Well, you should of known I was going to go ga-ga over my girl.

Time now for Laura Fest, where I indulge myself by posting a rediculous amount of pictures of my favorite nurse.

Jeepers, creepers, where did you get those peepers?


The sweet and innocent sweetheart.


















Sometimes there's a little attitude.
And sometimes there's a lot of attitude. 

One of the things I like best about visiting new places is getting the chance to sample the local cuisine. I happen to adore Scandinavian food.

In fact, I love Scandinavian food so much that when we got married, our rehearsal dinner was held at a Scandinavian restaurant in Lemon Grove.

For years our favorite date was to go out for a late breakfast on Friday mornings to the Dansk Tea Room in La Mesa, near our home for fourteen years in Southern California.









The tea room had walls painted Copenhagen blue, white lace curtains and red Swedish horses for decoration. It was easy to imagine we were in Sweden, as girls in Swedish folk dress brought us beautifully prepared dishes, their hair worn in braids wrapped crown like around their heads.
The table mats and wall art there showed Carl Larssen art, tender portraits of domestic bliss in Sweden.
Bliss indeed for us as well to be in that special place.

Now that we live in Houston we haven't found any Scandinavian restaurants to visit. We make due with occasional visits to IKEA's little cafeteria. Love those lingonberries and Swedish meatballs.

Now Mexican food is easy to find in San Diego, Houston, and even in Salt Lake City.
Just about every street has a Mexican restaurant.

But sometimes I just long for a good traditional Scandinavian meal.

Pictured above: The wedding rehearsal dinner.

(So of course the rehearsal dinner in Minneapolis, the center of Scandinavian people in America, was held at Dave and Busters. The fajita and taco buffet was outstanding. Really! I just love fajitas and toco! Eat them all the time. Who knew the Scandinavian people could cook fajitas and tacos just like the Mexicans???)

preparations

The day has arrived.
Feb. 2, 2007.
Candlemass.
Winter is half way over.
Andrea is laced into her wedding gown.
A veil is added, and it is clear: Andrea today has become a bride.

In the reception hall, the cake has arrived.


Florists and caterers create table settings that are elegant, reflecting the taste and style of the bride.















The wedding party was told to arrive at the church at 12:30.
Picture taking would begin at 2.
The Bridal room was warm and lively, with hair and dresses, jewelry and make-up transforming girls in jeans to beautiful bridal attendants.

At two, the bridal party withdrew, leaving the bride alone in her room.
The groom knocked at the door.
And the two shared a tender moment uncaptured except in their own private memories.

After that, for three and a half hours, picture after picture captured the wedding party and families.

That's a lot of pictures.
Whew.
I don't think I could have managed for so long in a corset, holding a heavy bouquet and smiling again and again.

(The groom looked just a little tried as the hours wore on, and pictures continued to be snapped.
Rented patent leather tuxedo shoes don't feel so good standing on pseudo cobble stones in the park like setting outside the chapel.
I stole to his side and whispered:
"You know, it's still not too late to elope."
"Here's my keys" he replied softly. "Quick, go warm up my car!")

Laura and I stayed together.
I changed in the bridal room once the crowd cleared out.
We walked and talked, and shared our thought about what she would want in a wedding.
We think alike.
No muss.
No fuss.

Laura's been in five weddings: One in a back yards, one in a park, one in a gazebo, one on the beach, and now this one, in a church.

I'm glad I was happy with my own wedding. Too many brides suffer for having to fulfill their own mother's thwarted wedding dreams.

It isn't that I think a big wedding is wrong.
I don't.
The wedding in Cannaan was a humdinger.
Far be it from me to disapprove of big weddings like that!

I think it is more that we think more of marriage than we do of weddings.

And it is hard to focus on the specialness of the day that vows are taken and a marriage begins when there's cake arrivals to notice and strangers to meet and dress steamers vying for your attention.

A weddings is a lovely scripted one day scene.
While marriage day by year unfolds, the creation of life together, unscripted.

Wedding, though, are a beautiful thing.

MN Wedding Journal: Rehearsal

The Brides Room.

So cute!










It facinated me that the ultra contemporary facility bowed to the traditional for this hard working space.
The furniture all looked antique, like well loved pieces from grandmother's house.
It looked like a cozy place to curl up with a cup of tea and a good friend for a nice long chat on the sofa.
The little dressing table was adorable, with a crystal dressing table set, lace and a tiny (wobbly) upholstered stool.
In another little room behind this table was a beauty parlor set up.
There was a shampoo sink with an indentation for the neck, a hard bonnet hair drier, a chair with lift and spin capacity, and a half wall of mirrors with make up lighting.

