Valentine's Day "Poem"

I hate the cloying conspiracy of Valentine's Day, nearly as much as I hate most institutions and large organizations. Humbug. But I love TWIL.

Rejected Inscriptions for a Wedding Ring

I’ll lasso the moon for you.

For as long as we both can bear it.
So much better than nothing.
I had my fingers crossed. Psyche!

Is it the moon you want?

My deepest gratitude
for lowering your expectations.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Oh, oh! Oh! Oooh! You’re the best!

On bad days, think “death is coming.”
Don’t cry. I’m sorry.

Love, panic, resignation. Repeat.
This ring does not make you look fat.
What was I saying?

The moon is taken. Have my heart.

Rah-cha-cha! (Read "Rochester")

For those of you in the back of the room, a little review.

We wanted...

• A place where we could settle for a few days and invite friends,
• An outdoor location for the wedding,
• A grassy place big enough for the reception tent,
• Enough privacy to prevent the police from interrupting "Twist and Shout."
• A place that we could make beautiful with our own hands and help from People Who Love Us (PWLU)

Months ago, I observed, "Your dad's place has lawn enough. Too bad it's in Rochester." When we joked about the idea to Lee (TWIL's Dad) and Fran, they said they'd be glad to have the wedding. Which is just like them. But it was just conversation and we let it drop.

When the Rochester wedding notion came up in passing since July, it was a way of saying how frustrated TWIL and I were about finding a wedding house near the water. Remember, we have been searching since July 2006.

After Gatsby- and Martha-like illusions were stripped from our imaginations, Rochester and Lee's back yard offered the fewest complications. And if other locations presented obstacles we'd already sussed out, how hard would reality have bit me in the pale, pale ass?

Then again, Rochester? Hotels? Lower prices. Summer rentals? Close by. Family friendly? Very. Airport? Check. Driving distance? For most folks, principally our families. Familiar? Very, without being so familiar that it's bred contempt. And our friends, who do not live in Rochester, are better able to get up and go there, we think.

Remember Elise, the lady who wanted us to rent her house, but didn't want us to actually have a wedding too near by? Well, by contrast, Lee and Fran said first that they're willing, then that they're honored. Obviously, we asked them at the right moment - before they realized what they're getting into.

"Rochester - because it's easier" is our new motto and mantra. And that crack about "too bad it's in Rochester?" That lip-smacking sound is me eating my words.

The new date:

Saturday, September 1, 2007.

Watch for links from this date forward about what Rah-cha-cha as to offer that no other city built on the technology of the last century can hold a candle - er, LED - to. Here's what I mean.
Until the end of April this year, a luxury excursion:

A one-hour escorted driving tour of Rochester. Admission and tour of the George Eastman House for two people. Lunch for two at La-Tea-Da Tea House, including any lunch menu entree, drink, scone for dessert, tax and gratuity. Package price $98.00 per couple. Driving tour in purchaser's vehicle or through pre-arranged transportation with Carpe Diem Travel.

This offer not available in any of your big-city dee-lux Boston stores! No sir.

Whither, Bliss?

As if Christmas were not enough to knock us into January, where light and heat are scarce, we've been killing off our darlings. Well, that's what it's called writing. The clever phrase, the startling logical leap. They've got to go.

Seaside house? Gone. Pocasset was our second choice. But the good folks there gave us a belated maximum guest count of eighty five. One of you would not have been able to come. So, we looked North to Maine, and here in Boston again.

I struggled to find a story to tell you about why that beautiful warehouse space in Boston was worth considering, until we learned that the package starts - yes, starts - at $22,000. (Three zeros, not a typo.) And where's the drama in the icy, snowy visit to a Maine house that TWIL loved. The nice lady kept saying it's possible while also saying no. She was encouraging, and it was impossible. We could have the wedding, but next door. It wasn't a story. It was just spooky.

And then to the place that I loved, still farther North in Camden ME, where there was no punchline either. We went so far North that I feared it was Bhutan to our guests and the way there a death march to our joyous day. Hell, it's a five hour trip from Boston, allowing for traffic! The rambling place would still be perfect for friends, who it turns out could not come for the pre-wedding idyll we envisioned. And so we let the vision fade.

That's what we've been doing. Killing our darlings: Plan A, the destination house on the shore. Plan B: the modern, elegant location here in the city where we live (nearly). I won't go into the ideas that never reached "plan" status.

We would not have killed these dears and darlings if we hadn't had an ace in our hand. We'd have been over a wallet-extracting barrel, as many people end up. Our ace - I call it the knife in our sock, that is, the way you ward off the wedding thugs in the alley - turns out to beat the house.

Tomorrow: The NEW DATE and Playing the Ace.