Trevor and I were hugely thankful to have something wonderful to celebrate this month: Neill and Fran's wedding! The two got married on Saturday, March 17, St. Patrick's Day, and the same day the Power siblings' dad, John, married their mom, Maureen.
Maureen on her wedding day
The wedding was truly perfect--the weather was beautiful, the couple was beautiful and didn't seem to stop smiling all day and night, and I danced until my feet were numb (I even got T. on the dance floor for three [three!] slow dances).
Here's the day in a pictorial nutshell.
John and Fran Power (we'll now call her Fran Power #1)
Fran's mom and Rachel, lighting candles
Trevor, ushing
The groomsmen and the groom
Fran's nephew Devin, the cutest ring bearer
Sadie Power, the awesome flower girl
The groom, watching his beautiful bride come up the aisle
Some lovely words from the pastor
The vows
The kiss!
We're married!
The new Mr. and Mrs. Power with the other Mr. and Mrs. Power and Fran's parents
Fran, Destiny, and Neill
The new Power couple with Power siblings
Rae, T., Neill, Sean
The flower girl and her parents, Angi and Sean
The groom shows off his new jewelry
Letty, hanging out at the reception
Sadie took the dance floor ASAP
Letty and Rae with Jim and Grandma & Grandpa Madel
Introducing the new Mr. & Mrs. Power!
Neill steals a kiss from his lovely bride
The cake was beautiful and delicious
First dance
Aren't they perfect?
After dinner we spent about three solid hours doing this. Then we all collapsed.
We ended the night by filling up bags of candy from the candy table (which I got a picture of that night but can't find now; just picture a big table covered in huge glass containers filled with candy: gummy bears, Skittles, M&Ms, Tootsie Pops, Blow Pops, Swedish fish...). I ambled up to our hotel room and Trevor hung out with the post-wedding crew, which included the bride and groom. They hung out until the wee hours, playing cards, eating pizza, and having a wonderful time.
So, raise a glass (or a mug if you're still on your a.m. coffee like me) and toast to the greenest St. Patrick's newlyweds in town. XO.
Trevor and I are unhappy to have to break the news that Henry, the best dog in the world, passed away on March 8, 2012.
This past May, Henry developed cancer, and although he beat it and got better, his health was never quite the same. He was diagnosed with a bowel disease this winter and, after a couple of months of losing weight and inconsistent eating, his health deteriorated further.
We didn't write about this immediately because, frankly, it was too hard. But over the summer we didn't tell many people about Henry's cancer, and that didn't feel right, either; so we figured we'd let everyone know and show some happy images of Henry doing some of his favorite things.
Henry especially liked it when he got to get dressed up. Although Trevor liked to believe that Henry didn't like this, I knew the truth. Does this look like the face of a dog who didn't like to be dressed up? Please.
Just doing a bit of reading.
What's up, player?
Yes, I can do your taxes.
Does this make me look fat?
Shark Face!
Henry also liked to be outdoors, and he made a lot of trips to Door County with me and Trevor.
Hi.
No, I absolutely did not eat any snow. No way.
But, although Henry had boundless energy, he also liked to relax and enjoy the quiet moments.
With his cousin, Pepper
At Jim's cabin in the Door
After a giant Thanksgiving dinner with Adam
On a Tuesday...
Wednesday...
Thursday...
What do you mean I "won't fit"?
Henry was always happy. In fact, he got so happy that he developed "Happy Tail Syndrome" and we had to dock his poor tail into a nubbin. But that nubbin never stopped wagging and he was always trying to give everyone giant slurping smooches and looking to cuddle up with someone.
What is that, a camera? Can I kiss it?
Um, Maya, can I have that blue guy, please?
Happy Tail Before, Nubbin After
Smooch attack
Henry also liked art.
Well I like that sculpture, but this horse is quite nice, too.
These are part of my collection. Yes, you may photograph me with them.
Poster art is art, too.
And graffiti is some of my favorite. Irreverence is valuable.
And Henry was irreverent himself, too.
No, I won't look at the camera.
Comin attcha, man. Look out.
But more than anything, Henry liked to pose for pictures. He was handsome and he knew it.
I realized, after going through the blog archives to look for some of my favorite pictures, that Henry made it into almost every single post I have written over the past six years. So, even if you didn't know him in person, odds are that you have read about some of his hijinks. And if you did know him, you remember his Chewbacca like yawn, his giant head, and his wagging butt (and if you ever spent the night at our place you remember his tongue in your eye at six a.m.). We miss Henry more than anything, and there will never be another dog like him. Thanks for sharing him with us.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
What Has Henry Been Up To Lately?
He went for a bath at Soggy Paws in Logan Square (his fashionable head wear is meant to calm him down while we used a dryer on him. it did not work)
He got a new jacket and new boots for the winter
And he rocked his new outfit all over the neighborhood
He found some shorts on the sidewalk
He revealed to us that he is, in fact, a superdog
And then he ran away to save the city from canine criminals
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Obviously, we haven't posted anything in quite some time, and the explanation for that is to come at a time in the near future.
But for now, I'd like to do a short post on Christmas, which is quickly upcoming.
Tonight I hosted my monthly book club (which is worthy of at least half a dozen posts itself) and, of course, did it up in holiday style, with gingerbread cookies (not terribly good), some excellent cheese from Green Grocer, a terrific Tastefully Simple Fiesta dip I got from Fran's sister, and a macaroni & cheese dish I got from Amy Sedaris's I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence, which was an enormous hit. Amy S. (not Sedaris, another "S") brought delicious pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, and everyone else brought wine or Frango Mints.
We talked about Jane Austen's Emma, our latest read, and the conversation, as always, was good. But that's not really what this post is about. This post is really about Christmas, and sadness, which, unfortunately, go hand in hand.
The first time I heard, and saw Judy Garland sing this was when I was in college, during one of a number of film studies classes I took while still entertaining the idea that I would eventually be a film director, and I was doing a shot-by-shot analysis of Meet Me In St. Louis. And it's only because of this assignment that I know this particular Judy Garland musical better than I probably should. And it's because of this assignment that I have a very special place in my heart for "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," for Judy Garland, and for the sadness of Christmas.
Watching Garland sing this classic to a very young Margaret O'Brien, knowing that the family would soon be moving and leaving everything behind; watching Garland sing to O'Brien, whose little eyes filled with tears; watching Garland, so young, red-lipped, and so beautiful, sing while looking mournfully out the window and into a winter night, is just wonderful. It's so wonderful, actually, that I'd forgotten how much I loved it and how sad it made me until I heard it about twenty times over the course of five hours this afternoon as I chopped green peppers and accidentally beheaded little gingerbread men while moving them from baking sheet to plate. It is a song that captures the hopefulness and the nostalgia of Christmas all at once. It looks both to the future as well as to the past, and, unfortunately for the characters, looks to the present only as a place holder. I heard Bing and Ella and Frank sing it today, and they sang it beautifully: Frank, with his slow, low whisper; and Ella, with her voice strong, clear, and powerfully energizing. But they couldn't sing it the right way. No one will sing it like Judy Garland. No one but her can sing this song and make the lyrics, and me, cry like she can--cry those big fat tears like Margaret O'Brien's tears, tears that sit in the corners of your eyes and wait a few minutes before dripping down your warm, red cheeks. Because ultimately, it's a devastating song. It's a song that shouldn't try to be happy or cute or popular. It's a song that should embrace the holiday, the season, and the sentiment. The sadness.
