Eastward, Ho!

As promised, one last July blog! I just hope you weren't expecting anything spectacular.
In a few hours, subsequent to Shelly finishing her take-home exam, the two of us will hit the road for the Outer Banks. There, we'll join up with my family for a week of fun, sun, and relaxation, so long as we steer clear of the six extant, slavering children. Don't worry, you'll be treated to tales, yearns, and sea stories on my return, along with a photo or two.
Also of note, I've sent Justin the balance of my Brad wedding pictures, which you can view on his site. I've done this despite the unremitting trash talk on my comment board regarding his site by someone who shall remain nameless. (If you really want this mischievous person's name, just look at some of the recent comments. Or, heck, just go here!)
Other than that, be good this week, and think of me often as you work by the sweat of your brow to make a living!

Ahhh...

That's what I was saying all weekend, as Shelly and I relaxed and reflected in luxury at the Carolina Inn and Spa at Pinehurst!
Shelly left me to my own devices Friday night, having been asked to come down spouse-less for the first day. Apparently, her and the associates had quite the time down there, though advocate/client confidentiality precludes her from telling me exactly what went on.
Saturday morning, after a trip to Jiffy Lube to get the car inspected (it passed!), I followed in my wife's footsteps south on 751, then route 1, then 15/501, until I reached the fabled city of Pinehurst.
Having been told in only in very general terms where I was going (Shelly had given me detailed instructions, such as "Its the...hotel and spa! I forget the name!" and "You can see it from the road!"), I of course took a wrong turn immediately upon breaching Pinehurst's city limits. Backtracking, I found the abundant foliage (of which, in accord with the name, pines were a significant portion) soothing, despite my lack of clear direction, although the beautiful, cloudless skies and balmy temperatures probably also contributed. Having no real idea of where I was going, I gripped the steering wheel and resolved to simply drive around until I found it. And for the first time since Henry Ford cranked out the Model-T, this approach actually worked! Somebody call Guinness!
After checking in at the front desk, I shuffled up to my second-floor room, my gait hindered the enormous over-night bag slung over my shoulder. Finding it empty (Shelly not having returned from her morning meetings), I hid my stuff in the closet and decided to surprise her. I didn't have long to wait; upon hearing her in the hall, I shut the closet door, remembering in a nick of time to set my phone on vibrate. That proved vital. Once she entered, Shelly let out a disappointed sigh at my continued absence and immediately called me. The closet door must have some sound-proofing installed, because I carried on an abbreviated conversation with her before jumping out, to her delight.
Having about an hour to kill, we moseyed over the the spa. Our appointment was not until 2, requiring us to check in at 1:30 PM, but we arrived an hour early. Have you ever had a locker room attendant show you around, making sure you know the location of everything from the herbal refreshment stand to the bathing suit water extractor? Try it sometime. Not having eaten, Shelly and I ordered lunch and ate it by the pool (courtesy of Shelly's firm), but afterwards I decided to sit a spell in the sauna, and then the hot tub. After severely losing track of time, I showered and put on my complimentary terry-clothe robe and joined Shelly in the co-ed area mere moments before the masseuses' called us.
What can one really say about a 50-minute massage?? Later, Shelly gigglingly told other female coworkers that I kept making 'noises', which in further retellings, was exaggerated to 'moaning'. Soothing music, darkened room, scented candles, skin-soothing lotions, magic hands attached to hot, young females (uh...scratch that last ;) )- what can mere words do to relay the experience?? Afterwards, I practically had to be removed by wheelbarrow to the 'recuperation room', where Shelly and I sat side by side in two criminally comfortable lounge chairs, sipping some fruity tangerine/orange drink and staring, dazed, out a picture window at the nearby forest. I'd probably still be there if...well, to tell you the truth, I don't remember why we left.
Anyway, we had dinner later with the rest of the firm, then went to our king-sized bed for the night. Sunday morning it was back to reality, but even the hour twenty drive home was somehow soothing.
In other, none-spa related news, most of the geese left the lake last week. I know everyone's disappointed that I'll now be unable to mention them in the blog every week. Seventeen are still there. I was a little sad to see that Bruce had moved on, but he and some others flew back in last night for an encore appearance. They'll all probably be flying out again soon- even the goslings are fully fledged and flying now. If you see a Canada goose grazing in a field or at a lake somewhere, and notice that he has a red spiral band around his left leg, tell ol' Bruce we miss him and that he has a sure meal here whenever he decides to come back.
Alright everyone. That's all for tonight. I'll try to post again before I hit the beach this next week, so hope everyone stays safe until then.

