A Self-Focused Report

Ahh as I reflect back upon the past year (thats what I'm supposed to be doing, right?) I've realized its the first one that I can't really remember. That's not saying much because I can't remember most things that happen unless they are trivial. For instance, I can remember the names of all four brothers of this guy I went out with one time when I was 19, but can I remember what year it was when Olivia was born? Not a chance. 

But per my initial statement up there, I mean that this year chugged along with a sense of chaos and limbo and that makes for disconnected events punctuated by busy-ness, bouts of introversion, and lots of making decisions for future Lue. Thats something I've learned from Brett. He walks around everyday making decisions that will positively affect his future. Can you imagine?

When I'm stumped about something, he asks, "What will Future Lue wish you had done?" and I don't like when he asks me that, because I have to assume Future Lue will just be as lazy as Present Lue and she will understand why I chose what I chose at the time. "Well, she wanted to nap that day," I'll say to myself as Future Lue, looking back on the poor decisions of Past Lue, "I get that."

So sometimes I try to consider Future Me but that almost always means I have to work harder. 

When the year started, Brett and I thought we were going to leave our jobs and life behind to be traveling citizens of the world. This kept never happening because Brett couldn't find a convenient time to quit his job and I kept looking at houses for sale. That's how life gets you. 

As the year is ending, I'm further shackled to society by having made commitments (both time and monetary) to people and organizations beyond myself and my family. 

In the last few months I have made the decision to close down ole Lux n' U so that I can focus more on my animal advocacy work. I will finish the 2023 Spring season and then pack up my clippers and foam. This is a bittersweet decision because I've never done anything like Lux before and who da thunk I could pull that off? But I did! It's been paying for my life for nearly seven years and I still feel like I'm getting away with something illegal. So turning in my self-run freedom is the bitter part of closing the doors. 

The sweet part is giving into the bridal burnout and just telling people "no" when I don't want to do something. I never tell Lux people no. The other sweet part is refocusing my time and efforts on this strange new concept... something I'm interested in. What? Is this that motivating passion thing?

When my semester ends in March, I'll be halfway through my grad school program. Does that feel fast to you because I don't talk about it much? No one really acknowledges that I'm in school so I don't get to talk about it. I'll go ahead and tell you that I really love it and my drowsy eyes have been opened to a world of systems and trials and opportunities. Why don't you learn these kinds of good things in middle school? Additionally, all the people in my program are the most lovely, compassionate, slightly-strange-in-a-good-way, creative types and I'm very excited to get to meet them all this coming June when I have to go to the school in-person for a class they can't do online.

Ferguson attends Grad school.

While I will begin/resume a proper job search in the animal advocacy world soon, in the meantime I'm working on a presentation I have to give for a big national nonprofit that focuses on ethics and the like. This will be the second non-profit that has had me present juicy goodness to their members and I find it scary, amusing, and confusing. Apparently, people like hearing me talk. Now don't roll your eyes, I know people like when I tell stories. But these serious presentations that are void of accents and jokes, well, I'd have never thought I'd be the gal. 

Anyways, I'm nervous about this upcoming one because I don't really understand what I'm supposed to be teaching everyone. So...

Here's Nick dozing in the car. He's heavy and dense like a small appliance.

 The other day Mom referred to him as "Blockbuster."

This has turned into a much more self-focused post that I had planned on. I thought I'd do a full family update but I don't really know what's going on in anyone else's bubble. Brett and I have been so busy working in ours. More on that in a minute. 

My grad-school program people have gotten really excited about my writings and have encouraged me to compile essays on each of the subjects we study. They said it in a polite and intellectual way but basically they say I have a way with dumbing down difficult information, subsequently I'm a great educator for the layman. They are also mind-boggled by my use of humor on these subjects. I had one professor admit jealously after I read an easy to the class. I can now die satisfied. 

There's been talk of hooking me up with some publishers they know so I really feel the pressure to keep up my pace and get the little collection finished - which is a very good thing. I'm not usually held accountable for my own projects which is why I often abandon them once I become drowsy. 

A rare three-pet peace cuddle. 

We have accomplished many small house tasks since the holiday break began. They are the sort of fussy little things that you need to get done but that don't actually make your house look like you did anything. We are having an "Unfinished House HouseWarming Party" on Brett's birthday next week (you're all welcome to come) and I just finished ripping all of the plants out of the front yard. Retrospectively, I should have waited until after the big reveal party. Now the place looks like a big dirt patch. I'll post some photos soon - we just want to get a little further along. 

