Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Governor's Cup 2015



Last weekend, Dave and I were invited back to shoot the Governor's Cup Awards. It was the same party as last year and in the same place with the same invitees so I felt warmed up before I even got there. It was a lovely scene (my favorite venue in charleston, in fact) with great food and a good band.













Friday, September 25, 2015

Double Whammy Wedding Post


This post contains some destination photography as well as photos of wedding celebrations. Last weekend the lot of us Union’s trekked down to the Dominican Republic to celebrate the uniting of one of Chris’ brothers with his beautiful girlfriend Randa. T’was a wild and lovely affair.
So I will first enchant you with scenery. We stayed in a beach resort that we were advised not to leave until we go to the airport to fly home. Charming huh?
It was very large and very beautiful and Chris’ family members and the wedding party seemed to make up a quarter of the hotel's guests. As you wandered from meal to meal each day, you would pass Randa’s sweet mother or perhaps a gaggle of Stephane’s groomsmen. You would give each other knowing smiles and then continue on to the pool or the lunch buffet.
We spent two days lounging by the pool and beach and having grand dinners with the family and friends.





At night, us young folks stayed out late dancing. Ellen stayed true to character and went to bed before everyone else leaving poor Chris to dance with himself. Thankfully I was there to step in and Chris twirled and spun me so well that people cleared the floor to watch us dance. It was very embarrassing. I spent my downtime befriending other 4th string wedding guests. I was, after all, the groom’s brother’s wife’s sister and not really an old friend of either party. Stephane and Randa are world’s kindest people though and not only invited me but made me feel welcome and like I had been their friend all along. All of their friends were lovely and their families seemed happy that “Elle’s whole family came!” I’m sure it’s not hard to imagine that Dad was a favorite among the groomsmen and I was complimented on him regularly.


On wedding day, Chris was sent off to the bar with the groomsmen and Ellen was captured for several hours of intensive grooming and making over. Mom, Dad, and I hung out by the pool, had lunch, took naps, and then threw ourselves together a few minutes before the wedding. The wedding was here on this rooftop.


It was a very fast ceremony during which the sun blazed down on everyone’s sunburned skin and Randa’s rowdy boy cousins managed to kick over an isle marker, sending warm water rushing out of the vase and down the isle with a loud shatter. Dad thought it was a riot and later gave them warm pats on the back for a job well done.

We made our way from the wedding sight to a ballroom where we were served a lovely dinner that we ate during speeches and first dances. To help you understand the crowd of people present, I can tell you that few people even finished their dinner before they were on the dance floor. Lots of Chris’ aunts and uncles forwent their sirloins in favor of shimmies and twists and by the time dessert came no one was in their chair. Mom was up and dancing just after her dessert, though she took a quick break for wedding cake and was back on the floor in no time. Even Dad busted a few moves much to the delight of all of his new friends. I barely saw Ellen that night. It was the only night of the trip she was out late talking and dancing and she was so invested in the fun she didn’t notice that it was 3 a.m. when she went to bed.

I took about 7 pictures the whole time. These photos I have were all gathered from Facebook pages and various peoples girlfriends who sent me things because I asked them to. I feel guilty taking pictures at weddings with my good camera. I don't want the photography team to feel like I'm challenging them so I just make myself wait to see the pictures like everyone else.

Before I just leave a bunch of photos, you should know that Ellen posed with an iguana while a monkey sat on my head. The little monkey, Brenda, stabled herself by sticking her little fingers in my ears and I was so happy I couldn't stand it. I've always wanted to hold a monkey.



Also, I'd like you all to stop and appreciate Chris' Popeye face.


All right, here are wedding photos. Starting with the newlyweds.





These are all of the Villard boys and their new brother-in law, Nader, over on the left there. Next to him is Claude, Chris, Oliver, and Stephane.