Epic Journey (Part II)

(Also featuring: You Can't Be Serious and For God's Sake, I'll Email You the Pictures!)

The Reception (continued)

I forgot to mention that Tiffany (featured briefly in the previous installment of The Reception) owns a certain type of dog, the best of breed, the most ridiculous of rare: the Italian Greyhound (or miniature greyhound for all those without a neurotic attachment to them)! Her greyhound, Bella, apparently adopted the "void bladder when mad" trick from her elder, Sonny. This is especially note-worthy because the two dogs have never actually met!

OK, well, I just thought I'd throw that in, to the one person who was interested.

Anyway, the evening began winding down around 9 pm, incidentally when the bar started charging $5 a drink (no correlation there, no-siree-bob). You couldn't have told that from the dance floor, though, as we all picked that hour to really shake things up. It all culminated when Shelly, frustrated by the subtly of such songs as "Baby Got Back", strode over to the DJ and requested "something Ghet-TO...Booty SHAKIN' ". The DJ, apparently not one to turn down a challenge, responded with Lil Jon. Everyone was happy.

Here's a representative pic, featuring Justin, workin' his usual magic:

Sometimes it just pays to be a groomsmen...

After that, of which, mercifully, I have no further pictures, the lot of us trudged back to the hotel, conveniently located right across the parking lot (or did I already mention that last time?). Bridesmaid plans of continuing the party at Seacrets fizzled as realization set in that not one of the wedding party was in any shape to operate a tricycle, let alone a vehicle equipped with an internal combustion engine.

And just in case you're thinking not one wholesome guest attended that reception, look who showed up to grace the fountains outside!

The Never-Ending Drive

The next morning I awoke, disoriented and chilled, in the sub-zero hotel room. Staggering to the window, I found the A/C dial set on a healthy, normal room temperature, provided you're a corpse awaiting identification by next of kin. 55°, people! Shelly will doubtless inform you that I insisted on keeping it at the lowest possible setting, but at no point was I informed what exactly that setting entailed!

Finally getting my own newly-wed bride ready by 9:30, I eagerly put in a call to Jen, hoping to meet up for a quick continental breakfast in the hotel café. This turned out to be non-viable, considering Jen and Tim had almost made it to the Bay Bridge by then. Hopes dashed, I skulked to the car alone and began loading luggage, wondering where exactly all last evening's participants were, of which I'd seen one only briefly. Along the way, though, I did get this picture of the Fountain Center, where the previous night's activities had taken place.

Fortunately, Barbour, gazing out a third story window, saw me loading the car, and tapped innocuously on the glass, attracting my attention. Over-joyed that we had not been abandoned in Salisbury, Shelly and I mounted the stairs to watch the morning festivities, as Kip, Justin, and Jeff attempted with mixed success to reconstitute their tuxedos and zip them up in the accompanying bags. Amused, I tried to take a picture, only to be informed how incredibly 'messed up' that was. Now the world will be poorer for having lost that moment.

Facing reality, Shelly and I completed our packing and commenced our drive, realizing it was going to be an all day event. And we weren't disappointed. We left Salisbury around 11am, spent two hours traveling down 13 South before reaching the ten mile bridge/tunnel that connects to Norfolk. The ride was uneventful, aside from almost getting killed by slamming at 65 mph into some idiot who thought they could wait at a two-foot wide median with their rear hanging into the south-bound lanes. Their children will likely bear the wrath of my curses for three generations. Even more maddening were the constant little towns we passed through, replete with lights and low speed limits.

Finally gaining Norfolk shortly after one, we navigated the interlocking maze of highways without incident, with the exception of the guy who flipped us off because we wouldn't slow down to allow him into our lane with a whole half car-length to spare. I jubilantly returned the gesture with an additional hand to boot.

The good news came with Highway 58, running west across the southern end of VA. Expecting lots of little towns again, I was pleasantly surprised to find it straight and speedy. Rejecting the Mapquest advice to take this to I-95 South, we sped past the Interstate, making for I-85 (because, as Shelly wisely said "You never know what'll happen on 95").

