Twenty-Eight: The Magic in Your Words

Before I dive in to the obligatory holiday recap, let's do a little bit of orienteering. It's Sunday, December 29th, part of that period between Christmas and New Years where you're not entirely sure what day of the week, or month, it is. Mel and I are at home in Toronto, having a lazy Sunday, which so far has included omelettes and Superstore, and may go on to include off-brand Farkle (the dice game we were introduced to by my mother-in-law) and nachos and, if we can get it up to make them, Rice Krispie treats. Currently, Mel is napping and I have my usual few hours to do whatever, which lately has largely consisted of writing in this blog as long as I keep having holiday experiences to write about here. It gives me some stress because I could be writing or doing other things but I refer you to my comment a few weeks ago about how you just can't poop out a masterpiece on your lunch break (although maybe that shouldn't stop me from trying.)

Since the wedding I have been having much more intense, vivid dreams. A few nights ago it was the first day of school and I had to get my schedule in order (I was taking an elective that only two other people were in so maybe I wanted to shuffle that around) and also do an audition for American Idol (We've been watching a lot of The Masked Singer.) I did "Dream On," which I am confident I could rock right up until the big final shrieks, but maybe even then if I put my whole self into it. In last night's, Eric and I were participating in an indie wrestling show, with Kurt Angle and Eddie Guerrero. This from a comment I made on Twitter to Dave Meltzer that I had worked hurracanranas on my brothers in our childhood basement wrestling days. I remember when I was 12 I wanted to join a wrestling school when I was 18, but by the time I was 18 it was clear I was only as physically capable as I was when I was 18, and had missed my physical peak at 12. Plus glasses. I also wanted to be a rock star.

On Christmas eve, I worked a few hours until a little after noon, then headed out. I made a few stops for last minute gifts, but had missed a text from Mel asking me to pick up her prescription so I headed back out. This caused a domino effect of delays since we had to sort things and pack and whatnot, and Mel became despondent because she had hoped to leave Toronto much sooner. In the hurry I even forgot my charger, which was to become a serious issue later.

We spent the night as usual at Nonna's eating seafood and watching It's a Wonderful Life somewhat reluctantly since it was the only thing on the few channels she gets that was appropriately Christmassy. It's almost become a tradition to watch this movie and chirp the whole way through because, iconic ending aside, it's not exactly riveting and it's not even like the whole thing is Christmas. Maybe next year we'll learn this lesson and bring some DVDs or something.

From there Mel and I had to stay up late wrapping because we were pretty well unprepared. I hadn't thought we would be wrapping everything that went in the stockings but she wanted to, so we did. We muddle through Christmas Day. Every year it seems to drain Mel so much, to have to do all these things. She was wishing we had stayed home. I told her I was in if she was, but to me, if we're going to be giving attention to her family we're going to give it to mine as well. I think Mel loves the fantasy of Christmas so much, the joyous version from your childhood that is all good things that, even in five years, she has not fully adjusted to the demands of Christmas in an adult world where too many people want your time and there is joy but also a weird melancholy. I mean, everyone gets that, right? Well, despite all this, she did it at least for me, and for that I'm grateful.

All along I told her, if she's really not feeling well we can bail at any time. And I meant it.

Christmas Morning at her parents, usual stocking opening, coffees and cinnamon rolls (minor Christmas miracle, the bottoms didn't burn this year! They turned out great.) Christmas lunch at Dad and Deb's, Grilled Cheese for which they bought Lactose-free cheese (Mel and I had brought some in case.) Eric was skeptical even after my assurance it tasted exactly like regular cheese when you melt it. "I'll be the judge of that" he said, then took a bite. "Yeah, it's good." we Skyped with James & Amanda, then Pat & Allan and Laura & Gavin, took our usual photo, then headed on our way.

The next stop was Etobicoke, after a brief rest outside of Brandon's complex so that Mel could refresh. I will admit by this time it felt like we had some momentum so I took as given we were going to keep going, so I hope Mel didn't feel pressured. We went down Burnhamthorpe, arriving just ahead of Mom and the guys.

It was... I would say, not the liveliest Christmas I have ever spent with my family, but good under the circumstances.

The previous Saturday, as Mel and I were preparing to come back to Canada, I had started getting texts, first from my aunt and then my mom that Grandma was back in the Hospital. I had chosen not to respond at the time because it just seemed like I couldn't deal right then and there. The next day, Mom informed me that Grandma seemed ready to go. Thinking that meant, virtually that instant, I had mom put me on with her so that I could tell her how much we loved her and how much she meant to us.