As of January, I'll be dropping down to just two posts each month. I did this once before back in 2016 when I was preparing for some big life changes; deciding what to do with my life, testing out jobs, quitting jobs, starting a business, trying to decide if my Jolly Lean Giant boyfriend actually loved me... you know, life altering things. 

I find it fitting that a similar circumstance would cause a needed break from self-imposed blogging demands. This time around though, I do know that Brett loves me. So I at least have that going for me. 

I'll keep you updated on the big things while I work out how to save the farm animals and still be able to pay my bills. Those are my new priorities. Let's see how it turns out.

The sweetest picture of the whole year.

Big Little Boat Days

Clint has purchased some sort of double-wide metal boat to keep in the marsh by our dock. Though the point was to have a lightweight vessel he could take fishing on occasion, it's a bulky cumbersome thing that Brett and he have to wrestle with to get it where they want it to go. Clint spent several weekends down in the marsh clearing a space for the new floating dock he would need to purchase and assemble. He was out there in the mud with a chainsaw and an ever blazing burn pile in our fire pit. Finally, the space was clear. He spent another few weekends acquiring and assembling the floating dock pieces. In the meantime, Brett and I took the girls for a ride up the creek. 

The houses get more and more thrilling the farther up you go. The best part is getting to see the old houses that aren't visible from the road, blocked off by thrilling, treelined driveways that drift off around a bend, leaving your imagination in the lurch. You can see 'em from the water and some of them are even better that you'd come up with on your own. 

While I admired the expensive and well-landscaped homes on the swanky end of our street, the girls paced around the little boat, forcing Brett and I to act as the counterweighted ballast stones. "Just sit down!" he finally barked at one of them. It was chilly out and Pippa finally settled into my lap which normally thrills me, but in this case I had to keep my arms in an upright and locked position that became very difficult to maintain. Grace eventually laid down in the back of the boat. She'd seen enough. 

This was the morning of Thanksgiving and on our way in we noticed a big, fuzzy raccoon in a trap in our neighbor's yard. I knocked on their door.
"Hi! You have a raccoon in your trap."
"Oh great!" he said.
"What are you going to do with it?"
"Oh we'll get get rid of it. It's been eating our cat food."
"Don't kill it!" I blurted.
"Well it's not really up to me. You'll have to talk to Pops."

Just as it was time to leave for Brett's families Thanksgiving lunch, we were able to barter for the coon's life, so we stuffed him in our tollbooth with a bit of dog kibble and left to go give thanks. We got home just before sundown, so still in our holiday outfits, we put the coon in the trunk, drove out to John Island, and set it free to start over in life. For some reason we did this under a bridge overpass and it seemed a bit seedy and suspicious. A cyclist passed us in the dark with our shovels, flashlights, and metal cage. Brett became worried about authorities. "Let's get out of here," he said, and we loaded up our murder equipment and headed home. 

"We saved a life today," I noted. 

A few weeks later, after Clint decided he needed to move the whole floating dock rig and boat situation to the other side of our fixed dock where the marsh had not been cleared out by much effort on his part, Brett and I decided to take the boat for a low tide cruise. Clint had accidentally taken the boat's kill-switch home with him, but Brett is an engineer, so he created a cable-tie based solution and had the motor purring in no time. We tossed the girls in and puttered out in a different direction. 

The oyster beds across the way are reminiscent of the french landscape after World War I. Peaks and trenches, sudden drop-offs and watery areas. Seeing as we aren't yet familiar with the topography of our new marsh, we beached ourselves on an oyster bed within ten minutes of leaving our dock. Brett turned off the motor. We had no oars or large sticks to push off with, so we tried bucking wildly. The dogs did not like it. When we thought we'd made enough progress, Brett fumbled with his zip-tie key in an effort to get us moving again. The tide was pushing us farther onto the oyster bed. 

I'll skip ahead and tell you that I had to step out of the boat and into the water with my winter clothes on. I rolled up my pant legs (wishful thinking) and plunged my sneakers into the frigid waters. I am Chris Union's daughter - I don't do cold water. And because I had just showered and applied lotion to my legs, a hundred tiny fishies arrived out of nowhere and pecked at my calves and shins. It tickled and was scary at the same time. I heaved all my weight against the boat and sent Brett and the girls out into the creek again, but my feet had sunken too far into the pluff mud. I had to stand there awhile, unearthing each foot over and over again. The fish followed my legs. Brett got the cable tie back in place and puttered over to me just long enough to let me flop myself back into the boat like tarpon. Despite my icy toes, I was ready to continue exploring. Brett was sensible enough to be spooked by the ordeal and took us back to the dock, heaved the girls back into the yard, and then threw a bunch ropes around a bunch of posts and used all of our strength to the get boat back on the float. 

