sander, drill-press and jigsaw to help him cut out the pieces. Dad correctly observed that it was a surprise to see me behind such equipment. But I felt surprisingly at home. Note to self: power tools = awesome.
After working for a while at Andrew's place, we cleaned up a little bit and went to the wedding rehearsal at the First Presbyterian Church (PCUSA) of La Grande. I am pretty sure Andrew would never go to a PCUSA church, but it was a nice old building and beautiful for a wedding. The hostess, Mary, was a delightful gal. The practice was also fun. Andrew had brought two lengths of rope, one for the groom, and one for the bride, which were to be tied together during the ceremony in a True Lovers' Knot. Andrew and Loree (Ms. Grove, his fiancé) each tied one half of the knot, then everyone in the wedding party was to pull on it to tighten it fast. The practice went well, and I enjoyed meeting the other members of the party, especially Loree's sisters Lisa and Karena. They were definitely fun.
After the rehearsal, while the rest of my family continued being good guests at our host-home, I went with Andrew and his best man (a cousin of his, and old friend of ours) John Herbert, to a dinner for the wedding party at someone's house whose name has become lost on me, but who was absolutely wonderful. Note to self: you really need to work on your problem with remembering people's names. It makes them feel they'r unimportant. The time spent with the Holmquists and Herberts and Groves was a real delight, hearing different stories of how the perfect couple had met and meshed.
That evening Peter and John, Joshua Herbert and I followed Lisa and Karena over to their house, which was quite quaint and had a linoleum floor decorated with 50's-style multicolored starbursts on a shimmery background. It was enough to do the Big Lebowski's bowling alley proud. We spent an hour or so chatting, while taking turns using a hammer and awl to punch holes in tin cans, then tying them onto yellow nylon rope.
Saturday, March 6
Saturday Morning I got up and had some quiet time before 8:30 AM, when Andrew was supposed to pick me up. I also had a little time for coffee and chatting with our enchanting host and hostess, Johnny and Rosie Spalione. Andrew was all ready to run when he arrived a bit late, and I saw John was already waiting on the bench of Andrew's ancient yellow Chevy pickup when we bustled out into the morning chill.
We proceeded to the church, where various concerns kept us busy, particularly dressing ourselves in the tuxes we hoped were the right size. They were ordered from a place in Visalia, CA, so if they didn't fit right, we were out of luck. As fate would have it, everything fit except the lengths of the trousers, which were a bit long for the other fellows and a bit short on mine. Still by the time the photographer was ready, so were we, yellow ties and waistcoats intact. The ladies looked pleasing in their green dresses with lemon sashes. I was told later that Andrew had chosen all of the colors and accoutrement, presumably having already consulted with the bride concerning her preferences. The photo shoot was good, though the photographer had a bad habit of getting us smiling then sitting and waiting for the smiles to stiffen before actually clicking the shutter. Still, he had a good way of getting us to keep smiling long after our smilers were tired, and that has to count for something
Then came the pre-wedding mischief. Andrew had a plan. I was to have a green piece of fabric pinned inside my tuxedo jacket, with various pocketwatches, rings, and other oddities pinned to it. I also needed sunglasses. Being that I was the third in line out of three groomsmen, I wasn't immediately sure what in the world he could have planned for me. But when he told me the plan I agreed it was a good one.
...to be continued...
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Over the first weekend of April we saw this movie called Stop Loss, which was pretty much depressing. Went with Aundrea, Katie, Bethany, Chris and Peter. Katie wanted to see it because she thought it was going to be a chick flick. After all, it had a bunch of boy-toy non-actors in it, like Channing Tatum and Ryan Philippe. But in the end it just made Bethany scared that David's going to get stop-lossed once he's deployed. Note to Self: No more war movies with significant others or members of the military. I felt bad, it really messed with her head. It's gotta suck being a military spouse.