It didn't quite work out like that. She stayed longer, in palliative care, being given morphine to assist her breathing and, I think, ease her suffering. On the Monday, I was told she was in good spirits and asking to see everyone. I said I would try to be there on Christmas eve, but for obvious reasons the timing didn't work. Nor did I have a chance to go on Christmas day, obviously.

I was feeling pretty bad since even Brandon and Eric had managed to go (albeit only because Kris was swinging by anyway.) Virtually the only things to talk about were the wedding and our honeymoon, and Grandma. Still, the turkey was beautifully moist and delicious, the meal was amazing, and there was a joy - a tense joy, but a real one - in the air. Mom had brought Dex, which I was pleased about, not because I wanted to see Dex per se, but because it's been a little sad how they let the dog anchor them. I would love for them to get comfortable leaving Dexter alone at home if at all possible, but either way. I know it comes from my mom's anxieties.

I let people know during the gift-giving that of course, Mel and I had been a little distracted so there was less there than usual. Lori made a remark like "I'm glad you said so." Honestly, I wouldn't have wanted the wedding and honeymoon to affect my giving, but I would have loved to not feel pressured either way. I love to give, but everything going on in the last few weeks has really affected our time to do so. (Plus I didn't even know I was getting Lori anything, let alone what to get her, until I was on my way to New York.)

Mel and I stayed longer than the others, which did my soul good. I made it clear (I felt) to Mel that anytime she wanted to go we would do so, but I think she enjoyed catching up with the aunts on a more personal basis as well. I spurred the conversation by asking everyone to talk abut something that made them happy this holiday season - and yes, the wedding was discussed further but I insisted I was not fishing for compliments there. I talked about Eric getting the ride home from Mel's family after the wedding and how it felt like I have a large family, not two families.

We went on and on, again circling back to Grandma and the wedding, but also to work and life and romance and my brothers and cousins and all that. It was the kind of thing I liked. We left around 10 and took the highway home.

The next day I asked Mel if we could go see Grandma before going to Unc's for Dinner. There was a moment of frustration in parking but other than that it was quietly sombre. I can't overemphasize the shock of seeing Grandma there, teeth out, bruised from a fall, heavy-lidded from the morphine. They were playing the hits of the Sixties. Lori left us alone.

I summoned the things you are supposed to say. I made the lightly kidding chatter you make when you are visiting someone in the hospital, who is in serious condition. Pretend like you both don't know what is happening. Once while we were visiting Mel's Poppa in the Hospital, I had made the mistake of saying he seemed to be in high spirits, or a good mood, or something - meaning it relatively, but that caused Mel to burst out in tears. And Mel did have a strong emotional reaction to this as I knelt by Grandma's side and talked a bit about silly things she'd say. I had written her a card and Mel's parents had sent one too, which was a very moving gesture.

After a few moments of really not knowing what to say, linking my fingers with her and all, I told Mel she could step outside, I wanted a few last moments. I spoke to her about the impact she had had on my life, and what we would be losing with her gone, the memories and stories that I knew some but not all of, which I had heard during my time walking Xena for her, sitting with her when I could and having a 7Up, knowing she really wanted the company (and being 15, 16 years old, being somewhat conflicted about it but knowing it was the right thing to do. I didn't always, but I did as often as I felt I could.) Then I told her something I have rarely told anyone, about how she taught me magic was real, without even meaning to.

It was several years ago, and she was in the hospital, in bad shape. She was in her mid-80's and not a great candidate for the kind of treatment she needed for her heart.

I had written, and posted, not long before, a story called "Pluto" about a young man who goes to visit a grandparent, only to end up witnessing his final moments. The story has other themes too, about finding your way in life and coming into your own. Anyway. I felt sick to my stomach that I had put this out into the universe mere days (perhaps even hours) before my grandma fell ill, so I decided to change the end of the story. Selfishly, perhaps, since the new ending doesn't really "work" so well. After much grief and time spent running after grandpa's cat Pluto, I made it so that the old man woke up at the end, not dead after all.

Not long after that, Grandma made it through her surgery okay.

I told her that, and confessed - obligatorily - it was probably just a coincidence, but it never felt like one. And that oddly made me scared, scared about what I could put out into the universe. Maybe that hampered my attempts at writing, I don't know. If all I had to do was avoid writing my grandmother's passing, it shouldn't have been that hard. But stories do need their endings, and this was one. I told her I would see her again, perhaps a long time from now, but someday. And that was that.

From there we went to Unc's, with Google maps telling us to go basically all the way back home and then go from there (we were on the other side of Mississauga). I had that thousand-yard stare I was telling you about, thinking about a story I had tried to write many years earlier, but perhaps didn't for fear of the same magic, or perhaps due to lack of self-belief or time or confidence or inspiration, the way these things go, "A Year of Holidays." The story also concerns the passing of a grandparent, around Christmas - a theme that has often been in my head likely because of how much Grandma has been the central hub of our family for so long. I hadn't really taken that idea seriously in years, but it began to bubble up again.

