More Awesome than Meets the Eye
Jenn & I were in Rhode Island last weekend for >counting on fingers< 39 hours, give or take.
We packed in enough fun and even some unwinding time around Aaron & Jessica’s wedding that when we got home Sunday night, it felt like coming back from a vacation.
Friday night: Bowling – in my case, horribly – with 80-plus people, seeing folks I hadn’t seen in years – like Aaron’s younger brothers, who almost paralleled me and my brothers in age range – full-on 80s pop and rock blaring throughout the alley (“Just a city boy/Born and raised in South Detroi-ooooit…”), and platefuls of wings, potato skins and pizza. Afterwards, running into two of the Spider Monkey guys (more of Aaron’s old pals) back at the hotel, then walking to a nearby bar to hang with my brothers and our wives – I discover Newport Storm‘s got some pretty good stuff, Maynard.
Saturday morning: Walk along the shore with Jenn, sit on the rocks and B.S. with my brother Adam and his wife, eat a mediocre, way over-priced lunch that’s worth it anyway because we’re sitting over the ocean in sun and a nice breeze, then chilling a little before the wedding.
The Wedding: Officiant’s remarks include “Love is ‘More than Meets the Eye.’” Vows cover loving, honoring, protecting, and fighting alongside one another against giant robots and the impending zombie invasion. Aaron & Jessica look like they’re having a ball. So are those of us lucky enough to be there.
Reception: Transformers on the cake. Surreal moment where I realize that my mom is having a chat with one of
the original Takara Transformers designers from back when my brothers were filling their toy shelves in our basement with the things. The DJ unloads a night of more eighties rock, with one significant throwback: Dude plays “Hang on Sloopy.” I don’t know if he realized what he was doing, but within about
three seconds of the song’s start, a dozen or so of us Buckeye Staters are on the floor and there’s no pre-planning at all when we launch into the “O-H-I-O” chorus at the top of our lungs. Heck, we even got a few New Englanders caught up in the fun.
There is “Blister in the Sun” and there is “Let’s Go Crazy” and there is Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes,” for which nobody is on the floor except Jenn and me, and can it possibly be 12 years since we walked down the aisle to that song and got married on her uncle’s back patio?
It is a night of Awesome.
I wake up at 5:30 on Sunday, a half hour before my alarm is set to go off. I decide to go for a short run partly because I’m wide awake, partly because I haven’t run in a week and partly because I want to prove to Jenn that packing my running shoes was not pointless after all.
It’s humid and a little foggy and already pretty warm, and I do about 2.3 miles up and down the coast.
After a shower and breakfast, Jenn & I walk on the beach and pick up small shells, stones, and a piece of sea
glass. The ocean water is numbingly cold, but we stand in it anyway, and its sting still feels fresh in my memory.