I giggled to myself about the difficulties that this "easy little boat" has already caused. Clint has spent countless, worthless hours on it so far and still hasn't come up with a way to get it out of the water. There was a week that Brett and he spent looking at, shopping for, installing and uninstalling a few different wench systems, and at the moment, it's all just tied to our dock with ropes and the boat has gone all caddywampus, sitting diagonally on the float. 

I giggled at the endless misadventures of Grandpa Bob and Captain Chris and chuckled to myself knowing that the tradition will live on. 

We Moved In!

Heaps has happened in the last two months. I haven't had the time to tell you about living at Erik's house, nearly breaking my legs moving into our new house, the dogs adjusting to Ferguson, and a couple adventures out on the water. There's been Christmas decor, bathrooms to paint, cookies to bake in a scary new oven, and lots of time spent running errands with Mama. 

Approximately 3 hours after moving in, friends arrived with Indian takeout and games to play. 

Due to the ever-evolving nature of a new home, I haven't dared photograph things yet. We're still waiting on a few cabinet doors, light fixtures, the kitchen island, etc. Things that were there yesterday are in this room today. Technically this new house has an extra few square feet on our old place but because its all one big room, we have less space for furniture because there are only four walls available. Subsequently Brett and I have had a real time working out the office space (also the laundry room). Seeing as I "work from home" 5 days a week and Brett works from home on 1, it made sense that we prioritize MY office setup, but, thrilled by all the possibly of a new workspace, Brett felt his desk deserved a prized position as well. Only one desk will fit in the sunny laundry room so we elected to share one. 

Ferguson joins Brett at the office despite Brett's best efforts to make him uncomfortable. 

It was here I learned a lesson about the upbringing of boys and girls. I set my single monitor and basket of papers to tend to on either corner of the desk, and I worked there Monday through Thursday. On Friday, Brett arrived with a double monitor setup, a clunky keyboard and a mouse with an interminable chord. He had books and files and a big pad of graph paper. He balanced my monitor on a nearby window sill as he clamped the one oversized monitor around the overhang of my desk. He brought in a surge protecter that he filled with an assortment of electronic gadgets and then slowly lowered over the side of the desk to sit on the ground beneath his feet. My basket of "to-do" papers wound up on the floor near the washing machine and my desk chair was wheeled into the middle of the room. 

The first morning in their new bedroom.

Now first let me say that I welcomed Brett into the office. I happily cleared a corner of the desk for him and helped wheel in his office chair. Fridays are a light day for me - it made sense to let him take over. 

However, on Monday all of his chords and oversized monitors were still mounted to my desk. Where was my notebook? And the papers I needed to file? I rearranged the desk again, taking my monitor off the windows sill and replacing my file basket to its usual corner. Brett began working from home more than normal, thrilled by his new digs. I was glad he was thrilled, and I welcomed having him home with me. My monitor wound up back on the window sill and my basket off near Fergusons litterbox. I began using a file cabinet as my desk and holding my keyboard in one hand while typing with the other. I wasn't getting any work done most days. So I'd leave Brett in the office and go paint trim until his lunch break. Then I'd scamper in and fire off a few emails. I was honestly happier to have him home than not, even it if meant I got pushed out of my office. 

But then one day, I nearly missed a bill due date because he kept shuffling my papers around and disregarding my system - the system I use to keep our life running. I'm the CFO and COO of this family. For four years, Brett has never had to worry about bills being paid on time or taxes being filed. I'll make the call, wait on hold, send the email, etc. I'm glad to do it and I do it well.
But on this day, he had the nerve to suggest I need to organize our office space. "Lue, this shouldn't be on the floor," he told me, holding up our property tax information. "You need to come up with a better system."

Brett now works in the guest room, which is where I had suggested we put his desk long before we even moved into this home. The point though about raising boys and girls; Brett loves, respects, and considers me everyday. I know he never once thought, "Lue's stuff is less important than my stuff." Instead he thought, "I need a space to unroll these plans," and in the moment he put an obstacle (Lue's stuff) somewhere else. 
Meanwhile, my gentle ladylike upbringing never thought to say, "Hey Bubb, I need some space too." Instead I unconsciously decided it would be easiest if I work around the inconvenience. Don't cause a problem. I'd rather have Brett happy and home. 

