Wedding Pt 4

Some thoughts on the night.

I learned that this venue where the festivities took place is a “castle” where they will not even entertain reservations for a fete under six figures.

We drove up to a gate that entered a rounded cul’d sac in the truest sense. It was a round walled off area with 4 or 6 statues in niches in the wall. The road continued up a long graveled drive with exquisitely manicured trees lining each side. It ended at a gate house that you drove under and into a cobble stone court yard.

A valet met us and we unloaded for the night.

Dude, do not take my car! I have done valet only once. It seems unnatural to hand a complete unknown youth the keys to a car only 6 months old.

We entered the grand foyer with a coat room to the left and a valet/attendant room to the right. The grand staircase:

At the top was a second foyer with a round table holding cards with our table assignments for the night.

Two men played stunningly beautiful classical music on violins, but it was almost lost in the din of over a hundred voices.

I met people K has told me of for ten years. Some I met 4 years ago at the christening of K’s first nephew. I met K’s cousins and aunts and uncles and second cousins… you get the idea.

Then we shuffled into the wedding hall, I wrote about that already. I noted the abundance of yarmulkes and saw one fall off a head. That is where the thought of bobby pins, not god holding them on came to me.

I laughed at the string quartet playing “All You Need is Love” and struggled to remember what movie I had seen that done in. I still can’t remember.

The rooms were magnificent in the true sense of the word.

In the room with shrimp and vegetable noshes, there was a picture of the castle before restoration. In the statuary alcoves in this room, someone had spray painted a Pac Man ghost in one. To look at it now, it was resplendent and humming with noshers.

The other room with food had a fire place and high ceilings. I looked out the doors to the “lawn” It was out of a European castle in that it was a long grass yard that ran the length of the castle. It was bordered on its edge by a low stone balustrade.

The dining room where over 25 tables were set for 12 people, was oval with glass windows 6 or 7 feet high looking out onto the “lawn”.

It had a wooden floor in the center, for dancing, and I do not remember if it was parquet or not.

The center piece of each table was a large glass vase with budding cherry blossom branches, encircled by smaller vases with white hydrangea and pink roses.

Large glass chandeliers hung over the dance floor and wall sconces soft lit the walls.

The too loud band murdered almost everything: Bon Jovi, AC/DC, The Outfield and an atrocious free form rap in the middle of Gloria Gainor’s “I Will Survive”. No mercy was shown or given to Run Around Sue, Don’t Stop Believing or C C Rider, which the band played about 4 times.

I do not dance. From long history, I just don’t.

The band launched into Billy Joel’s New York State of Mind and K took me to the dance floor.

We were dancing to a native Long Islander’s music, in a castle, in New York. We are here.

This was as if to say we have arrived where we are supposed to be for now. All was right with the world.

Peace

C

Wedding Pt 3

Dancing.

The father of the bride danced with his wife and they both danced well. There was one wonderful young lady in a stunning ivory dress that danced with graceful abandon, uninhibited.

Then it got crazy.

There is a Jewish tradition of the Hava Nagila dance. People join hands in a big circle and do a step twist step kind of thing that was really catchy. I really think everyone was on their feet for that. At one point, the bride and groom were lifted into the air on chairs and paraded around in a circle.

Some thoughts:

The yarmulke stays in place with hair pins, not the will of god as I saw many fall off in the Jewish mosh pit the dance floor became.

The little dude in the Yarmulke could DANCE!!

The band had to be flexible enough to destroy pop songs but have the ability to play Jewish traditional tunes as well. Almost brought them up in my eyes, almost.

Because the parents of one of the lucky couple had a long police career, there were a lot of police types there. Several times, men in suits, no smiles, walked by and looked at my glass to see what I was drinking (H20 as you who know me understand) look at my belt line, my shoes and then my eyes. Then they would dismiss me. It felt like I was being sized up as a potential threat. Interesting to say the least.

By now, many of the older people in the crowd had turned off their hearing aids. Amplified horribly horrible music is, well, horrible! So the conversation was even louder.

Then the bride and groomy cut their cake. It was a nice cake.

We were served desert. A chocolate cake, a cheese cake and a small chocolate cup filled with raspberries and blueberries. Wow! And then we all got a piece of the wedding cake.

Burp!!!

Wedding Pt 2

The opening act was a beautiful salad with a delicate vinaigrette to compliment the field greens, bordered by a raspberry reduction drizzle with two big candied chest nuts at the corners, a cube of the most wicked bleu cheese ever and an orchid flower anchoring the other two corners.