Ever since the end of the wedding, and especially since New York, I have felt an extreme reinvigoration of inspiration, a desire to go back to exploring the many ideas I had filed away for a long time. This makes me nervous because I had made my peace with the fact that my time as a "real writer" was never going to come and I should focus on the here and now. It was a matter of some serious discussion in our marriage bootcamps with Priya. For Mel, it was sad that I don't have the kind of drive she does. For me, it was a matter of pragmatism, that for me to seriously pursue this - serious seriously - I would have to give it the kind of time that would serious take away from my ability to pay attention to her as a partner. Some relationships could handle that. This one probably couldn't. Maybe she worries I resent her for it - I don't, I know this is how life is, and if it weren't because of this I would find other reasons because I wasn't setting the world on fire when I had time to do so - but it's a trade off I am mostly comfortable with. Mostly, I say, because the ideas never stop coming. After I finish updating this blog, my next project is to sort through my various ideas and catalogue them, what I know and believe about them and where they go next. I've got like four or five books in me, some short stories/collections, a play or two, at least one concept for a TV show, comics, and one thing that completely defies easy categorization, to say nothing of all the blogging I would do if I had time.

If.

Well.

We made it to Unc's, had a nice casual dinner of Christmassy leftovers, opened some gifts, half-watched Christmas Vacation, played Exploding Kittens with the expansion pack. I showed the Wedding photos on my tablet since we couldn't hook it up to bigger device and I had no desire to figure out how to get it to play on the TV via USB. They're beautiful, although there are times when I wished I had been able to straighten the guys' ties or unbutton their jackets or fix our posture, knowing now how they turned out. Not that these things are likely to bug anyone else, but I have a shockingly keen visual eye from all those years reading comics, so in some pics I wish I was smiling better or standing more closely to Mel, or had my arms different. But it is what it is. I also wished I took more candids and appeared in more selfies and more peoples' Instax pictures in the guest book, but that also is what it is. We will always have the memories, which can be summed up in only a few photos.

When we got home, we stayed up a little late opening the remaining gifts, which again made me feel I'd come up a little short in some of the giving, which I still want to rectify.

The next day, Mel and I went out to the mall. We took advantage of Bath & Body Works' Sale (I think it no longer stresses Mel out to be in there, three years later) and we bought a carryon from Bentley to go with out big suitcase. we spent way too much time waiting at Starbucks and then again at Tims to pick up a tea for Mama H. I stopped in at Coles to check on the place and drop off some chocolates. Amanda was there, which was good, it saved me the embarrassment of having nobody there I actually knew and would talk to. But we didn't stay long because we had already been at the mall for hours and, as previously discussed, Mel gets antsy waiting for me in bookstores.

When we got home, we finally went through our gift envelopes from the wedding, cataloguing what all we got and from whom so we know what to say in Thank You cards. We should be opening a joint account tomorrow so that we can deposit the cheques. We also looked at the guest book, which was wonderful.

At that time, I had gotten the call from mom that Grandma had passed.

It was a brief one, Mom was in tears and there were others in the background. Mel and I shared a quiet moment as we let the rest of the family know and I called my dad to say.

I didn't really want to think about it too hard. I've had a lot of time to process this and, it may sound cold, but I'm not into performative grief for grief's sake. I miss her and mourn her in my own way and I hope that should be enough for everyone. The next day, Elizabeth texted me to see how I was. I told her I was okay all things considered, and returned the question. She said she felt there was a heavy weight on her and she had to keep it together for her mom and her family. And I don't mean to judge because people will grieve how they will and it's not my place, but I don't necessarily relate from my own life experience. Perhaps it's my enlightened Zen Buddha stuff, but death is life and this is the best death you can ask for, as either the deceased or bereaved. You go late in your life surrounded by loves ones whom you have watched grow up - life is finite and we all know it, so to get so much of it, and so much good during it, even one as occasionally turbulent as Grandma's... that's a wonderful thing, and I just am hard pressed to fall apart over it. Is that cold? Is it wrong? Is it glib to be in "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened" mode? Have my beliefs alienated me from the human experience? I don't know. What is wrong with me that I am suspicious of people for the amount they grieve?

Death scares me. But only in the sudden, unexpected form. I think about Rob Sheffield's "Love is a Mixtape" a book I have only read once, and I am choked up with pre-emptive mourning and also fear. This, this is just a lovely life's natural end. But you can't really tell people that. I mean you can, but you have to put it in terms that validates their form of grieving as well.

I don't know.

I should write a book about it.

