What a Way to Welcome Someone Back!

I am completely overwhelmed by your loving, generous comments to my post yesterday! I can't even wrap my mind around the warmth from you all.

I would say that I'm speechless in response, but you who know me also know that would be a lie, so I'll just go ahead and jump into some words like a kid swinging over a pond on a summer day and letting go. Not that I ever did that. That would be way too scary for me (and my mom) to have ever considered doing, but I always liked watching people do it on TV.

Anyway, as I sat here basking in your comments, I'm sure Jorge could see, from across the room, the silvery sparkle-twinkle of your love for me in my starry, starry eyes. But just as I typed the first letters of this very paragraph, my little dog made an editorial comment of the stinky kind in my laundry room. Now that will bring a person back to Earth right quick. But that's OK. I'm resigned to and content with my life, where I fight the battle of the [pet] bowels with paper towel and disinfectant on a daily basis.

But for one brief moment ... I WAS Sally Field.

This was also my first day back to work after having a week off before the wedding. Lots of people welcomed me back and asked how the wedding went, and while I was very happy to talk about it, every time somebody asked, I was keenly aware that he/she had not been invited, and I felt a little sheepish. But here's the thing--it wasn't my idea to limit the guests. It was the bride's and groom's idea. They wanted a small wedding, just a few friends, family and God, and that's what we did. Still, I felt guilty.

I consoled myself by telling myself that the people who inquired were probably happy to merely hear about the event and not be obliged to give a gift or sit through the ceremony.

By the way, the whole ceremony only lasted 28 minutes. I know this because somebody timed it and told us. ??

I don't get it, either.

So after a full day yesterday of counting and counting and counting white rented table cloths and coming up short, and after scraping candle wax off of the borrowed cake plates, and after throwing away box after box emptied of contents ranging from candles to lemon drops wrapped in tulle (also pictured here), I went back to work today to begin the busiest week of our year.

This is the big community service blitz week, cleverly entitled, "Serve."

I was bone tired, but I had to hit the ground running.

As I walked through the empty chapel today going about my business, though, I was surprised to see much of the florist's decorations still at the front of the room. And in the middle of the platform on the floor was a bud vase with two Gold Strike roses (pictured here) in them from the wedding. Do you think that made my heart break a little? Yes, yes it did. I took the vase to my desk and placed it on the ledge. Still beautiful, like my memories of the day.

The happy couple are on their way to California as I write this, Mendocino, to be exact. I received a text from Katie earlier today: "Attn: Parents. We are about to board our flight." I didn't ask her to do that, but it was sweet.

So that was my wonderful "welcome back" to blogging, to work and to days no longer filled with anxious thoughts about "what I need to do as soon as I get home ...."

I'm switching gears, but I'm not doing it so smoothly yet.

And now, there is another distraction as I write this. I do not have any idea how this happened, but somehow, sitting here, I cut the knuckle on my right thumb, and I've been wrapping it up in tissues the whole time I've writing this. You should see the typos I have edited. It will not stop bleeding, so I must stop now.

Gee, that's sad when the only way to end your own babbling is by unstoppable bleeding.

Ok, Universe (meaning battle of the bowels and bleeding) I get the message. Time to stop!

PS: Wouldn't "Gold Strike Rose" be a great name for a racehorse? Dave Barry hears names of rock bands in weird word combos; I hear racehorse names. That is all.