These are all of the Villard boys' girlfriends. Randa and her giant smile on the right, Amy next to me in the green is engaged to Oliver, and Jessica (the most lovely human. Actually, they're all very lovely.) is talking marriage with Claude.









This was a lovely wedding but it was the people that made it so much fun. They were all so welcoming and lively. I hope I see them all again someday.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Homesick at Home


I realize that I've really let my blogging slide. It was an accident. I promise!
I am perpetually heckled for my subpar reporting skills and loosing touch with my own Laura-time. It's taking it's toll I tell you. I used to be so organized. Now I have piles. Paperwork, house work, my poor car suddenly keeps having problems. Did I tell you my brakes went out on me and I causally rolled into oncoming traffic?! No one was harmed, except for Kona's ego. (Kona is my trusty 4Runner sidekick. We've done everything together.)

Today I'd like to complain about 9-5 jobs. What a ruckus. Do they not realize you have no time for you? And your piles? I'm so sore and tired when I get home that I can't make myself do anything. What is that? I hate it. So when a day off rolls around I only want to play and take naps but I have to tend to my piles and then the whole day is gone. How do people balance these things? How do people keep up with blogs??

I'm also angy because summer is over and I got very little dock time this year. We sure had a busy summer. Quitting jobs, crossing the globe, starting new jobs, foreign weddings, friend visits, etc. There was no time for Buddy and the Big Pink Kayak and now that things are settling down it all makes me very sad. I've had very little Sit and Think About Life Time and you that's what makes me happy.

I realized the sensation I've been feeling for a while now is homesickness but it doesn't go away when I'm home. It drifts off a bit when I'm out on the dock but it comes back as soon as it's time to come in. Budds and I did venture out just before sunset the other day and I took a few pictures with my phone. It was so beautiful out. The photos look like pictures of paintings.




I'd like to think that I'm getting into a routine. It's been about 6-weeks with the new gig and while I've put away my Australia laundry, I now have Dominican Republic laundry to do and I need to do that fast before I add Williamsburg laundry to that pile. Which by the way Dad, I think my dryer is broken. Come have a look. And while you're at it:
-My mattress hurts my back. A lot.
-I need you to call Comcast and threaten them for me.
-And how do you clean stainless steel?

I really need some outdoor time. I feel homesick for somewhere I've never lived. Somewhere with lots of space. I want countryside and hills. I want Kentucky. Oh! Or Virginia!

I think I need some Big Lu time. Look how scattered my thoughts are.
I'm usually so calm.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

The Green Pillow

Remember a year ago when I broke into Omar’s new Portland apartment and decorated the place while he was away on business? I purchased for him two throw pillows for his black, Craigslist sofa. As most men folk take little interest in throw pillows, home good stores tend to offer such products only in a variety of girly colors and prints. I was disheartened to see a wall of pillows boasting only floral patterns and sewn-on rinestones.
I immediately snatched up the only masculine pillow I could find; a medium-grey feather pillow made of a canvas-like material. Subtle and manly. I thought, searching for one more to make a set. There was no second grey pillow to be found and Omar’s dingy Craigslist couch could not pull off an asymmetrical pillow display. I needed one more. I searched and toiled over this decision. Royal blue or a deep maroon? 
Too cheerful. Too drab! and then I saw a green pillow. A green pillow that I thought would make almost no statement. It wasn’t dark enough to be the green pillow of a mysterious man’s library nor was it happy enough to live in a gay man’s sunroom. And most of all, it was almost the exact shade of green as used in the Palestinian flag. The flag of Omar’s homeland that hung proudly on one wall of his living room. So I bought that green pillow too, a very comfortable down-pillow covered in masculine burlap.
I brought my loot back to Omar’s new home and I plugged in lamps, hung pictures, and thoughtlessly tossed those pillows onto the sofa. When I picked Omar up from the airport and drove him to his apartment, I hopped out of the car and followed him up the stairs. I was excited to see his reaction to his new place. 
“May I help you? he asked pleasantly as he put the key in the door. He stopped and looked at me. “I’m doing great!” I said, grinning awkwardly and letting small giggles bubble up in my throat. Omar gave me a look of concern and then swung open his front door.