We went home after a slow morning, got Popeyes for either a late lunch or early dinner (we didn't end up eating anythig else.) Then Mel napped and I cleaned the toilet on a whim. Husband things.

My time is up on this one. I have said lots, pretty much everything I wanted to. Dinner soon. I'm glad to get the whole chaos and craziness of Christmas out of my mind, so I can get to work on whatever it was I thought I might be doing. I went back and read some posts from my first ever December on this blog. It's hard, and yet so very easy, to believe I'm the guy who wrote that. Continuity.

Keep on rockin
-Scott

Twenty-Seven: The World Travelers

It has been, I trust you will understand, an incredibly hectic few weeks. While I normally find it hard to find time to sit down and write in this thing, this month has been doubly so. And there has been so much going on that I have ten times as much to say as I usually do, although ten times nothing would technically be nothing.

When I left off we had just finished the wedding, and honestly even though I took as much time as I could to look at it in detail, I feel like there were so many details to mention. Over the course of the Christmas holiday it has been great to recount with everyone what they were doing and what they thought.

We took a couple of days after the wedding just to get a breather. Monday we went to the mall to get Mel a new coat and do a little light Christmas shopping. We hadn't determined to do very much and hoped people would be understanding about how distracted we had been, although by the time Christmas Eve rolled around I was wishing we had. While at the mall, we got our money changed to US Dollars and saw a few of Mel's co-workers, including David who had been invited to the wedding but was in a car accident on his way down.

I was a little stressed the morning of our flight because we had tarried some and gotten a late start, but it was a time when practicing Buddhism has practical applications to my wellbeing so I didn't express it too much and tried to let it resolve into tranquility. This is different of course than bottling up frustrations or pushing them down, because you are letting yourself feel it and making a conscious decision not to follow your instincts and, say, explode.

We were in a bit of a rush, though, by the time we got out the door, to grab a quick breakfast at Tims (the first of many breakfast bagels consumed that week, in retrospect) and then hustle to the UP Express. We got to the airport in good time and got our bag checked in easily, and the only minor resistance we encountered was at the American entry point where I was directed to the counter where they ask why you're going to the States. He asked if I was travelling alone, and I said no, I'm going with her (indicating Mel, who had just finished at the other counter) and he asked what was our relationship and I said she's my wife, it's our honeymoon. In that jaded tone that border workers get, especially I think American ones, he said next time we come to the counter together. I don't know why but it bugged me, probably more for that tone than the content.

The flight was, well, I would say fine, but Mel found it rough. There was bad weather and it was a little bumpy on landing. I'll admit it was jarring but in the grand scheme of things I didn't really care. I spent the whole flight reading my Rob Sheffield Beatles book - It's been the only thing I wanted to read since I found that copy at HomeSense a few weeks before the wedding, even though I've read it before and, being a big ol Hardcover, it doesn't necessarily travel well. But on the way back the person next to me was reading the new Ta-Nehesi Coates HC so, there you go.

From LaGuardia, we had to take a shuttle to the cab stand because they're basically rebuilding the airport in what sounds like an ambitious project. Some fellow travellers from Toronto gabbed amongst themselves about how terrible the flight had been. I considered engaging with them but honestly they sounded like the whiniest people on the planet, or at least that shuttle bus. From there it took a while to get to our AirBnB, or at least it sure felt like it, a twenty minute GoogleMaps ride stretched out to an hour. It was only 5:00 when we got there but it felt like midnight. Mel already scouted us a pizza place to order from, just at the bottom of our building. She wanted the goat cheese pizza, I wanted a classic pepperoni. We ordered two medium, but in Brooklyn of course a medium is a Canadian XL. Pizza exchange rates.

And wings. It was a lot of food but we were pretty hungry.

As to the place, again here is where opinions diverge. I was okay with it barring a few amenities. Mel had a few more complaints. I thought it was a cozy enough place to drop our stuff. When asked later why we wanted to do AirBnB rather than a hotel, I couldn't really specify, but it was the kind of experience we were after. We curled up on the couch and watched The Girl on the Train. "I read the book," Mel said, "But I didn't like it." "So why do you want to watch the movie?" "(shrug) I might like this more."

I found it hard to get into, but I enjoyed it more once I realized what was going on and where it was going. I'm not sure how it plays out as a book, but it was enough of a smash hit. We spent much of our downtime watching the show Superstore, which Mel and I both related to based on our robust retail experience. Sadly, it looks like there's no legal way to stream it back home. Sad. (I may end up paying to watch it on YouTube since we enjoyed it so much and want to see the rest.)