Cute, cute, cute!

It was the next day, as the bride stood getting laced into her dress, that she noticed one of the pink toile design was a girl milking a goat.

One of those whimsical things that makes you smile.

As charming and pretty and romantic and everthing that this room was, let me just make a suggestion for those designing Brides Rooms:

Once you add five bridesmaids, assorted mothers and grandmothers, hairdresses and photographers, crinoline petticoats, trains, makeup bags, clothing in bags, boots, steamers and waterbottles, the Bride's Room gets a little tight, and very warm.

This bride's room connected to the very large (like 16 stalls) bathroom, which helped.

But what is really needed more than crystal dressing table sets and big poofy pillows is:
Hooks on the walls that are slightly higher than one's head, to keep trains off the ground.
More hooks to hold bags of assorted "stuff".
A mini refrigerator so an ice chest isn't needed.
More raised flat surfaces, so everything doesn't have to go on the floo
A step stool so the veil can be placed/fixed on the bride without her having to sit down.
A stall with a door so wide bell shaped dresses don't get crushed going in and out.

I've been in several Bride's Rooms in the heat of the wedding preparation battle, and have always been stuck with how cute they are, yet impractical in function.

Maybe if the bride and her attendants were all to arrive at the church ready to walk down the aisle these rooms would be perfect.
A space to retreat to while guest arrive.
A cozy space for a cup of tea and a final visit with your girlfriends.

Um, again, maybe this is just me...but I just can't see that happening!
Except maybe in my white lace and promises dreams.

The rehearsal.
I liked the chandeliers!
The rogue gallery "before" picture.

I loved the Chapel's white pews, and the soft color scheme.
On the side walls were old plaster Stations of the Cross hangings.

A very serene place.

A traditonal feeling place, a perfect place for the more sentimental rituals of Christian life.

A perfect place for Andrea's wedding.

MN Journal: "Living Word Christian Center"

"Living Word Christian Center" is where the wedding will be held,

It is an ENORMOUS facility, with a bookstore, coffee bars, a sanctuary like a modern theater, PLUS a wedding chapel.

And that is only what I was able to see as I went to go to the wedding rehersal.





This is what you see when you walk in the front door.
There is also a very large bookstore and gift shop just to the right.
A nice plaza between the Sanctuary and the Chapel.
Perfect for mingling between services.
The fountains, clock, lanterns and arboreum create a feeling is both elegant and park like.




























Sincerely, I am impressed and approve of this kind of facility. Its design is fitting to accomodate the activities of this particular church.
Everywhere I looked I saw wise choices to facilitate large groups both efficiently and comfortably.

Even so, I think wistfully about white clapboard churches with soaring steels, and English chapels surrounded by cemetaries.

I've sat and worshipped in the church building where Bernie's ancestors were baptised and married, back in the 1700's, in Maryland. Around that church were the headstones of the families who have worshipped there for generations.

There's something powerful about considering those who have gone before, and imagining how the quiet setting will look when those dead in Christ shall rise again.

I really like how "Living Word Christian Center" performs.
I truly do.

But I think about the words, the titles:

"Sports Center" "Medical Center" "Business Center" "Media Center" "Shopping Center" "Community Center."

Whatever happened to "Church"?

"Church" and "Chapel" and "Cathedral" and "Mission"?

Those old clapboard steepled building really don't make sense any more.

But somehow I alway feel a comfort when I see them.

The new laptop has arrived!













I had forgotten it came with the new operating system XP.
I'm pretty comfortable with Windows 95, especially with the office assistant cat the meows and used my writings as a scratching post.
FUN!

XP will take a little get used to.
I'm game, and want to dig in

But of course, life is never simple

The package arrived as I was scrambling to get to work, for an shift that was going to be more challenging than usual. My little brain was full.

Bernie fired the computer up, and cries of joy rang out from our office:
"Check this out!"
"Isn't this cool!"
"What do you think about this?"

Aaagghhhh...off to work I went, leaving my baby behind.

Tuesday was even challenging.

Ever notice that if you put one thing on your calendar, a whole bunch of other stuff pile on in the same square?

Tuesday, 9:30 am.
Eye doctor follow up appointment.
One hour in office, one hour driving time round trip.

Bernie had to schedule a trip to Nashville.
We decide I would drive him to the airport at 12:30.
That way I could take his car when I went to the airport at 5:30, park his car in the five story parking garage at the airport, tell him where I parked, and then when he flew home Wednesday, he would just find his car and drive on home., and only have to pay one day's parking fees.