Usually, that's very true, but not for us, not that day. No sooner did we turn on I-85 south, a mere hour away from home, then did we come to a stop for 45 minutes. In one of those rare displays of random conglomerations, people began leaving their cars, wandering around, playing catch, and spreading rumors. In a case of the latter, a middle aged woman from the car in front of us came back, spreading doom and gloom, saying she'd heard the accident involved a tractor trailer and a van, and that it could take a 'long time' before we move. Glancing to my right, I informed her "it's moving now". Shelly and I snickered knowingly as she scrambled back to her vehicle.

We arrived around 6:20 pm. And seldom have I been happier to be home.

For God's Sake, I'll Email You the Pictures!

After two comments on my previous post, and a follow-up email message explaining how exactly to go about doing it, I'm getting the feeling that, maybe, Justin wants me to upload my pictures to his site. :) But not tonight, by golly- you'll have to wait another day or two!

You Can't be Serious!

You think you know someone. This person doesn't have the Internet and has never shown much interest in computers. Neither does he ever mention to you that he has a MySpace page. In fact, when another friend informs you of that he does, you scoff and wonder just how many she might have had before writing that email. "She's inhaled too much animal dander, sleeping with that dog Josie in her room!" you might even say. But you'd be wrong!

Scott Sudnick, my cousin, carpet man extraordinaire, really does have a MySpace page!

Alright, goodnight everyone! Tomorrow, Shelly goes to Pinehurst with her law firm buddies, with me following Saturday. Can you say "couples' massage"? And then, just one more week before the Outer Banks!!

AN EPIC JOURNEY (part I)

The Flight

Friday night, shortly after posting, Jason picked up Shelly and I, carrying us swiftly to RDU airport. Possessing only one small bag apiece, and with internet-printed tickets in hand, we by-passed the check-in counter and proceeded through security. This went without a hitch, aside from Shelly's brief assertion that she was carrying 'poison' when asked by security if she had a 'porcelain' picture frame in her bag.

Our flight left on time, at 9:50 pm, and we arrived at BWI an hour later. Dad and Mom both braved the horrendous crowds, stupendous traffic, and late hour to pick us up from the downstairs terminal. Following a brief but nostalgic ride home, Shelly and I retired to the guest room and went to bed, exhausted from the full day.

The Wedding

I awoke at what I assumed was high noon, considering the amount of light streaming in the east-facing window. A quick consultation with my cell phone told otherwise: merely 6:30 am. Exasperated, I attempted to fall back asleep, succeeding only marginally. Shelly, coherent enough only to utter a few syllables in complaint of the heat, rested uneasily for an additional two hours.

Finally surrendering to the inevitable around 8:30, I rose and went outside, finding Dad hard at work, having already washed my new car cleaned it up. See, two years ago, Mom had an accident with her Buick, resulting in the insurance company totaling the car. Crafty, clever Dad, realizing their estimates built in the insane, dizzying prices that a body shop would charge, got replacement parts from a junk yard and repaired the damage, while Mom's received a newer model as a replacement. Having no need of the repaired original themselves, however, they bequeathed it to Shelly and I. Thus the reason we traveled up by plane.

Anyway, we put on the new, NC plate, and I began to load it up with our luggage. Jen and Tim, also invitees of Brad, showed up around eleven, and the four of us headed off in separate cars. Here's a picture of that momentous moment:

Stopping briefly to get gas in good old Millersville, the sight of one erstwhile school and job for me, about which enough could be written to fill ten blogs such as this one, we headed down 97 south towards the Bay Bridge. But not before visiting mi madre at her workplace of Hallmark! They had their big ornament sale Saturday, so the mentally deranged, anticipating Christmas, could come in and by hundreds of dollars worth! No, not kidding! Here's a pic to prove it!

One bridge, two stops, three hours, numerous traffic jams, and one hundred-odd miles later, the four of arrived at the Country Inn and Suites in Salisbury. Finding ourselves with exactly thirty minutes to spare, we checked in to our rooms (we had 102 on the first floor, but Jen and Tim somehow scored one with a hot tub!), hurriedly dressed, then met up in the parking lot to travel to the church. The hotel was really, really nice, kind of off in its own little field alongside the road.

Tim knew his way around Salisbury, having spent some time there at Brad's various parties, so I drove and he directed me through the downtown area to the church. We arrived with a few moments to spare, and so entered and were seated by none other than Kip, an old friend of mine I had not seen since my own wedding almost a year ago. The rest of the groomsmen were nowhere in evidence at that moment, but I did see several other familiar faces, such as Rachael and husband Mike Czyzia, Melinda (Brad's sister) and her husband Carlin, who I met for the first time, and everyone's favorite Bachelor party planner, Chris Barbour, whom we ran into in front of the church, cigarette in hand as always, though he attempted to hide it in this picture with Tim. You ain't foolin' no one, Barbour!

