No fancy preamble this time. Let’s get straight to the weekend recap:
Saturday
Nothing quite like getting all dressed up with someplace to go, if you ask me. Today’s occasion was the marriage of my cousin John to his sweetheart Megan, a joyous occasion well worth the effort of getting all dressed up in my one good suit for (A suit put together in the in the nick of time for the last wedding I went to, I may ad). ^_^
We ventured down (or out, or south — whatever) to Cape May Court House, arriving at the church a whole hour ahead of schedule. First time for everything, you know. We were a bit hungry, the reception was still many hours away and I didn’t feel like having my stomach grumble just as the priest was asking if anyone objected to the union (how embarrasing would THAT be?), so we ducked into McDonalds to kill a few minutes and a poor excuse for a hamburger.
There is something to be said for the sight of three people in suits, dress shirts and dresses walking into a fast food chain full of shorts and tees. One little boy asked if I had just gotten back from my prom. I got a good chuckle out of that.
The ceremony itself was rather lovely, with the only painfully uncomfortable part being the hymn we were asked to sing from the handout. It’s not that the sound wasn’t pleasant when we all got into it; but when you have close to a hundred people trying to sing a song that almost no one knew without someone to shepherd their timing and tone…let’s just call it an “uneasy” moment. Some of the looks from the congregation at that moment were truly priceless as we muttered our way through.
Hey, we all got a good laugh from it. Priest, bride and groom included.
After the happy young couple rode off into the sunset (and around the block because they still had many wedding photos to take at the church), we found ourselves with time to kill before the reception proper began, so we wandered to a local pub down the street. The bar was about 3/4 full when we got inside, and some in our group joked we should just get a keg and tailgate instead of fighting for seating, but we managed to force a 50/50 split with the locals who were engrossed watching the Ryder Cup on TV.
It was in this bar, somewhere between my second and third glass of Rolling Rock that my cousin Sharon made comments about my writing and telling me I should write a book. Now as an aside, this is something that I had been quietly considering, so if I actually do follow through and unleash a literary work upon the masses, you can blame her for it. ^_^
OK, aside over. Back to the story.
The reception was held at a rather swanky country club just a minutes drive from the bar. From top to bottom this place just screamed class. To paraphrase the famous Amex ad campaign: Membership certainly does have it’s privileges. We were ushered out to the patio for more drinks and little slabs of crab and cow on crackers and cocktail napkins, while a 4-piece offshoot of the bad for the evening played jazz for our enjoyment. It was a nice touch, though I believe they played “The Girl From Ipanema” no less than four times.
As the night progressed, we all engaged in the ritual grub, gab, drink and dance routine. Some of the high points for me included dancing in the center of a large circle of people like an absolute freak and getting cheered on for my efforts, getting called “Shaggy” about 398 times (answering with “No, I’m not Shaggy, just a hippie” every one of them,) and being told by the groom I’ll look back at photos of my hair five years from now and asK “What was I thinking?”.
We’ll see about that last one, John. ^_^
Finally we said our goodbyes and started the long trip home from Cape May, while John Christopher and Megan started their long trip together as man and wife. Hopefully their time together is as smooth as our trip home that night was. Best wishes to you both, cousins!
Sunday
Sunday was a walk in the park — literally. Good friend Sue and I went and wandered through Allaire Park, taking in the sights. The village was up and running in full force, and we got to see some old fashioned foot operated tools like a jigsaw and lathe at the Carpenters shop courtesy of a volunteer who seemed to get as much joy out of reliving the past as we got out of watching it.
After a quick bite to eat at the Allenwood General Store (home of the best bacon cheeseburger in the WORLD, I tell you), we drove around a bit, stopping at an art gallery in Wall Township on a whim. Inside I stumbled across many great looking works, (some of which will become Christmas presents for some people I know,) including one that my sister had posed for that some guy I graduated with did. That was certainly an unexpected supprise.
Of course, no autumnal Sunday would be complete without me watching my beloved Giants play. It really is unfortunately that had to suck up the joint on this day. They are also starting to scare me a bit with playing habits this season that look a lot like the playing habits of last year, and that’s NOT a good thing. Gotta keep my fingers crossed on that one.
As evening set in, I was feeling a touch restless and a little empty thanks in part to the G-Men’s struggles earlier, so I climbed in my car and motored around, just looking for something to do while I let my ears soak in some Gov’t. Mule off of the WBGO airwaves.
I wound up at the Java Hut, simply looking to drink some lemon tea and soak in the sounds of whoever happened to be playing. the Musicians in question were a rather loose knit group just jamming — it was more of a practice session than a performance. At one point I was offered up a seat behind the bongos and I gracefully accepted. Even though we were under shop directives to keep the noise down for fear of retribution from the boss upstairs, we managed to make something that loosely resembled music. When we stopped for a moment’s breather, I received something that I have never been privy to before.
Applause. From a total stranger. Now THAT is an intoxicating feeling.
Feeling a tad beat and figuring that I could only sour my newfound reputation as a great improvisational musician if I pressed on that night (I am still learning percussion, after all), I called it a night and made my way back home.
Yeah, it was a good weekend. But then again, with an open bar and an open seat book-ending it, I had little doubt it would be anything but. ^_^