Omar was elated. He loved where I hung his pictures and was excited to have a bedside lamp. “I’ve never even had a bedside table before!” he told me. “And to have a lamp on it! You’ve made my house a home!” he shouted and he ran around opening drawers and turning on lights and giggling and then suddenly he stopped.
He stared at his sofa. Omar folded his hands together and held them under his chin. 
“Hey bubba?” he asked me, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” I said.
“That.” and he let go of his hands and pointed.
“What?”
“That green pillow.” he said professionally with a smile, as though he was preparing to give an employee some constructive criticism.
“What do you mean? It’s a pillow.” I said with concern.
“Bubba.” he said cheerfully. “I hate it!” and he looked at me expectantly as though he’d told me he loved it.
I smiled back at him. Confused.
“That color! It doesn’t match anything in this room.” he beamed “Why would you buy that pillow?”  
“It’s the same as your flag.” I said through clenched teeth, a friendly smile across my face.
“Not even close! They’re totally different greens.” he said joyfully.

I reminded him that I went to art school and got an A+ in color mixing and so the friendliest argument that ever was took place that day in Omar’s living room.
From that point on, Omar avoided the green pillow. I noticed it in the corner every time I came over and I would pick it up and put it back on the sofa. When I came back from the bathroom it had been tossed on the floor. When I returned with a glass of water it had been stuffed under the sofa.
Omar would bound towards the couch with glee and in the same motion managed to toss the pillow from the sofa, settle in, and have no expression on his face that suggested anything was abnormal about what he had done.

About two months ago Omar called me on Skype. He had moved into a new place and was giving me the tour. As he panned through his new living room I briefly saw the grey pillow in a bar chair next to a stack of boxes. We chatted for a while and I asked him where the green pillow was. A look I’d never seen on confident, professional Omar spread across his guilty face.
“They’re still at the other place. I haven’t moved them yet.” he said.
“Omar Muhummad Abdulhadi. Why are you lying to me?" I said calmly
“No bubba! I mean it!”
“The grey pillow is on your bar stool by the kitchen.” I told him. He looked up with concern, spotted the grey pillow and let out a blasting nervous laugh.
“What have you done!” I shouted. “What have you done!! You threw it away!”
“I did not throw it away.” he said with such conviction that I knew this was true.
“You gave it to someone! How could you give such a special pillow to a complete stranger? I bought you that pillow. I made your house a home!!” I screamed.
“I didn’t! I’ll go get it. I promise. It’s at the old place. I’ll go get it tomorrow!” he pleaded.

The expression on Omar face made me laugh and made me nervous. We hung up the call without him ever convincing me that the green pillow was actually obtainable. I’d never seen this bizarre reaction from such a perpetually doubtless and cool-headed person. I thought about this strange encounter for a few days, when a box arrived on my doorstep.
Inside were lots of things from Omar’s recent trip to Jordan for his brother’s wedding.  Middle-eastern candies and trinkets, a t-shirt, and he even threw in the socks they give you on the airplane. I rummaged happily through this box, munching on candied almonds and making out my name in Arabic when I saw it. Stuffed down in the very bottom of the box, mashed into an unnatural shape was the green pillow.

When I spoke to him he said that he had just gotten back from mailing the box when we skyped that day and I asked about the pillow. “You hadn’t mentioned that pillow in months.” he said. “It messed with my mind!”
He told me that he had been thinking and even though he had just mailed me the pillow he wanted it back.
 “I didn’t expect it to be such an ordeal. Now it’s a special pillow and I want it back. It’s got such a great story!”

I told him that the pillow is going to live with me now and that we don’t need him to be happy. Last week I mailed him his favorite apricot jam and the following picture book.











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