Perfect!

In between his work, he is still playing with the new computer.
And calling out to me to come see this, where would I like this installed, do I understand how to use that?
He's putting CDs into a case for me to enjoy on the plane, and suggesting DVDs that I could watch. He's adding batteries and earphones and everything he can think of that I might need when I use this new wonder while I'm away.

And my brain is going:
I should pack two pairs of panty hose, in case I get a run before the wedding. Should I take the chuncky scarf to go with the sweater or just wear a turtleneck under it? Where did I put the hat that goes with that dress? Pearl hat pin or green one? Got to remember to pack my favorite tea for the room....

At 12:30 we get ready to head to the airport to drop him off. We go over the plan one more time:

I'll drive him to the airport in his car.
Then I'll drive myself to the airport in his car.
(I make a big yellow note for myself: TAKE BERNIE'S CAR TO THE AIRPORT! Otherwise I'll forget and hop into mine...)
I'll park in the AIRPORT parking garage, write down where in the garage, and call him with the location, leaving a voice mail.
He'll then drive his car home.

Got it.

Off we went, and right there at the curb we realized that the key in the ignition was the only key we brought, and the other one was sitting on top of the yellow note on the kitchen table.

Doh!

(Not to worry, we cooked up a plan to put the key and the locking device inside the gas cap door.
So much for the little metallic hide-a-key option. Plus with our car being 10 years old, doesn't that shiny new Lexus parked right next to our car look like a lot more fun to steal? Of course it does!)

My one large suitcase, my not so large suitcase, my backpack, purse and myself arrived safely in Minneapolis late last night.

I've figured out how to use wireless connections, and that laptops de-magnetize hotel room keys.

Double doh!

I think I'm liking this new XP system flavor.

Almost as I like the new Hershey's Chocolate Cherry flavored Kisses, which were at work on Monday night as a pre-Valentine's Day treat.

Oh. My. Gosh.

How did I ever survive without Chocolate Cherry flavored Kisses?

New flavors.

I definitely like!
-

Three below what???


 

Hard to say.

This is before.

The garden bed is choked with Mexican Petunias, dead leaves, weeds.

Some people, including myself at one point, BUY Mexican Petunia, because when they are young they have pretty lavender flowers.

Some people think dead leaves are great in garden beds.

Some people call a weed a volunteer.

This is a collection of rocks, roots and leaves that was in the garden bed.







Oops, rock, roots and leaves, and a small tiny snake.
Um, actually a pretty good size snake, about three feet long.

Harmless.

He's where he belongs, doing his job.
(giving the cats something to stare at...)







And what is this?
A big fat spider living under a rock edge.

I'm not sure what kind it is.
(Sure is ugly...)

Not a Black widow.
There's no red hour glass mark, and the legs are too short.
And not a Brown Recluse, as there is no brown violin mark on his back, and the legs are again too short.
Tickling him with a pine needle, I urge him back into hiding again.

This was our garden to tend.
Its boundaries to defend.
We knew what we were doing.

The petunias, despite their summer blooms had choked the garden bed with their woody gnarled roots and lanky leggy necks.
(We would not allow them to crowd the space.)

The leaves would harbor fungus, and not compost well,
(We wouldn't allow them to bank the borders, and clutter the view.)

The snake we checked to be sure it was harmless.
The spider we questioned, and noted its space.

We spread rich soil to enrich the native clay base, got gritty, and warm, and our faces became covered in smiles and sweat.

We felt good about our day.

I got a call.

A friend who has no time for gardens.
She tends those who are dying.
(Spending days without sleep, as only she know what the dying need.)
She cares for those who are sick.
(Spending years in that watchfulness, gone from her home multiple days each week.)
She fills out forms for those in need.
(Spending hours calculating, and filing, they wouldn't know how.)
She drives long miles to visit those in prison.
(Spending hours traveling for a brief visit and chat, who else would go?)
She opens her home to the homeless.
(Spending her understanding of alcoholism gained from a parent as a child to understand the alcoholic at her door.)

It's hard to say sometimes.

Weeds or flowers.
Dead leaf clutter or the beginning of mulch.
Space or snake.
Harmless or harmful.
Exquisite care or expressed dysfunction.
Works for her or working her.
A call of God or comforting chaos.

Dying to self

Or just dying.

Hard to know the boundaries of what to say to a friend.

What she calls flowers,

I call choking weeds.