Thursday, March 20th, I went to class in the morning, dressed up in my slacks, the dress shoes I bought in that little shop in Rome, and my skinny sweater and tie. I was faux-interviewing for class. I showed my "tree" graphic design piece. Will get the video this Thursday. Then I ran some errands and met Grace for lunch at Pizza My Heart. Went to class and had class break snack for the last time with my classmates. Went home, tried to watch Farewell to Arms (Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes) but found it generally a butchering of Hemingway and went to do my homework, mid-film, before going to bed. Luckily the poster is pretty cool, and doesn't try to make Hayes look pretty.Friday, March 21st, I worked, but I was worried about homework, so I left a little early. Went home and worked on some homework but had to clean up and go to Bible study before long. Came home from there and worked on homework late into the night.
Saturday, March 22nd, I got up and mowed the lawn, then worked on homework for a couple hours. Went over to the church to practice for Easter Service music, only to find out from Mike that the practice had been canceled. Went home for a couple more hours of homework, then drove over the hill to Seabright Beach in Santa Cruz for Silvanus' super-tame bachelor party. The lamest part of the party was the attempted Silvanus roast, because everyone knows there's nothing about Sil to roast. Overall it was a good gathering. Came back by 9 and worked on homework.
Easter Sunday was a sleepy morning. Went to church at 8:30 to help set up tables and chairs outside for the impending wedding reception, then went into church and half-worshipped, half-dozed. Note to self: even if it's awesome and amazing that I can pay attention even while fading in and out of consciousness, I probably shouldn't do it. Went home and napped. Went to Sil and Sarah Grace's wedding, enjoyed it more than I thought I was going to. One of the bridesmaids was drop-dead gorgeous and by all accounts a godly young woman, so I sent my little brother toodling over there as soon as the reception was underway, post-haste. He couldn't break the ice, which means her ice is amazingly thick. After, Octavia, Daniel, Bethany, David, Trent, Peter, Chris, Mike Abraham, Katie, Jenny and I went to BJ's for drinks and appetizers. We had a kumbaya sort of mushy talk where we all told each other how much we appreciate each other. Then went home.
Today, 8/19/2008, I just worked. Going home to do homework soon. And I pretty much don't have time to do anything else.
Sunday 3/16/08 was boring. Got to church late-ish, didn't socialize much after. Went to Starbucks because I needed some alone time with God, but saw Katie I. there, which resulted in one of those long catching-up conversations. Still managed to have a good quiet time but I didn't get much done in the evening.
Monday 3/17/08 I worked all day. Productive day. Also payday. In the bank parking lot, an Italian man tried to get me to buy 4 Gucci leather jackets for the price of one at half-off. Luckily I am not stupid and I just ignored him. I went to Rasputin because I couldn't find this album anywhere online:
I also thumbed through the bargain bins (50c - $2.95) and came up with some pretty good stuff. I always have to choose. Either way, I definitely checked some things off my want list without dropping much coin.
They put me at ease for the most part and most of the review went smoothly, except it felt pressed for time and the discussions about politics were a bit awkward. But then, political discussions usually are; thus the career shift into something I actually love doing! Marisa, the Director of Marketing, also graciously introduced me to a gentleman who needs graphic design work done for a CD cover, but I doubt he'll actually contact me about it. Note to self: get some business cards, pronto. Worked on my paintings for the rest of the afternoon and then in color class studio. Still wasn't done at 5:30 for class discussion; the legato piece was done but the staccato and crescendo were both still partially painted.
Wednesday I worked. More mediation prep. The printer wasn't working by the end of the day. Needed more ink, we didn't have any. Seems like it's always the photo cyan that goes first. I will say this. The HP Photosmart 3200 printer is worlds below the Canon Pixma iP6600D. There is no comparison, even as a backup printer. I just couldn't publish my work on the HP, period. Went home late from work because of the printing problems, having not even finished.