I did not notice, until my brother in law pointed it out. You could tell I was not from around here. I ate all my dandelion green salad, the cheese and the walnuts. Most people at our table only ate the cheese or nuts. K and I ate it all! Hmmmmm, ok, it was not iceberg lettuce so no self respecting Long Islander or New Yorker was going to eat it. Pity, it was superb!

When the salad was served, the band played quiet dinner music and conversation was had at a near normal level. There was a lot of talking since no one was eating the salad.

Then, as the fantastic servers were clearing and setting up for the entrees, the band got back into it. The sheer volume of the band was surpassed only by its magnificent butchery of music.

The first notable sacrifice was so bad, K almost did not recognize the song “Boogie Oogie Oogie” by A Taste of Honey. K loves disco music, it was her era and she has many fond memories of school and friends around that music. But she almost missed that it was a song she knew and liked.

They played the first dance for the couple and it was one of my favorites, a song I sing to the dogs sometimes, when we are dancing around the house or doing chores Dream a Little Dream of Me. A dance for dad and daughter to “I Loved Her First”. Then more overly loud crap until the entrees.

OK, Here it got wow.

Apple sage stuffed chicken

fillet mignon

or Chilean sea bass (they spared no expense).

K had chicken, bro in law had fillet, I had the sea bass.

I have never had Chilean sea bass before. It was done medium so the outer edges were firm and the middle was soft. The flavor of the fish was so subtle that the accompanying sauce was ideal and ample. The band was sedate again and there was not as much talk as people ate, having waited over a half hour since the offending weeds and raspberry drizzle was set before them.

Then more dancing….

The Wedding Pt 1

Weddings...
A lot can be said about them.
A new beginning, the end of freedom, hope springs eternal.... pick your favorite.
K and I went to a wedding of one of her family members.
Now, there are weddings where you elope and tell no one, those where there are a few special guests, ones where the families come and then there are once in a lifetime shin digs that defy, well, explanation.
I am going to try, in several posts I am sure, to describe this one.
Where ever to begin?
A man and a woman came together to be joined in holy wed lock.
It was a Jewish/Catholic shared ceremony. That was a first to me.
I was raised in Leave it to Beaver Land where minorities were so rare........
SO the string quartet played Pachabel, exquisitely as the 9 groomsmen and 5 brides maids walked the aisle. Than the groomy and then the Bride with loving father to hand her off, er, give her hand.
The invocations in Yiddish and American English took place. I have never heard that much Yiddish. But the Rabbi, when speaking American, sounded a little like a bad Al Pachino imitation.
The groom stomped on a glass, we all yelled "Mazel tav!"
The quartet played "All You Need is Love" as the newly weds and the wedding party exited.
Much milling about and a bee line for the open bar ensued, like slow cattle to a free flowing river.
There were two feeding stations for noshing, one was veggies and salami and cheese and crackers and such. The other had an Oriental food bar, a fillet mignon and turkey breast carving station, an Italian pasta bar and seafoods. There was one bar open for shrimp, only shrimp.
Then, over an hour and a half since the nuptials x 2, the main meal was announced...
We all went into a huge ass ornate room with a band playing so loud, you had to yell to your seating mate to be heard. We searched for and found our table. I have always wondered at how they do the seating at a wedding. The pattern at this one was familial, cousins with cousins, immediate family with immediate family.
They announced the parents of the happy couple and then, in a manner any stadium announcer would have envied, they announced the Bride and Groom.
Then it got weird-er.