Official Day 1 of the trip, Wednesday, we started by taking a look around the neighborhood, looking for breakfast spots and place we could get groceries if we so desired. We got breakfast bagels from a place called Jessi's, which were terrific, as was the coffee. Mel had to settle for tea since they didn't have decaf. Funny how New York, and Brooklyn in particular, are known both for performative progressivity and inclusion, but also tough, defensive austerity and simplicity.

We took the Subway into the city and came out at the Christmas market at Union Square. We bought ourselves a Christmas ornament of a stuffed NYC Taxicab hauling a Christmas tree on the roof, got some apple cider and a s'more waffle. Then we walked up to the Empire State Building (bit of a hike but hey, we're tourists.) Kind of a lot of rigmarole to get to the top, the security, the museum, very "about itself," but it was fun. Cold up there, but there were heaters and a good view. Took other peoples photos, got others to take ours (with sour frozen faces that belie the good time we're actually having.) When we got back down, exiting through the gift shop, we stopped off at the Starbucks to get a breather. A snow squall started, a heavy-looking but very harmless drift.

Luckily, we were nearby to the Korean BBQ place that David had recommended. We had never had Korean BBQ before and it did not disappoint. Admittedly, with all the add-ons we were kind of like "Okay, how do you do this?" but we made do. Lovely meal. Then we found our way to Macy's, which Mel wanted to see for the famous store windows. We went in and peeked around, played on the BIG Piano (you know, from the movie BIG) - amazing how "into" all the movies that take place there NYC is, but I guess Tourists love it. I bought some white tee shirts, which I have been trying to find for months (I know, I know, but I really wanted to avoid Amazon, and I'm not fond of Wal-Mart either) and rode the wooden escalators. We thought about trying to see Santa, but he was well booked up, I guess unsurprisingly. I also got a Spanish speaking service staffer to direct us to "el banio." (I couldn't specify "para mujer" off the top of my head so I just waved in Mel's general direction.) Thank you, Jane the Virgin.

From there we found our way to Rockefeller Centre, to see he big tree and watch some skating. We had some hot chocolate from a truck which fortunately had non-lactose options. More taking and asking for photos, plus we saw a proposal (since she seemed very pleased to be getting it, it was very romantic under the circumstances. Me, where I'm from, you don't offer a proposal unless you're sure it's a yes.) From there we called it a night.

Day 2, aka the really cold day, was the day we went out to see Phantom of the Opera. We got all dressed up as we tend to do when we go see a show, despite the weather indicating maybe we should dress more for comfort. It was a great production, and it ought to be since it's essentially been running for 35 years on Broadway nonstop, so they should have it down. From there we fond a little Italian place to have dinner - Mel had the Salmone e Farfalle and I had the Chicken Piccata. Then we made our way to Times Square. That was probably the roughest part of the trip for me, as it's such a busy, hectic place, not a lot of non-shopping things to do, and the weather was inclement. Still, we saw a street show of some dancer/tumblers who had a really catchy patter (albeit with some lame racial/homophobic cracks mixed in) but who also padded out their show so much that when it finally got to the big final move I felt a little like, that's it?

Anyway. Mel's feet were getting cold so we went to Forever21 to get her some cozy socks to put on over her tights, and then we hit the Disney Store and the M&M's world. Finally, we went to Starbucks again, and the girl lamented to me that she wished everyone would go home because "New York is not that beautiful." I sighed, a lot of these people come from much less beautiful places. I don't think she cared. Well, they made my drink cold and I was too disgruntled to ask for it heated up but hung onto it in case we could get home in time to warm it up.

For the only time during the week, there was a little bit of tension as I got us a little turned around looking at the map, and I was frustrated and feeling a little hectored. But whatever, we got back home.

On Day 3, I had us take a detour to The Strand bookstore, which was a delight but overwhelming. Whenever we go to a bookstore together, I get a little anxious because if I'm not careful I can go adrift, and I can see her interest waning, so it's a measure of balancing our needs.

After that, we went to Central Park. We stopped in at Bergdorf Goodman, another department store, this time of the utmost fancy schmancy variety. We nearly got ourselves in to dinner, but the wait was an hour and honestly they never called us and even more honestly they probably didn't call us on purpose. And even more even more honestly I probably would have felt pretty out of place eating there, but you know, you've got to try to spoil yourself on vacation. While we were waiting we indulged in a tour of Central Park - we had asked for a horse drawn carriage but the guy upsold us into a pedicab tour at the same price. This permitted us to see more, faster, and get out at a few stops and take pictures, which was nice, sure. We saw some great scenic points of interest, Strawberry Fields, etc. After another hot chocolate in the Plaza Hotel's food concourse, we made our way to a burger place called Bareburger. It was a bit of a wait for a table, but we figured we'd stick it out because we had no other ideas. I was a little less hungry once it was time to eat, but the burger was good. We had ordered a side of onion rings and fries to go with and as always, it was too much. The burger was a really gourmet version of what you might get at A&W, but I don't think that exists down there. The last thing we did was go to another Holiday market, this time at Columbus Circle. Nothing much new.