Yesterday I had no classes. By a freak coincidence, both classes happened to be out. I spent the morning remedying the printing problems at work, and then spent the afternoon in Mountain View. I was on my way to the Community School of Music and Arts, but stopped at BevMo to see if they have my illusive favorite scotch whiskey. Why? Because in January when I needed scotch I couldn't find any Sheep Dip. Turns out they have it at BevMo, regularly stocked. So I know where to find it next time. Google maps ran me into a dead end about two blocks from where I should have been, and I had a helluva time trying to find the right road to the CSMA. I finally got there, and I folded my hands behind my back as I perused their small museum, then asked for help from the front desk. One of their resident visual artists, Kyle, gave me a tour and explained the organization's functions and purpose. An amiable sort of chap, he led me around their small but impressive facility and showed me their art studios, classrooms and private lessons rooms, and concert hall. I learned a lot about their mission and should have more than enough for the "today's working artist" group project I need it for. It should also double nicely as an extra-credit museum paper for my color class.
He's thinking about engagement rings. I then spoke with Megan on the phone, which was flipping awesome though cut short, and then Leah, which might have been more awesome if it had been cut short. 'Sall good, sometimes I open my mouth and put my foot in it. I had planned to do homework, but I didn't get much done. I so often don't when I want to, then do when I need to and can't afford not to anymore. Not the best pattern. Went home to clean a little. Spring cleaning is the thing. Then I went to see 10,000 B.C. with Grace, Jared, Jean, Jenny & Jessica. That movie was so incredibly crappy, but had a fun cheese factor. Came back home, did nothing. Ennui! Went to bed.
Monday - So Sunday night I stayed up late working on a 5-page paper draft, on the topic of the overarching history of poster art, that I thought was due Thursday. Because I thought it was due Thursday, I also spent some of the evening being social, but in retrospect I would have been better off asleep by midnight instead of ridiculous lateness, because I still had to get up in the morning and go to work. Called Grandma on the way to work, to tell her about the job interview on Friday. Work was normal, and I was generally awake and functional, so no harm done. Went home, then realized the five pages were due Tuesday, not Thursday, and tried to work on my paper, really couldn't get a good momentum going until after midnight.
Tuesday - On no sleep, I managed to finish the five-page paper on poster art history. I tied 16th century Japanese Ukiyo-e polychromatic prints through to Jason Munn, so I feel pretty happy with the historical breadth of the five pages, but considering they had to be double spaced, the depth wasn't what I would want.
Wednesday - I woke up to an "I'm bummed" text from a friend, couldn't think of anything to say really, realized I hadn't really been spending time in scripture lately. Did a little of that. Work day again, slow and a little sloppy. Can't have much more of that or it'll catch up with me. Heard back from the department where I interviewed, accepted an invitation for a second interview next Tuesday. It's tougher this time since I am to "bring anything I want to show," which probably means I need to have better reasons for the fewer pieces I select. Director of Marketing. Gotta impress! Midnight found me still working on homework, a handout for "Today's Working Artist" class, on the topics of the MFA degree as a pyramid scheme, by Karen Kitchel (excellent article), and another on democratic education by bell hooks (which wasn't so compelling, actually.)
Sunday, February 24, 2008 - Went to church at 9 as usual, but a little more dressed up. Lectured and led discussion from 10-11, on the topic of temptation, like I mentioned before. See the last post for my notes. We couldn't find any chalk, so Ajay went and found a thick stub of blue sidewalk chalk, and I scrawled on the blackboard with that. The result was quite messy, but I think the lecture went over pretty well.
After the preaching service the same old crowd, along with Bethany's visiting friend Aundrea the ballet dancer, went to lunch at Eric's Deli Café and chatted it up for a couple hours. I then went home and tried to work on my solo project that would be due on the 26th. Not making much progress, I decided to go over to the office and work there. My idea for the concept was based on Hannah's new blog; I was thinking that of all my friends an Art Nouveau (which was the style I wanted to try) would best fit her style. She encouraged me to look through her pics on Facebook, of which there are thousands.
I didn't get far that night. Which was bad. It was a bad night in general and I stayed up late when I should have just gone to bed. I also had to work on a paper on the Chagoya exhibition, but I didn't do much on that either.