I realized that fellas are encouraged to win - to come in and take what they need, while girls are encouraged to be peacekeepers, to wait and see if there is room or time for their idea. This is less of an attempted statement on feminism or "the patriarchy" and more of an observation of the stereotypical roles we see in movies and media, etc. Obviously Papa Union encouraged me to kick down doors and ask for what I want... I'm just much more inclined not to. A lot of that is my laidback weenie personality, but another part of it is worrying about being bossy, whiny, or a nag - words we rarely use to describe menfolk. 

An average evening these days.

What was I supposed to be writing about? Oh yes, we moved into our new house. 

And we love it.

In Conclusion

Oct 22 - Sardinia: Ports are beginning to blend together. More wandering and shopping. Dad is put off by traffic and noises. Ellen walks 20 yards ahead of us despite Dad's best efforts to herd the group into one blob. We'll lose Ellen in the distance, scan the area, and then find her at the top of a monument. Up we go to her, but she is gone again- this time we spot her across the square. 

I opened a stall door in a public restroom only to find Georgia standing there. "Hello Bob."

Oct 23 - Sicily: We all slept in today. I ventured up to the coffee shop to chat with Barbara, the Italian barista that I've slowly been winning over. I asked her if it was true that Italians won't drink milk in their coffee after breakfast time. Her straight face broke into a grin. "Yes, is true. Only for breakfast."
"But why," I asked. 

Barbra shrugged. "In the north Italy, you can drink cappuccino after lunch. Not in south."
"Have you ever done it just to break the rules?" Barbara took a moment to translate my question, then she bowed her head and said, "yes," thrilled by her defiance. 
"You're a wild woman, Barbara!" I quietly shouted. She showed me a toothy smile and then put herself right back to work. 

Ellen stayed on the boat but Dad, Mom and I ventured out and bought gifts from a thrilling olive oil store. Parts of town were dirty and uninspiring and then other parts were the cutest little areas. Very pretty architecture. Back on the boat Ellen joined us for lunch in the Grand Dining Room. I accidentally inhaled a small piece of lettuce, choked on it, and then had to go into the bathroom where I blew it out of my nose. We all found in fascinating, except Dad. He was disgusted.

Notes on the Family - collected throughout the trip: Carolyn can't shake a sinus infection and has to flush out her nose with distilled water each night. Georgia has taken to having margarita in the lounge most evenings. Dad is depressed about aging and fat people. Also, he is constantly being spoiled by this one (male) waiter who just won't charge him for anything he orders. Dad is equally parts uncomfortable and delighted about it.

Ellen and I continue to run into two guys we met in the hot tub one day. They've become very intrigued by the family's activities. Mom thinks everything she eats is delicious. Meanwhile Ellen is unimpressed by the food, service, and the water on board. She is "dehydrated" because the water "tastes bad" so she won't drink it. 

A 50 year old vineyard owner from Santa Barbara wants to dance with me so now I spend my evenings hiding from him in my room. 

Alston and Hailey spent most of their time with other people, and Dave and Dad bounce between the lot of us for card games, afternoon snacks, and evening activities. 

Overall we have a content, sluggish vibe going. Tomorrow the Union's head home while everyone else heads to Rome for a few days. Ellen did a great job maintaining a positive attitude and a willingness to participate, even if only for a short while. She says she is "maturing." 

.... she watched several Disney movies on the flight home. 

A Blur of Seaside Towns

Oct 17 - Cartagena: Adorable, colorful town. The group of us wandered and shopped before stopping for a "tapas" lunch. At the table, Dad was targeted by an African salesman pedaling wooden bowls. "You Sir, a bowl for you."

"I don't want it," Dad replied.
"25 euro."
"But I don't want it."
"20 Euro."
"It's not the money, I just don't want it."
On and on until Dad caved. Now I'm the one having to lug around his "African artifact."

Oct 18 - Palma de Mallorca: What a jewel. I'll need to come back and stay a while.

19 - Barcelona: I am the only one who hasn't been to Barcelona before. We all took the "HoHo" for a tour around town. (Hop on Hop off bus) Dad took his Ambien too late last night and was in a major stupor. He became nauseous and then slept through the rest of the tour. Says he's never getting on a bus again. 

Oct 20 - Marseille: While everyone went to Aix, Dad and I stayed in Marseille (Dad didn't want the bus ride) to explore. We climbed an old medieval tower and wandered the windy streets looking for lunch. We found a hole in the wall with the happiest French fella, Lucas, making sandwiches. He was delighted we chose to eat at his shop. Honored even. I practiced my French, became embarrassed, and then Lucas spoke English for us. He was so excited about his newest sandwich - banh mi inspired pulled pork- that I didn't have the heart to stick to my morals and not order it, so I ate a pork sandwich and it was delicious. 