The wedding was beautiful- the church, the music, the singing. Kristen was a lovely bride, though the one picture I got of her at the ceremony turned out hopelessly blurred, and Jen has yet to accede to my request to email me the one Tim took (hint, hint). Here's one of Brad, though, with his groomsmen, anxiously awaiting the pending arrival of Ms. Hatfield. She showed up, but I guess I kind of gave that away at the beginning of this paragraph.

So, that moves us on to...

The Reception

Two words: Open Bar. And my friends took full advantage! Shelly and I found ourselves seated as far towards the periphery as possible without being actually outside in the heat! We were imfamous table 4, which had only two other occupants: Eric and Tiffany Cohen. Eric was a college roommate of Jeff, and in turn befriended Brad, but I hadn't seen him in years and certainly didn't know he had gotten married. We hit it off with them right away, exchanging stories of where our lives had gone since then and what we were doing. Shelly and Tiffany also bonded, largely in their agreement that children should be in their future, so long as they're far in the future...

Just cuz I can't think of a better place to put it, here's a picture of Shelly and I, circa the same time.

After being fed, listening to Jeff and the Maid of Honor give toasts, watching Brad and Kristen cut up the dance floor, and heading outside in a never-ending stream of sessions to converse with people during smoke breaks, I finally got a good shot of the bride and groom...

...and a slightly less flattering shot of the two best men!

And would the evening have been complete without Barbour being up to his usual? Catching the garter and licking ice sculptures?

Well, everyone, I wanted to do it all in one post, but you'll have to tune in tomorrow for the exciting conclusion to the story! Shelly demands attention, which I think is only fair considering that I've been working on this for two hours now!!!

Bitter-Sweet Vindication

I received a call from an old coworker last night, pretty much the only person at my last job that I remain on speaking terms with. Guess what? Shelly's long-ago prophecy has apparently come to pass.
Effective July 31st, the Garner, NC branch of Signature Special Events will close its doors forever. This is due largely to its inability to operate in a profitable manner, always a death-knell in a for-profit business. I'm entertaining the idea of sending this as a present to my former tormenters there. Thoughts??
Unfortunately, all the people who truly deserved to be left starving in the streets (I'm really trying to be a better Christian these days, but I stumble every time on "Love thy enemies") are having things worked out for them, and the good, hard-working, put-upon people are the ones left holding the bag. Thus, the 'bitter' aspect of the post title.
Oh, well, there's still the 'sweet vindication' part. The GM, who faulted my loyalty when I left, bailed a month ago, obviously not ascribing to the whole 'captain goes down with the ship' philosophy. Also, the whole 'you had a bright future here and were on the verge of making serious money' canard would have apparently translated to 'great big welfare check'.
So, in closing, I guess its not my prayed-for 'divinely-guided meteor strike', but I suppose I'll sleep a little better at night with this small evidence of cosmic justice at work in the world.

Northward Bound

Just a quick note to let everyone know that Shelly and I are about to embark on our flight to MD, assuming Jason picks us up in the next few minutes as Erika promised. Please say a quick prayer for us, that the severely unlucky date doesn't spell certain doom for us. I'd like to say I'm unfazed by the whole Friday the 13th thing, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that, in the back of my mind, it does bug me a little.
Hopefully, other, more superstitious people will chose not to travel tonight, meaning plenty of elbow room for the two of us.
In any event, I'll be back Monday with a new blog and, hopefully, lots of pictures. Unless I don't feel like it, or if I forget.
See you then, if not before!

Lucky Sevens

At least some 38,000 brides thought so last weekend, according to a news report from Saturday that I kind of remember. People also flocked to Las Vegas and Atlantic City in record droves, undoubtably realizing later that a coincidental confluence of numbers doesn't necessarily translate into untold fortune. But at least some casino owners made a few extra dollars, and that's the important thing.

More significant, however, my lovely wife Shelly's birthday was last Saturday, as attested here by a beautiful botique of flowers from her friend Stefanie.

Realizing the old adage 'why compete with someone who's just going to kick your butt anyway', I shied away from floral arrangements as gifts, choosing instead an engraved jewelry box from Things Remembered. I will indeed 'remember' the reaming I took having it engraved... I'll hardly be able to forget. But Shelly's worth every penny and more.

