u s e y o u r h a n d s

When I almost fell over last night, I thought, “Right now, I am listing like a boat.”

I thought it was an interesting image.

Last night, I went to Wendy’s reading down at 57th Street Books in Hyde Park. I was glad to be out for the first time in a while. And even though i really enjoy Brian’s company, there’s something fun about doing things on your own. I got to take a different Metra line down to Hyde Park, during which I chatted with a conductor who seemed British, but I couldn’t really tell if he was just affecting the accent or what. At some point, he said that he thought the new nickel was creepy. i remarked that I liked the new nickel. He said that euros were creepy too, but that they were worth more so it all evened out.

And Wendy’s reading was fun. She was billed as “acclaimed local author,” which is what Leigh and I called her the rest of the night. I bought a new book (not Wendy’s — another author’s) after judging it solely by its cover. After the reading, we went back up to Lincoln Square for drinks at a new wine bar, which we didn’t end up going to because it looked like it was full of assholes. So we popped into Jury’s. The wine list was incredibly reasonable and the waitstaff personable.

There was much laughing, and talk of enormous hunks of corn bread.

The day after the wedding, I took a look at the big mound of presents that we had in the dining room and burst out into tears.

And later that day, when we finally stopped moving, we decided to watch a movie. And since Netflix had just delivered Garden State, we decided to watch that.

The next day, we got on a plane. I had to take a fistful of beta blockers to be able to do this.

And now I’m incredibly depressed. I’m not sure how everything ties together, but I see me sobbing over wedding ribbons, Zach Braff screaming into a crevasse, and the blinding gleam of the Great Lakes seen at a great height all linked together.

I’m redoing my comments. I had over 62,000 spam comments that I just didn’t want to deal with until the other day. Patience, I hear, is a virtue.

We got married in a giant blur filled with sparkling seaweed and technicolor dolphins.

Married.

Sure, I had a bridezilla moment or two, but all in all, things went wonderfully. Everyone had a good time. Everyone ate. People got drunk. Someone threw up. All the cake was gobbled up. There was dancing. The DJ played Morrissey. I cried. We smiled. I hugged everyone.

I couldn’t have done it without my set-up crew, who were patient and proactive. I am forever grateful. To Naz, who took photos. To Andrew, who played the student body president. To Deanne and Peter, who did the balloons. To Matt, who was endlessly calm. To Deric, who was can-do all the way. To Robby, who was invaluable. To Leigh, who was a gem. To Wendy, who officially married us and who fed me. To Dawn and Leana, who put on my makeup. To Don, my boss, who conducted the ceremony and wielded the scissors.

People commented on the vows, saying they were geniune and clever. While Brian put his to paper, i knew if I did that i’d just cry through the whole thing. So I just thought about what I’d say and said it. I remember looking at the ceiling. I know I cried. But here’s about what I said, plus a bit of what I forgot to say:

A few weeks ago, we had the perfect day. We got up early and I made you breakfast. And you always like what I make and always eat it with thanks. And then we got coffee at that place that’s always too hot. You know exactly how I like my coffee and make it kitty-friendly. Then we went to the MCA, in the middle of the MusiCircus and all of the noise and spectacle. We enjoyed it all, thoroughly excited by the energy in the museum. And then our walk down Michigan Avenue in the rain, so much like a French film. You kissed me in the rain. We went to that playground by my office. And there was no sound except for the fountains, just the phenomenal skyline and the swings. We went up and down in perfect rhythm, enjoying the moment. Then we happened through Millennium Park, where Barenboim was rehearsing. We sat and listened and just enjoyed the harmony. And it wasn’t all perfect, but it was so close to perfect that I recognized - in the moment - how special that day was. How peaceful. And in a life not always full of peace or harmony or happiness, I was so pleased to be there will you.

Do you promise to give me the room and time I need to grow to be the person I want to be?

Do you promise to be patient with me, always, even when I’m not patient in return?

Do you promise to remain active, always searching for new ideas and experiences?

To each question, Brian responded, “I promise I will try.” We thought that was honest, a standard to which we could rise. I hope to always try, though I know that sometimes I won’t succeed.

It’s been a week and a half. And so far, we’re doing just fine.