Cruel but delicious.  

Oct 21 - Ajaccio, Corsica: The tiniest town. Took 5 minutes to walk the whole thing. Dad bailed. Then Ellen. Then Georgia. Then David. Mom, Carolyn and I made it another 20 minutes. Beautiful markets with fruit, honey, cheeses and fish. Everyone took long naps today. I've been befriending the two Italian baristas up in the coffee lounge. Mom came with me today to have a cappuccino. She guzzled it, loved it and then ordered a second one. "Ohh! Now I can go to coffee shops and home and have these! What a treat!"

The First Few Days

Ahh boarding cruise ship. Though I have an ethical issue with the cruising industry, I'll admit that those first few hours are especially thrilling. While Ellen studied the ship's layout months in advance, I enjoyed wandering around to get my bearings. Despite it being a relatively small boat, the decor created a confusing geo-location challenge. The front of the boat looks an awful lot like the back of the boat. Choose your elevator wisely. We all climbed aboard and ate lunch while we waited for our rooms to be ready. Chris Union, however, lives in his own world where there are no rules, so he took himself down to his room even though they asked everyone not to do that. He unpacked and made himself right at home. 

From this day on, the many stops of our Mediterranean adventure would begin to blur together. Is this Spain? No, France... I think. They were all lovely stops; rocky hillside towns with tiny cars and stone buildings. Windy streets, exciting plants, and room temperature water. What more could a culture-seeking American need? 

Notes from the Journal:

Oct 14 - Cadiz Spain; Dad continues to mispronounce words and giggle at his own nonsense. To help him remember we were in Cadiz, I said, "Looka deez!" and then fondled some air boobs. He loved it but Mom got mad at me. Ellen stayed behind today (our first stop) to play on her phone. She says she is tired. We lugged around a jug of distilled water so that Carolyn could flush out her nose with it later. Ellen texted that she wanted to join us, so she did, and ten minutes laters she said, "I'm done. Anyone going back to the ship?"

Most nights we ate dinner as the group of 9 that we were. I liked the big family dinners. Oftentimes Hailey and I were the faintest bit seasick in the evenings which made it difficult to eat like pigs. After supper there was either a show, a comedian, or a band playing somewhere. Alston and Hailey befriended the bartender near the casino and spent most nights there making friends with assorted staff and guests. Dad and Dave would take their chances at the craps table while the Leisure Club and I found ways to entertain ourselves. Ellen would go to bed right after dinner but she did come to a show one night and up to the "dance club" twice. 

Due to the clientele of the ship, there was lots of depressing people-watching to be done. Except for a well behaved four year old that stayed down the hall, I think we were the youngest youngsters. I'd suggest that the median age of the guests was "the sixties" and most of them were hefty. Overtime Dad became disgusted by their "big swaying butts."

Our second stop was Casablanca which I'll go ahead and tell you was a big, uninviting dirty city. There was smog, litter, and people pooping on the sidewalk. But don't give up on it yet. Ellen told us we needed to take a bus ride an hour northeast to Rabat and everything would be different. Ellen doesn't mess around with travel plans. All nine of us climbed aboard a big bus and drove out of the smog along the coast of Morocco and pulled into a lush, green, clean city filled with mosques and parks and smiling people wrapped in beautiful fabrics. 

Notes from the Journal:

Oct 15 - Morrocco; Ellen has elected herself Trip Leader and organizes our activities as needed. She insisted we go to Rabat and she was right, though she's a bit bossy about it. Today we visited two mosques and a casbah. Lots of stray kitties and jokes about knockers. Hailey and I were accosted by women giving henna tattoos. Dad was infuriated by the staining. Says he failed as a father. The casbah was like an eerie Greek village - quiet and dirty but also colorful and picturesque. 

Around suppertime the captain announced that something was wrong with the engine and we would not be leaving the port. The family immediately began plotting what they would do if the rest of the trip was cancelled. I think Switzerland was the solution. Ellen went to bed after supper but the rest of us stayed in "the trough" chatting. Carolyn admitted to having showered for the first time that day and Dad couldn't let it go. Up in the late night dance club was a Ryan Stiles-esque dancing man whose wild moves captivated everyone in the room. We heard many people throughout the trip discussing his unique dancing. 