The next day we spent lazing around. Our flight was at 8:00 so there was no hurry and if we had wanted we could have gone into the city but we opted not to. That said, I did find myself getting stressed when it got to be about 3:00 and we hadn't really budged. Still, we managed to get the place zipped up and out the door not long after 4. We stopped off for some special vegan doughnuts in the neighborhood, the last thing we wanted to do - and it was a real winner. From there we called for a car to take us to the airport, which was a little long in getting to us but all the same, once we were in we were on our way.

Again I had a slightly negative experience at the airport - I had forgotten to take some change and my keys out of my pocket, so they had me go back through, and it was a much longer line than at Pearson so everyone was feeling agitated, with Mel probably tired of waiting for me. Once we made it through though, it was fine. We got some nachos at the terminal to eat for dinner as we waited to board. We stopped off for some last souvenirs but what we thought were fridge magnets were just a compact, so we ended up coming home basically empty handed (although honestly we hadn't really planned on bringing much for people.)

The ride was fine, Mel watched the first half of a thriller called Ready or Not, about a newlywed couple where the groom's family wanted her to play a deadly game of hide and seek. Cheery watching for a honeymoon flight, sure. I read Dreaming the Beatles more. Really, it's such a brief flight you almost wonder what you're paying for (but if you've ever taken the 11-hour bus ride, you know.)

We got home just about 11:30 and honestly I don't remember if we just crawled right into bed or watched some TV or what.

There is a lot more to report from a Holiday season that left me with something of a thousand yard state, but alas this has been another long entry. I can't wait for things to stop happening in my life so I can go back to ruminating, instead of just reporting the facts. Then again, the ruminations are pretty boring and they never lead anywhere so you're probably better off, imaginary person reading this.

Speak again soon, keep on rockin
-Scotto

Twenty-Six: The Young Lovers (What will be)

I woke up this morning in our little rental in Brooklyn, and spent a long while waiting for Mel to finish her snooze so se could get on with the day.I had had a very intense dream where I attempted to stage a follow-up to Half-Past, which everyone agreed was too sad and melancholy and even I fell asleep during it (fell asleep during my dream! Some Inception shit.) For whatever reason I had used the pen name Del Funk.

I had promised the further summary of what happened during my wedding day, and I think it's important - history has taught us that years down the road this blog is the only record I have when my memory inevitably fails me and if there is one day I would want to remember in exact detail it's my Wedding Day.

You know, I was so busy that morning I nearly forgot to put on Deodorant. I moisturized my beard but missed the speed stick.

After the wedding ceremony, we rushed out for pictures as we were directed by David and Jonah to walk and cuddle and kiss through the light romantic December rain. We toughed it out in the cold. then returned for the family photos, which were tough to wrangle but David, pro that he was, got us through in record time. Then we did some wedding party pics, some special couple shots, and we were golden. We had gone to the trouble of arranging an extra half hour for pictures, but only went like ten minutes over. Again, my philosophy of just leaving as much time as possible for everything seemed to pay off.

After that we headed upstairs for our intros (hitch - as soon as we got up there, Mel had to go to the bathroom, which was either in the ballroom, making our entrances a little redundant, or back across the terrace. Oop. Plus she needed Rielle's assistance.)

Once we located everybody and figured out exactly what my mom's last name is, we did our entrance - the team entered to "Power of Love" (Kris: "That's a good omen!" Me: "I picked it!") And then Mel and I made our entrance to "R U Mine," improvising a little air guitar/head banging, followed by Eric taking our picture for the "Just Married" clipboard we had picked up (although in retrospect it should have been a selfie.)

This led into our first dance, to Billy Joel. The dances all had in common that they were not really choreographed in any sense. Mel and I had felt out how we would dance to "You're My Home" but it's not like we were there to put on a show for people, we just wanted something intimate and nice. We mouthed the words to each other. It was sweet. Later, when it was time for me to dance with my mom to "Let it Be," the first thing she said was "This is a long song!" Before adding, "I'm gonna do a twirl at the end." Okay, I said, I'll set you up for that. Fun times. Mel and Papa H had the same issue as I'd had, which was her lovely train pooling around her feet.

The meal was good but I could hardly enjoy it. Because I hadn't kept myself fed throughout the day (only because of awry pizza plans) my stomach had shrunk and sought revenge by the time I tried piling shrimp on top of the generous portion of beef on top of the pasta on top of the antipasto. The proceedings went a little awry as Demetri the DJ kept asking for confirmation on this and that, and dude I was so far beyond at this point.