Monday, February 25, 2008 - I was all of a panic. I was on low sleep and would have to work all day then stay up all night finishing the solo project that I had NOT been able to design on the computer and didn't know how to paint. I mean, I literally don't know how to paint. But God's good: I went to the office all dressed in a tie and all for work, only to find that the boss was out and there was nothing to do. I puttered on a few details for an hour, then left for home and homework. I drew and painted all day and all night.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008 - I hadn't blown it. I had finished it beautifully, by taking my design from the computer, printing it out, tracing it over graphite paper onto foam board, then painting over the outlines. The painting was daunting but the colors were so shocking as to make the creative process a joy even at four in the morning. The following is a lousy phone picture of the final product.
The solo project was well-enough received by my classmates and prof to be considered a moderate success. I got my midterm grade, basically just a progress report from the professor to let us know how we're doing at this juncture. Mine was 100%. I went to Saltworks, a college outreach put out by our sister church, Hillview Bible Chapel. It was good, as we were talking about John 3-4. Talked with this middle-aged black musician named Eric who wants to try to connect with me about doing some kind of music project together. We'll see if anything comes of that. I went back home after study, to work on my painting for my afternoon class, because even though I had missed it last week while vomiting, I was told the project and accompanying one-page paper were due. So I missed the guest speaker who was on campus talking about political cartooning, and did homework until I was so late for class that I had to find my prof in his other class during the next time period just to get it in to him on time. He gave me a quizzical look and told me it wasn't due till Thursday. I went home and crashed.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008 - I worked all day, then worked on homework for a while, went to Katie's house and watched Eragon, which despite the presences of John Malkovitch, Jeremy Irons, Djimon Hounsou and a cute chick was pretty much uber-lame. Went home and finished my one-page Chagoya critique paper.
Thursday, February 28, 2008 - Read something that made me really sick to my stomach. Bad emotional dayl. Morning class was fine. Got a handout from my professor that was due today but I had never gotten it because it was handed out the day I was sick. Told him I'd finish it and email it to him in the evening. Went to work for an hour and a half. Then went to Color & Design class and turned in the same assignment again. Got that and the previous assignments/papers back by the end of the class; both were A's. Went home, feeling down, pulled together a pile of artwork examples for my interview the next day. Went to Kinkos to get some things printed in color, but they didn't look that hot, so I wondered if it had been worth the time. Got a little road rage, knew it had nothing to do with the guy stealing my parking space. Prayed a lot, went home, crashed.
Friday, February 29, 2008 - Worked all morning, part of the afternoon. Needed to buy myself lunch and get some portfolio folders for my work, but realized I'd left my wallet at home. Drove home at 90 mph and back, still took forever on my lunch break. Boss was gone when I got back, so I printed out some more things to show in my interview, and put things in order. Met with Lori, the head of Graphic Design for the De Anza College Marketing Department, to show her my work and interview for a part-time job. Interview went well, was fun seemed very promising as a career step. Went to pick up Robert to take him to Bible study. Went home, fell asleep for a bit. Got an unexpected call from Ali, which was a good sort of call and left me in a much better mood than the one in which I had been. Went to Bible study, which was on the topic of patience and gentleness, among other things, as well as preserving the bond of unity among believers. All that was good. Got to play a banjo for a while, worked out a couple of Avett Brothers tunes, or at least the skeletons of them. Went home, talked to Brian in my car till 1:30 AM. Went to bed in a generally good mood, thanked God for a good week. Couldn't sleep for a while, so I just kept thanking Him.
Saturday, March 1, 2008 - Woke up mercifully late. Talked with my parents good-naturedly for a while about this and that, in my pajamas. Changed and mowed the lawns. Got green stuff all over my hands and my brown boot-cut cords. Went to get coffee and run some errands. Decided to do my devotions with my coffee at 'Bux. Buccino came in with Jake Galleau, and we talked about blazing and boy scouts while drinking Tony's concoctions of iced tea and Red Bull. Gave them a ride back to the Buccino residence and visited with their family a bit. Watched Tony sand some boards, then gave him my burned copy of this album:
...because I was pretty sure he'd dig it. Came home and researched building bookshelves and closet shelving, pretty much wasted the evening instead of doing homework.