Notes, continued; Midnight; the ship still hasn't cranked up. Once Ryan stopped dancing, Carolyn and Dave left to go flush out Carolyn's nose while Dad began stoking an existential crisis about growing old. "Look at all these old farts. There's a young person in each of them just dying to get out." 
We did finally leave the port at 2am but to keep us on track, we had to forgo the stop in Gibraltar in favor of a full day at sea, hustling to our next locale. 

Ellen, Dad, and I sat on the back of the boat and had a slow breakfast. We convinced Dad to try Museli for the first time - he really liked it but kept calling it Muslix. With his aging meltdown fresh on his mind, he scooped up a spoonful of wet oats and mashed them into his mouth like a disabled old fart, letting moist clumps ooze down his chin and drop back down onto his plate. It was so convincing that it made me cry. 

Ellen went back to bed after breakfast so Mom, Dad and I sat in the coffee shop and watched the powerwalkers circle the deck. It was windy, and gusts would blow the walkers off course. Dad would voice each of their inner monologues as they walked past and we'd have to stifle our laughter. With an unexpected day at sea, we played shanghai, ate a big lunch and took naps. I watched a movie in our room with Ellen while she enjoyed room service, and otherwise, we didn't really encounter Georgia or any other family members until suppertime. 

Here's Ellie at peak happiness.

2 Days in Lisbon

I'm in one of those phases where the sound of my writing voice is getting on my nerves. Isn't a shame we can only have our own thoughts and not hear things from another perspective? I use the same words over and over again. I know exactly how I'll describe my next thought. How dull.

So sitting down to tell about our family adventure resulted in my own instant boredom - not for the riveting tales of life abroad, but bored of the presentation. How do I make this interesting?

Day one... just kidding. 

Meeting the family in Lisbon was a giddy sort of thing, what with everyone taking different flights and coming from different directions. As is usually the case, we arrived in town long before our hotel was ready for us, so we found a cafe on a hill and spent the early Portuguese morning with hot tea and that just-got-to-town sleepy, thrilled feeling. 

But starting my story there skips the good parts of the trek over. These include noticing stains on Ellen and Dad's shirts while we were still in the Charleston airport. Ellen's stain looked suspiciously like baby vomit while Dad's looked to have come from his lunch. Both of them were distressed by their stains. "I have to the throw this shirt away!" Dad exclaimed. He put his sweater on over it even though he wasn't cold. Ellen's stain was much more noticeable. She ran off to the bathroom to clean it and somehow that effort turned the stain blue. It became a mystery stain and Ellen spent time standing in positions that hid it from the world. 

The other good part is that Dad took an Ambien shortly after we took off. I found him wandering the plane and when he saw me, relief washed over his face. He was so excited to see me, as if months had passed. He gave me an excessively long hug in the aisle and told me, "I love you SO much." Then he sat down and fell asleep and it turns out he doesn't remember a thing of it. He had also convinced the flight attendant to give Ellen and me some ice cream.

"I was walking around?" he asked as we all recounted our in-flight activities, "We talked?"

Georgia, Carolyn, and David eventually met us at the hillside cafe before I took everyone to the clown school for lunch. I was so glad to see that Brett's and my favorite dining establishment from our honeymoon was still going strong. It was a big hit, that clown school lunch, and then we all went back to the hotel for naps. 

For the record, I intended to bring my faincy camera on the trip to maximize the the photo documentation prettiness factor. I had my camera and lens and memory card all packed up and ready. I just needed to get the battery from a box of things I left at Mom's house... I couldn't find it. We had just moved out of Black Pig Farms - stuff was everywhere. So I unloaded my camera gear from my carry-on and then rode off to the airport. 

That's my long winded apology for presenting you with uninspiring phone photos of such inspiring locales.

During our time in Lisbon we had run-ins with Alston and Hailey (mostly at meal times) and we rode little tuk-tuks around town one morning in an effort to see more of the city. Mom, Dad, Georgia and I rode in Juan's tuk-tuk. Juan was well informed on the history and hubbub of Portugal and had lots of interesting topics to discuss. Carolyn, David, and Ellen rode with Greg; a seemingly drunken Frenchman who spoke little English and probably didn't know what city he was in. What he lacked in qualifications he made up for with spunk. He was nuts; giggly and talkative - you just couldn't understand him. Ellen scrambled out of his tuk-tuk at one stop and said, "I think Greg is crazy!" Dad and Greg spoke the same language in facial expressions and became tickled with each other towards the end. Greg's tuk-tuk was bright yellow and he trailed behind us everywhere Juan went. It was very Pink Panther. 