We did a kissing game of "Show 'Em How It's Done" which was... instructional, to say the least. My side of the family was more interested than Mel's in prodding us on.

Kris had wanted to make a speech, which I remembered him saying but honestly took as a joke. But he meant it and was disappointed not to be on the agenda, so I - a few cups in and just generally feeling like "fuck it" by this point - went to the DJ to arrange it. It was a lovely, honest, sincere speech but it also ended with him saying "Don't you forget this boy, it's Mini-Bo Time" to confused chuckles. I think it ended up as one of those things that made so little sense nobody even noticed it had happened and forgot about it because while people are used to hearing coded references to in-jokes in these speeches, and this was Kris' version of that, it would seem to be deep in the territory of "I don't even understand what those syllables mean together so I won't ask," for most people, and it's best they don't. I wished he hadn't because it marred what was otherwise an incredibly thoughtful speech about both our familial relationship and his thoughts on mine and Mel's love, and while it didn't end up mattering to anybody else in the room, I just sometimes get overwhelmed by trying to balance my current existence with the past Kris and I share.

Which is sad - I'm going to come back someday and read this post and feel just that grain of salt about it all over again, when I shouldn't. It didn't mar the day, it didn't ruin the speech. If anything, Kris' speech was so achingly sincere that it risked upstaging Eric, who also dug deep to recall our true fondest times together (he picked the same memories I always linger on, what I call my "2 AM Frasier years") and maybe even the other speeches from Rielle and Mel's parents.

Somehow, the night got all off track, between trying to eat meals and circulate with our guests, and the fam getting restless and trying to open the dancefloor early (again, my family's lack of familiarity with the usual order of things came up, although this time it was started by little Aaron and the other family joining him. I just had to laugh.) The last bit of business was the Thank Yous, which I indicated were my last chance before I went back to just being a regular guy, not someone who is getting married, so I had to milk it for everything. I got a few laughs and said a lot of things. some of which landed, others maybe went on too long. I thought it went well (now-quite-tipsy Eric had some strong praise, asking how I was not a stand-up comic. Come on now, even I think that's laying it on thick.) but it was one aspect that nobody really commented on the next day, so, comme ci comme ca.

After that, more dancing, circulating. I made it my business to own the dance floor. We had a really good turnout for that. I busted out the ground moves early, because, FFS, it's my wedding. Later, I spoke to Rielle's Dan, whom, the first time we met, claimed he would challenge me to a dance-off at the wedding. Mel's and my reaction was basically, "First off, don't try to upstage the groom at a wedding. Second off, no you won't." He admitted I would have had him, but I saw him later and hey, he was moving real good. Any mere mortal, he could have defeated, sure.

I also made it my business just to talk with people, including some I hadn't met before. I spoke to Joe, and to Matt Clarke and to Tony and Katy and Tanya. I tried to check in with my family as much as possible but as always felt like I had shortchanged them some. I took shots with Papa H, danced with Mama H to "Wagon Wheel," I was all over the place. Mel later lamented that I had left her alone too much, but you know how I am at these things, even and especially my own. It's just one situation where, ironically, I have too much trouble staying still where she wants me to, because I just know I'm going to get caught up talking to Chris and Mike or Mel's Mom's friends for 20 minutes and there's a whole room full of people who want me. I am not, in my own life, an overly sociable person, but you get me to a major function, especially a wedding, and I am all over it. Put the spotlight on me too? Damn, just watch me go.

There will never be another night like it. I would say it was probably the wedding of the century. Way better than any royal wedding.

There were shenanigans afoot to get Eric fixed up with Katie M, but he wasn't feeling it. Mel had targeted Val for him, but she left early. Amanda chatted up David the photographer, about his gear. Some people got to the taco bar, others missed it. Cam had like five. Some got the cake. Linda the bartender did an amazing job and praised our party for being such good people treating her well (and tipping generously from the looks!) At one point I asked Eric for a 20 so I could tip, and he gave me a 50. One of my last dances of the night was with Ryan, and we had a heart-to-heart. Drunk Ryan is a hell of a guy. Mel permitted them to play the Macarena while we were out of the room, despite having put it on our no-play list. Despite what you might think about me, it was Mel who had to be reined in on the must-plays and no-plays. I reasoned, the guys is a pro, he'll play stuff that is good. Yes, we don't want to hear Chicken Dance, and I did feel the need to specify not to play Rude by Magic because I hate that song 365 days of the year and a hundred times moreso on my wedding day. Beyond that, he played good stuff, using our other recommendations to springboard. "Semi-Charmed Life" went good, and led into "All The Small Things" and "Mr. Brightside" (Me to Mel: I didn't even request this!") They played some heavy club stuff that mom said was "giving Ross a heart attack" before switching to disco. Part of me hoped they would do YMCA so Eric and I could fake our way through that. They didn't do "Jump Around" or "Apache" either (at least not while I was present) but you know, there isn't time for everything, and all of what got played worked.