We celebrated by going to Cheesecake Factory for dinner, joined by Law School Melissa (see previous blog entries, et al) and mother Mary Bibb. I decided on a nice personal pizza, and I wasn't sorry. Afterwards, we crossed the plaza to the movie theater and took in a viewing of Transformers. I was all ready for it to be cheesy (and it definately was, in parts; the film's about robots that change into vehicles, for goodness' sake!), but the effects were nicely done and the story was pretty entertaining. One down side was that there was about a half hour that I would have been happy to view on the 'Deleted Scenes' menu of the DVD (the scene where the Autobots are in the back yard, unbeknowst to the main character's parents, while he is looking for The Glasses goes on forever). Also, and this might have just been the theater's fault, but they had the volume turned up louder than crap- I seriously had trouble hearing people talk immediately afterwards. But all in all, I liked it. I might even want to see it again!

I received an email from Jen S. this past weekend, informing me (and a plethora of other people) that she's joined me on the blogosphere. You can check out her deep, intriguing reflections here. I was gratified to see that Shelly and I made the list of things to do in the next three years.

I'd like to take a moment to express my intense, heart-felt loathing for DMVs all over the country, both the institutions themselves and the detestable subsentients who staff them. Sorry, no details on that, but I'm sure I have sympathetic ears in the audience. Let's all just hope and pray my follow-up trip to the Ninth Circle of Hell tomorrow is my last for the foreseeable future.

Friday, Shelly and I will be flying up to Maryland, then on Saturday driving over to Brad's wedding in Salisbury. Needless to say, I won't be blogging, but I'll probably see most of you then. Hotel party at the Country Inn and Suites afterwards!

Hmm, what else? Can't think of much, but that's probably because of my splitting headache from screaming at the computer. This thing is taking me back to the Tandy 1000 days in terms of the time it takes to load anything. Finally I just pulled up the task manager and started shutting off programs. Could be my imagination (in fact, it probably is), but that seemed to help.

Sorry, I know this has been a short entry, but I feel the call of that mattress in my bones. See ya later!

PS- here's a good 'goose' picture I rediscovered tonight. Enjoy, and bemoan the fact that you don't have them near your house!

Happy Independence Day!

One of the security questions we at SECU ask our members, to better identify them should they call in on the phone, is "Name your favorite holiday". Many of them don't have a strong opinion about it, but Independence Day has always been my favorite. The wonderful, wholesome warmth, the smell of a cookout, that feeling of relaxation that just inundates you as you drive to the ridiculously crowded fireworks display- there's just no other holiday quite like it.

Now, just because I shared that with you doesn't mean I'm giving you tacit permission to hack my account.

Just a bit of news: Shelly and I, very aware of beach week at the end of the month, have gone on a diet and increased our workouts, respectively. I have hit the treadmill every night this week. In a related note, I'm also having trouble standing here in front of the computer, due to the extreme fatigue of my legs. But the good news is I've lost a hot 3 pounds already.

So, yesterday, Shelly and I slept in (nothing new there). We took it easy all day, with her and her mother (who has been staying with us since Tuesday) only venturing out to shop at one point. Later on, Erika and Charlotte came over for dinner, with Jason joining them later on after returning from work. Charlotte celebrated by allowing her parents to eat their entire dinner without a single squawk, but then released her pent up frustration after dinner, causing the Hawkins duo to beat a hasty retreat, almost leaving Jason's tie in the process.

After their departure, the three of us remaining traveled to the Koka Booth Amphitheater for the fireworks show! We reached it in twenty minutes, but even though we were an hour early, we had to park over a mile from the actual grounds. We trekked down to the actual site, following the gargantuan mob, until we reached the grounds of the park and then, the Amphitheater itself, which was located on the shore of a decent-sized lake (lamentably, no Honkers). After about half an hour listening to the renditions of the North Carolina Symphony, the show got started in earnest. (See picture at the beginning of post).

That's really about it. I could regal you tales of our escape from Cary, but I can tell you're not interested.

Hope everyone else had a great day. See most of you next weekend. Sorry for the awkward ending, Shelly's looking over my shoulder and it's making me nervous. It's not enough she's kept me up the last four nights with her snoring; now not even my blogging is sacred!

Here's a picture of little Charlotte. Excessively cute, or best birth control ever- take your pick! ;)

(I guess it's just possible to be both)