The family really loved Lisbon, with its colors and friendly folks. We moved one step closer to pivoting the future family compound to being one in the Portuguese countryside with "12 bedrooms and views of the sea." (-Dad) Everyone wants to go back to really explore, and I wholeheartedly support this. What else is there to do? Work? Bleh. 

In upcoming posts I will outline our stops with notes on family behavior patterns and highlights. I continued my biological study of Ellen, watched Dad tumble into a light depression, and observed the Leisure Club: the Silver Years. 

More to come. 

Alex & Jessie Get Married

Back in September, after 86 years of being engaged, Alex and Jessie finally got married up in her hometown of Cooperstown NY. There's a whole bunch to the tale of this weekend we got to spend up there, which by the way, is like a fake little movie set town. It was colorful, flowerful, and had perfect weather. Everyone seemed to know everyone (and their business) and also, the place is on a lake. What a dream that Cooperstown is. 

Anyways, Brett and I got to town on Thursday because I was the florist for this celebration and I had prep work to do. Jessie's step-Dad, Frank, picked us up from the airport in Albany and drove us the hour to Cooperstown. We've met Frank once before we he came to Charleston to visit Jessie and we really liked him. We even adopted a phrase of his, "chilly willy penguin bones!" during that visit that we still shout when we're cold. But on this hour together in the car, Frank and I fell madly in love. He's so accidentally endearing and funny while he finds me witty and engaging. Brett is also part of this love triangle, as he has no end of oddball questions that Frank always has interesting answers for. We were a happy trio all weekend and often times we would catch Frank's eyes from across the room and then we'd all twinkle at each other. What a great welcome to the wedding weekend. 

There is no end to the things that went on over the next few days. Brett and I joined a family dinner on the lake, visited the town coffee shop, had the best tomatoes we've ever eaten, and also he picked me up, hung me by my ankles and then spun in circles. It made me so sick that I lost my color and had to sit extremely still for two hours. Jessie was very worried about me. Brett experienced great remorse. That's the worst I've felt in a long time. 

Now back to those tomatoes. Jessie's mom, Maryann, grew them and she had no idea they were anything special at all. We were just making a quick lunch when Brett sliced and tasted a tomato and his face contorted into something I haven't seen. He looked down at the tomato and I realized he was having a religious experience. " Lue, you have to try this," he said in disbelief. He was right. It was unlike any tomato we've ever had. We looked up at Maryann.
"What is this?"
The tomatoes?" she asked, "I don't know. I got the plant at Lowes." We asked Frank and Maryann if they've ever had tomato pie. "No, what is that?"

"It's like a pizza after it does a semester in the South," I explained. So the next day, Brett whipped one up for us... I mean, them.... he and I ate most of it.

We go on to take the seeds from those tomatoes home with us. We have high hopes and low expectations for planting them this Spring.

We stayed with Jessie's folks for the back half of our long weekend, and Maryann setup a makeshift flower shop for me in the garage, so I processed and sorted flowers as soon as they were delivered on Friday so that I could go meet Alex and Jessie's friends for bonfire night at the brewery. There were a handful of events like this one before the wedding on Sunday and they were so much fun that Brett and I wound up feeling a little dejected. We wish we had people like these living close by in Charleston. Everyone was so joyful and open-minded and creative. "Maybe we need to move someplace... more alive?" Also, us bachelorette weekend gals were reunited and it was so much fun. It was very interesting to meet each of the gal's other halves and then transpose the stories we told about them onto the person before our eyes. Lydia and Brett were on the same page right away and took to some witty banter that carried on throughout the weekend. I enjoyed just listening to them play off each other. 

I spent the days working on flowers and the evenings celebrating with the friends. Brett mostly stuck around to help me but he did go off to a few occasions that I didn't have time for. We had a greenery fiasco that threw an extremely stressful wrench into the ceremony decor plans. First the greenery delivery was delayed one day, then two, then I found out it wasn't coming at all. I feigned like it was no big deal in front of Jessie and Maryann, but then I'd grab groomsmen by the elbows and inform them that they were going foraging in the morning. A handful of the agreed but then the daytime proved to be too exciting and no one showed up. Brett went foraging on his own, dressed head to toe in tickproof clothing borrowed from Alex. I've never loved a man with his pants tucked into his socks more that I did that day. I was very stressed and it's awful to be the only stressed person on such a celebratory whirlwind weekend of fun.

Finally the big day rolled around, and so did some big grey clouds. Don't it figure? We watched the radar all morning - it was grey out but it wasn't raining. Even though I had some flower business to install before the ceremony, I spent the morning with all the girls getting ready at Maryann's house. Other than the weather concerns, it was a cheerful, slightly queazy vibe in the house and all the gal's took turns having their hair done. I was very excited to have my hair done. I don't know how to fix my hair but I love a little curl on the bottom and a bit pinned back on the sides - so that's what I asked for and that's what they did. I loved it and felt very pretty.  

