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2005-11-02 - 1:14 p.m. One wedding, three bottles of champagne, a Black Pelican and a Gull surfing cat Hmm. The entry�s title sounds like a spoof country music song. Gaston and Rosalind�s wedding was fabulous. Fabulous guests, glowing bride, lovely family, beautiful ceremony, and a hopping reception where reality shifted so Alan was dancing like a crazy man and Connor was standing to the side being dignified. Don�t worry � Efen was still being Efen, so we didn�t entirely leave this plane of reality. Gaston hosted us Thursday night where we stayed up much, much too late. Meng, darling, were there really three bottles of champagne Thursday night? Then, Friday was off to the Elizabethan Gardens, a ramble through sun-dappled paths to a beautiful patio just off the Roanoke Sound where the seawinds blew through the October afternoon. Meng, shivering while we watched the rehearsal. I brought a cocktail dress. You? Theo: Yep. Meng: So, shopping tomorrow? Theo: Oh, yes please. We ripped through the outlet mall Saturday morning and found more substantial clothing just in time for (a) Roland not to abandon us in impatience and (b) find the guys for leisurely lunch at The Black Pelican. (Yes, I bought a tshirt.) Then, into my new wicked witch boots (v. warm) and off to the wedding where Falcone made me sniff during his sermon on St. Francis. I�m a big St. Francis fan. I�ll make no comments on what the wedding party was doing in the Gazebo of Doom before and after the ceremony. Ah, and we love Gaston and Ros, yes we do. The reception had a fireplace next to a bar stocked with Scotch - perfect after late afternoon in an autumn garden. Sunday, we spent walking the beach where we met a gull surfing cat. Excuse me? said Nikulai. The cat jumps on gulls backs and goes for a ride. There were no gulls nearby for a live demonstration, but you could trace gulls tracks and paw prints in the sand, there intersection marked by a few stray feathers, then the paw prints disappear. Besides, cats never perform for an audience. He surveyed the beach, and, seeing no winged victims, turned and took his owner back inside. Nothing like the workweek to blow away the beauty of a perfect weekend. Monday morning � so, just like you predicted, they did it. I close my eyes, draw an deep breath and say. Fuck. I need to learn to say that with a charming British accent, cause I�ll be saying it a lot this week. Yes, another week of too many long days and never enough time, oh my poor, patient friends who listened to me rant Monday night (thank you!). It�s hard to travel so many weekends straight, and I am wavering on the trip to Crown. But, there are my Pods and the Podlet, which is much enticement. But, today is All Soul�s Day, a day to pause for remembrance and an evening spent at the National Cathedral listening to Faure�s Requiem echo through the choir. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