Daily Office: Thursday
¶ Matins: Le jour de mariage va arriver! Here, a week from tomorrow.
¶ Sext: If I were not more than a little distracted by happy family matters (see above and below), I’d search my sites for mentions of “Democratic Party, Death of.” That would be the index heading, if I had an index. Nicholas Kristoff’s Op-Ed piece shows how this demise was brought about by more than the Democratic Party’s candidates’ warring blows. Their candidacies reveal an ever more clear-cut split between “working people” Democrats and “progressive” Democrats. When I think what the postponed recognition of this divide spells for American justice, I weep.
¶ Nones: Wow! A friend just sent me a link to moo, and within half an hour I placed an order for mini-business cards, exactly what I’ve wanted and have been putting off designing. For a tad over $25 net, I’ll be getting one hundred cards.
Oremus…
Our introductory photo, from last year; but, if anything, they both look even better, certainly smoother, after a year of tumbling about in a teeny-tiny apartment.
§ Matins. I’m as giddy as if I were playing the Jack Lemmon role. Which I am! Because Kathleen and I have yet to meet Ryan’s parents, Megan thought that we should all get together for brunch before the nuptials. At Balthasar, which is a great idea, only two stops on the Six from the Municipal Building, at least if the printer knows anybody there. (If you have to ask what “the printer” has to do with anything, you haven’t been paying attention.) But before? I argued a re-think. Since the O’Neills have been instructed to be in Manhattan by 10 AM on Friday the 25th, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they’ll come into the city from New Jersey, where they live, and stay at a hotel. If they do, then Kathleen and I would be happy to take them out to dinner on Thursday evening. What’s not to like? The kids are totally spared any embarrassing confrontations, which probably won’t happen anyway, because we’re all sophisticated grownups here, and don’t I sound like a cockamamie optimist played by Jack Lemmon! I mean, you could dream up an entire disaster film about such a dinner: the parents meeting for the first time without any kids on hand to keep them in line. I’m already renting the original In-Laws! I’ll call from Tegucigalpa! (Because I know that’s where we’ll be going!)
[The Editorial Staff of The Daily Blague regrets the preceding paragraph, but has decided not to quash it. Although the content is violently unclear, experience suggests that our Mr Popcorn will return to earth in a matter of hours, and we expect him to be quite apologetic, perhaps even hangdog, in the morning. That’s why we’re letting this entry run.]
§ Sext. But, as I say, I’m distracted by matters closer to home.
Attentive readers, recalling my forecast of a happy day in November for my daughter’s wedding, may wonder if they’ve missed something. They have. A few weeks ago, or maybe longer than that, Megan rather sheepishly asked if Kathleen and I would be put out if she and Ryan got married sooner, in a civil ceremony downtown, at the Municipal Building. I assured her that we had no objections whatever; that, in fact, we were relieved. Shortly afterward, we learned that Ryan’s parents felt the same way. Here’s why.
But first: here’s not why: there’s no baby on the way. (My inner grandpapa mutters, “shucks.”)
Here’s why: on the day after Ryan so graciously asked for my blessing — he literally asked for my permission to marry Megan, but of course the blessing was what I could give, and I was mightily happy to give it — Megan began a new job, with International Rescue Committee. In June or thereabouts, the IRC will send her to an international conference of IT workers. (On her application for a marriage license, Megan described herself as a “software developer.” For himself, Ryan favored “software engineer.”) The conference will be held at Entebbe Airport, in Uganda.
That’s a semi-war-torn country in Africa. It’s amazing how quickly personal matters can bring out the inner provincial. Seriously, I was thrilled that Megan would get to go to Africa in circumstances that promised to be both interesting and reasonably safe, but I was not thrilled by the idea of her taking Ryan along (as she almost immediately planned to do) before the two of them were married. One hears that African authorities can be distinctly sniffy about informal relationships. Then there was the health-care dealie. It emerged that Megan missed the boat, somehow, with regard to enrollment in the IRC health-care plan; she will have to wait until the summer to sign up — and to be eligible for benefits. Although she appears to be quite perfectly healthy — blooming like never before, if you want my opinion — a marriage of convenience certainly has its charms, particularly as it will overlay a marriage of love.
The only problem was a classic New Yorker: Megan and Ryan are too busy to get married. That is, they’re too busy to plan so much as a civil ceremony. So Megan threw a virtual dart at the calendar, and it landed on Friday next. When she called to tell me, she sincerely hoped that Kathleen and I would be able to make it, but she and Ryan were getting married on the 25th, no matter what. Â
No matter what, we will be able to make it. And I must say what a great relief it is to have all this settled. Ever since the Municipal Building scheme was floated, I’ve had to fight back the urge to bother Megan daily with a genuinely pressing question: Have you set a date yet? I’m happy to say that I’ve won that fight, but I’m even happier that the fight is over. Now I can get back to regularly-scheduled anxieties.
§ Nones. That was easy. I had to think a bit with PhotoShop Elements, but the learning curve was more of a step-ladder than a slope. The Moo site is fantastically friendly and convenient; it seemed to know my own mind better than I did.
Anything I don’t like about the cards I can fix on the second hundred. Â