When the time came, I slipped out of the house and dashed over to the venue to build two flower columns. I had exactly enough time to do this, jump into my dress, and then meet the bridal party for photos. Well it dumped rain on my fresh $90 hair-do while I was out there in the elements tucking in daisies. I became enraged. The ONE time I paid money to have my hair look nice. I didn't even pay for nice hair on MY wedding day. Also, I was cold and alone. Alex and the groomsmen arrived a pinch ahead of schedule so Brett came down to the lake to find me. He saw my wet rat hair and look of distain and sent me on into the venue to get dressed. He finished flowering the columns for me, and I don't think I've ever loved a man in a bow tie and rental suit more than I did that day.

I dashed up the stairs of the museum and into the "Bridal suite." It was empty in there which was nice for me except that I had no one to zip up my dress. I put my head under the hand drier and had to take out the little hair pins that had previously held up so much potential. Now they were loose and tangled. I put on my dress, changed my shoes, and then stuck my head out into the hallway. It was a medieval art exhibit. 

"Hey," I said to a nearby couple, "excuse me?" They both turned their heads with raised eyebrows. "Would you mind zipping me up?" They looked at each other as if they didn't know who I was talking to. "You please, the girl." I stepped into the threshold and turned around, presenting her with my vulernabitily. "Thank you," I said. "There were supposed to be a bunch of girls in here but I guess I'm running late." Well I'll go ahead and tell you that the strange girl couldn't or wouldn't zip me up. She gave it a gentle tug and when it didn't budge she gave up. 

"It's not going to zip," she told me as if I knew this already and was in denial. Frankly I was shocked. I had put the dress on many times before this day and knew that if anything, I had too much room up top. 

"It will," I told her, "You just have to give it a good tug." She gently tried agin. "Just pull it!" I said. 

"It won't go. I'm sorry." And then she left me there in the hallway with the back of my dress flopped open. She grabbed onto the arm of the embarrassed-for-me man she was with and they hustled down the hall as if I was a potential threat. 

I stepped back into the dressing room and called Brett, but he didn't answer. When it was time to take matters into my own hands, I spun the dress around backwards, zipped it up (effortlessly, I might add) and then began the task of spinning it back around again. This is when desperation kicked in. I crouched down into a low squatting position and reached as far around myself as I could, then I yanked and yanked. I took a few breaks in there to catch my breath and I pulled a strange muscle in my neck, but eventually I got all tucked in and had too much room in the front still, thanks very much gallery girl. I dashed downstairs, looked everywhere for the bridesmaids, found no one, and then sat on the front porch for 20 minutes waiting like a damp damsel who was ditched by her prince. The girls were very late. Guests began arriving and and hiding from the rain in the museum while the groomsmen had their pictures taken. I was so amped up from the frantic flower installation and dress wrangling that sitting quietly on a bench when the wedding was supposed to start in 5 minutes had me all kinds of anxious. 

Eventually, about half and hour late, Jessie trudged down the muddy aisle and our two favorite friends got married overlooking a lake in the rain. 

The rain took the pressure out of the wedding ceremony. With expectations of perfection off the table, everyone relaxed and laughed and joked about the soggy mess of a day. Alex and Jessie both have ties to Scotland and went to Scotland for their honeymoon so we all found it fitting that they would have "a very Scottish day." Speaking of which, a bagpiper played us out as we all trudged back up the hill. 

I just really love this picture. 

The rest of the day carried on like a big celebration should. Eating, dancing, speeches, etc. So I'll just leave a handful of photos as the celebrating carried on. 

As for Jessie's bouquet, I felt it was very important that it "represented" her; all bright and earthy and colorful. I selected the best flowers in the bunch and I hemmed and hawed and reshaped and tweaked and tucked and pruned and added...

Brett was harassing me to finish it so we could go join the rehearsal dinner, which was at a greenhouse full of flowers and twinkle lights. A brilliant idea. 

She loved it. Alex said it looks just like her. 

Please note; those are not all my drinks, and look at the water line on my dress. 

It stayed damp alllll night long.

The weekend ended with a farewell brunch at Maryann's and then Frank drove us back to the airport. It was a doozie of a weekend; a real emotional roller coaster for everyone - but especially Brett who had to contend with my greenery panic. We were exhausted when we got home but also thrilled for our precious friends.