C

Reality check please

I have striven, in the last decade, to reduce that place of judgment I sit in when I see or meet new people. I try, with thought and effort, to not pre-judge a person by looks, speech patterns, behaviors.
But there is a nurse at hospital one that I just can not stand. It is almost irrational, to me at least, that I should dislike someone so much just from watching his actions, listening to his comments.
I had a strong moment the other day, where i really wanted to go off on this guy.
All hospitals have codes they call out on the public address system. these codes let staff know if there is a fire, a heart attack, an emergent medical situation, potentially violent person, bomb threat, you get the idea.
We had a code for more man power called and this guy get weird.
He brought up a story that a person in Georgia shot and killed people at a local hospital. He starts ranting that in a call for more man power, bodies to show up at a location for a show of force or a potential work group to manage the situation.
He wondered, quite aloud, is rushing toward a place with a violent armed person might get more people hurt or killed.
I will admit he has a good point. BUT...
He was ranting in a loud voice at the nurses station where patients and patient families could hear him.
This bothered me on several levels.
One: Any person visiting a hospital has enough stress as is being in a strange, often smelly environment with worry and concern for their loved one. The last thing they need is to hear a hospital staff getting loud about an internal matter.
Two: He kept saying he would like to know if the person is armed so he can run away form the danger, not into it. Interesting. I try not to judge. If this man was from New York, he just completely dishonored every victim of 9-11. Further more, he expounded he would hide behind a refrigerator. Most nurses I know would shield their patients from further harm.
Three: I do not know this man's history, but I have run toward the violence to render aid to the fallen. His ranting upset me beyond what I felt it should.
K would tell me to put myself in his shoes, understand what his motivations are. In this case, I don't care to. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he has past traumas and wants to protect himself from ever facing the same again. Maybe he isn't getting laid. Maybe he lost a family member to violence.
But I just wanted to slap him.
I will probably talk to his supervisor on Monday and point out my concern of his loud voicing of the situation. But I just don't like the guy.
Oh, yeah, he is a charge nurse.
Shit.

Keep your corner of the world clean, that is all you can do. Hope the other guy keeps his clean. Do not be so surprised when the other guy doesn't keep his corner of the world clean.

C

How many restaurants...

K and I like to eat out. K says, to her, eating out is cheaper and just about as therapeutic as going to see a psychologist.
So we had a wonderful mid week day off together and thought we'd go try a new tea room.
In Hamsterville, the tea room was cozy but not crowded, or noisy. We went to the nearest tea room and found the noise level high, the tables very close together and we need to have called 24 hours in advance for tea service. Our Hamster tea place would fix you up a high tea with tea sandwiched, a savory, fruit, and a desert all with your own pot of tea. Not this joint. We left.
We turned down another restaurant because it looked more like an ice cream parlor that just also happened to serve food. That is risky enough, but in the off season, no dice.
We then tried a place K has told me about for years and points out every time we drive by. We entered a beautiful victorian themed restaurant and a nice maitre d' took our coats. We sat and noticed it was a prix fixe menu for 25.00! The offering were all certainly tasty sounding but way too heavy. All K wanted was finger sandwiched and a nice delicate salad.
OY!
Then they came to the table with two bottles of water and asked which we would like. All credit to Waiterrant, I wanted source municipal.
We left that place too, smelling of too much potpourri.
We went to an old favorite and had a consistently excellent meal.
The search for a new tea room to spend over an hour eating and recharging will go on. We crossed two places off the list, one we might go back to.
Pity.

The search goes on.

C

On the other hand

OK, so my last post was a rant.
Sue me.

What I feel is needed is the other side.
Those that have been knocked down by stroke, illness, accident and do not give up at all.

One example is the athlete. I have to say that my athletics extends to what I do with my mouse finger, walking the dogs and an occasional bike ride.
But the athlete. They are driven by goals, standards, a history of performance.
When I am used to working with the average older person who is slowing down, the physically fit athllete makes me think to keep up with them.
They actually have to be told to stand down, step back, give the body a chance to heal before they consider full bore living again.

Or you have the home maker busy body that is retired and still is on the go from early AM to PM and does not know how to let themselves slow down, can not let the foot off the throttle.
They are the ones that think they can do more than they can. Ms Smith will have a good transfer in one PT session and then try it on her own. Sometimes a fall occurs, sometimes nothing happens and no one is ever the wiser. but human nature seems to make the person confess. They see you are busting your ass to help them learn how to maximize their abilities and they want to tell you "Hey, I transfered from the wheel chair to the bed by my self last night!"
"was there a nurse present?"
"No." with an incredulous look on the surprise and slightly saddened face.
Here comes lecture 227.2 and I pull no punches. I get gray hairs on my arms and in my beard from these people, but on the inside I am so happy they TRIED it. It is a conflict for me, but then I can walk through it and trouble shoot to make it safer, more consistent.
Then they practice it more and more the safe and correct way. The day they reveal it to their loved ones, I am vindicated and smile to myself.
I was the teacher, that is my knowledge and skill being demonstrated to the family and the smiles are on those faces from what the patient and I did together.
It pays for some of the gray hairs.

Got sick and shared a head cold thing with K last week so no work for me.
Things are moving along.

Be well.

C