After 13 Full Work Weeks
The long-awaited long weekend. And as luck would have it, IP and I are both sick. First me, then IP. I was hoping that he wouldn’t get it, but his throat started bothering him last night. He’s currently down for the count while I rise slowly from the wallop this cold packed. I think it combined nicely with my allergies to make me absolutely miserable. Hooray?
I missed work on Wednesday and got sent home halfway through the day yesterday. I went to sleep almost immediately, woken only when IP came home from work, sent home early thanks to his office shutting down early. I apparently muttered some words at him and then fell asleep again. I woke up at 6pm and the rest of the evening was spent talking, eating dinner, reading and general mischief. Our Outlook calendars screamed at us to do some wedding prep (or at least think about it), but we pointedly ignored Outlook.
Probably prolonging my cold was a visit to the JoCo concert at the Birchmere in Alexandria on Thursday. I was halfway tempted to not go during the workday, but a Sudafed improved my state enough that I thought it would be a fun and good idea. And it was, for the most part: the concert was a benefit for the Lung Transplant Foundation (JoCo’s booking agent underwent the surgery and he’s doing spectacular), so our money went to a good cause. In return, we got some great entertainment from JoCo (per usual, that). Opening for JoCo was local singer Chelsea Lee: this girl has a great voice (even IP was impressed, and he is tough to impress when it comes to music). However, her material needs a bit more development. She’s young; some life experience will give her some great material and hopefully her songs will mature. Most singer-songwriters will undergo some growth (look at Paul Simon’s “I Am a Rock”—I love that song but you can’t convince me it’s anything but teenage angst; on the other hand, years down the road, you’ve got the magic that are “Graceland” and “Darling Lorraine” floating around), and here’s hoping she experiments with that great voice of hers.
Anyway, JoCo was, as I mentioned above, awesome and funny. We were able to hear a few songs we hadn’t really paid attention to: “Big Bad World One”, “Blue Sunny Day”, and “Betty and Me.” I have “A Talk with George” on my iPod, but tend not to listen to it; when JoCo gave his explanation of the song I found myself weirdly inspired (other events have helped me feel this way, too, but the song certainly helped). I also thought the song a great candidate for our first dance; neither IP nor I are very romantic by nature, and we see the marriage as the beginning of a big new adventure in which we inspire each other to reach for things that otherwise seemed impossible—after all, with someone so wonderful who’s got your back and giving you strength, why shouldn’t you try? My complaint about love songs in general is that they serve as a terminus point: we’re married, we’re together, great, let’s get to making babies. But that’s hardly the truth for any couple and certainly not something I see IP and myself falling into. I don’t like love songs for the most part because they seem like an end, a closure; marriage is the ultimate victory, right? As Dana Carvey’s John McLaughlin might say, WRONG! It is only the beginning (and you had Special K with banana for breakfast). Something like “A Talk with George” is much more inspiring and worthy; what’s next, how can we do it, and what other things will we do along the way? We’ve long said that this wedding is a bit different and a chance to express our personalities. Why stick with a mopey, dopey, boring love song? We’re not mopey, dopey and boring (at least I don’t think we are); we’re certainly not lovey-dovey. Why start now (or then, as the case may be)?
The first dance may not be “A Talk with George”. But I’ll be damned if it’s “Unchained Melody”.
That was quite a digression, but the concert, while fun, probably took the place of what should’ve been an evening of rest for me. Fast-forward to Friday afternoon and my boss sends me home.
So today, with IP now sick, I’ve been reading, doing remarkably little wedding-wise, and now writing. The day is beautiful and I should get outside; however, I need to find a new book to take with me as I finished the one I started last night. D’oh! IP and I are both taking the day as a rest day; while I feel better, I don’t think hitting the gym with my typical ferocity is a good idea, and IP is definitely not up to it. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to make my triumphant return to my New Balance 859s, and hopefully IP will be feeling loads better. I’m of the mind to order some Mexican Talavera tiles (part of another wedding scheme, actually) and find another book to read. An afternoon nap? Also doesn’t sound too bad.
Up next, though? I turn 31 on Monday. What the hell, how did that happen? When did that happen? And why do I still feel like I’m 25?
