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The last few days
Dec. 17th, 2007 10:29 amFriday: spent all day wrestling with the washing machine. Realized in the evening that the damn thing is practically brand new and still under warranty - someone else will come fix it for me if I just call and ask, and they might not even charge me for it. I don't know why this concept is so hard for me to grasp.
Saturday: got up, packed a bag, met up with Mitch and took off for Seattle. We touched down at about 3 pm, got our rental car, checked into the Tru Valu Inn (they eschew "e"s and pass the savings on to us, the customers), dropped my bag and headed out to Issaquah for Phil's memorial. I don't think I can describe it adequately, but it was fantastic. All those people, many of whom I hadn't seen in over a decade and some that I met for the first time, but it was as easy and comfortable as going home is always supposed to be.
I was a little concerned about being around that much Jack Daniels and herbage, what with the emphasis on sobriety in my household in recent times, but it was fine. I drank the communal toast and a few more in memorium and then switched to water and soda for the rest of the evening without any commentary or notice. Nice to know.
And the "rest of the evening" lasted until at least 2 am, when we started trying to figure out exactly who was coming back to the hotel. We probably didn't optimize that solution, but it worked out satisfactorily, with Mary and I following Mitch's magical GPS's directions and Mitch staying behind with the promise to meet us for breakfast so we could make our plane at 11.
Breakfast was some more auld lang syne - everyone bleary-eyed from not enough sleep, blinking at the light, debating protein vs starch, sweet vs savory. Hard as it was to tear ourselves away, we managed to return the rental car and run the airport security gauntlet in time to board almost 10 minutes before takeoff.
Home again, home again, and DH picked us up at the airport. He asked how the memorial service was, and we had to laugh, that sounded way to stuffy, but now that I've given it some thought, that's what it was. For all Phil's iconoclastic nonconformist ways, he was not averse to ritual, and there was certainly some of that in the ceremonial whiskey drinking and the mohawks. More importantly, it was a party that Phil would have loved and we honored him with our sheer enjoyment of each others' company.
Today I am back in my humdrum life, arranging to get the washing machine fixed, debating on when to flip the mattress, whether I will walk the dog or let him run around the yard. And humdrum is fine with me, I am tired of excitement, but I have been reminded to make time for adventures, too. And I will.
Saturday: got up, packed a bag, met up with Mitch and took off for Seattle. We touched down at about 3 pm, got our rental car, checked into the Tru Valu Inn (they eschew "e"s and pass the savings on to us, the customers), dropped my bag and headed out to Issaquah for Phil's memorial. I don't think I can describe it adequately, but it was fantastic. All those people, many of whom I hadn't seen in over a decade and some that I met for the first time, but it was as easy and comfortable as going home is always supposed to be.
I was a little concerned about being around that much Jack Daniels and herbage, what with the emphasis on sobriety in my household in recent times, but it was fine. I drank the communal toast and a few more in memorium and then switched to water and soda for the rest of the evening without any commentary or notice. Nice to know.
And the "rest of the evening" lasted until at least 2 am, when we started trying to figure out exactly who was coming back to the hotel. We probably didn't optimize that solution, but it worked out satisfactorily, with Mary and I following Mitch's magical GPS's directions and Mitch staying behind with the promise to meet us for breakfast so we could make our plane at 11.
Breakfast was some more auld lang syne - everyone bleary-eyed from not enough sleep, blinking at the light, debating protein vs starch, sweet vs savory. Hard as it was to tear ourselves away, we managed to return the rental car and run the airport security gauntlet in time to board almost 10 minutes before takeoff.
Home again, home again, and DH picked us up at the airport. He asked how the memorial service was, and we had to laugh, that sounded way to stuffy, but now that I've given it some thought, that's what it was. For all Phil's iconoclastic nonconformist ways, he was not averse to ritual, and there was certainly some of that in the ceremonial whiskey drinking and the mohawks. More importantly, it was a party that Phil would have loved and we honored him with our sheer enjoyment of each others' company.
Today I am back in my humdrum life, arranging to get the washing machine fixed, debating on when to flip the mattress, whether I will walk the dog or let him run around the yard. And humdrum is fine with me, I am tired of excitement, but I have been reminded to make time for adventures, too. And I will.