The other thing is that when it's your wedding, people tend to want to say goodbye to you before they go, so the last hour or so was a parade of that as the party dwindled - he hazard of a small wedding I suppose, once one or two key tables are gone, that's the party. We wrapped it up a little after midnight with our big final dance to Elvis' "I'll Be Home For Christmas." I thought it would be nice to leave Christmas out of it until the last, sending us off into the night with a reminder of the season and a true sign that "wedding season" was over.

We went back to the hotel via limo with extra-drunk, incoherently emotional Eric, which made the wait somewhat trying. I left my treasured hat in the car too, still waiting to get it back. We flopped. Mama H had Ryan bring down our suitcase, an act he did not remember the next day.

The day after was a special kind of freeing. I eased out of having to worry about it, although I was flying high getting everyone's takes on how things had gone, I began to feel more stress about the wedding being over with, post-wedding jitters I called them. But beyond that it felt good to be done with, and to be married. I looked at my ring, I say "My Wife" this and that. Do I feel different? Will I? As I've said, we've been married for two years, now we're just really married.

It was a good day. We went back and packed up the venue. I was nervous both about time and space, since Mel and I hadn't checked out and who knew if we had enough car space to transport all the everything. But we did and we made it, and we ran into Eric and gave him a life home, which he was grateful for and the family was happy to do. They really love my family, which makes me feel good. I love them and I couldn't possibly be part of two better families.

And that's pretty much the story of how the World's Favourite Couple got married. There might be more to tell - I feel like there were hundreds of stories and I am absolutely thirsty for all of them, but that's all of mine. Well, the parts I remember a week later, which again is most of them. After sorting things out we went home Sunday night and spent Monday at the mall looking for coats and other last-minute stuff before our trip, and then on Tuesday off we went..

But that's like two other posts.

Hopefully I get around to them.

Personally I'm still on top of the world. I'm lucky to be with the woman I love and who loves and cares for me. As I told a room full of people the other week, this year, like all years, is going to be our year.

It's 2:30 now. I made a very specific point to stay up and write this when I could have just fallen asleep happily in bed. I was excited to do it, too! But, future Scotto, you are welcome for all this.

Keep on rockin'
-Mr. Scotto

Twenty-Five: This!!

Yesterday was my wedding day, a day I will probably reflect on for the rest of my life. All of a sudden this day is not some hypothetical thing in my future that I am planning and envisioning, but a real night that happened and that I have memories of. Conventional wisdom holds that they day goes by so fast that you don't even realize it, and I don't doubt that that's true for a lot of people, but for me, I felt the whole day, every second of it.

I woke up feeling nervous, for the first time during this entire process. My body and my psyche simply had not permitted nervousness to occur. This was something I wanted and something I was resolved to do, and worked hard to make happen, and even in rough moments when I worried about things that might go wrong or disappoint, it was never nervousness I felt. This was different though. I woke up in my unfamiliar surroundings, without Mel, and I knew I had a long day ahead of me doing things that, either I've never done them before, or never done them from this angle.

So yes, let the record show that from about 8:15 AM until about 9:30 AM, I was feeling a case of "the jitters."

After I got out of the shower (oh yes, this is going to be one of those luxuriously detailed posts, why shouldn't it be? How could it not?) I felt somewhat better, and then the guys arrived and we had a chance to set about our tasks for the day. Just getting dressed was a whole thing, with the suspenders, the cufflinks, the buttons, the pocket square - the guys in Oakville obviously hadn't received the same level of service I had gotten from the Tip Top in Toronto (where Phil had "thought of me" when he found out they wouldn't be doing rentals anymore, making me one of the last) where everything was explained to me in not even that much detail.

After Amanda arrived, we were ready to order pizza, and the photographer and videographer arrived in short order to take various photos, both staged and candid, of us doing our final preparations, or pretending to - pinning on boutonnieres, putting on jackets, tying up shoes - David and Matt both got a kick out of my Chucks, which were designed to match the ones Mel would be wearing. We wrapped a little bit early on that and had to wait around for the limo to arrive.

Once he did, we hurried into the car, perhaps in too much of a rush - Kris and Brandon forgot their jackets, and we forgot the pizza (probably the biggest thing to go wrong to that point in the day, which left me, and Eric, feeling quite hungry, since I was too jittery to eat much at once.) The ride over was smooth, the Limo was great, I put on some music once we were able to figure out how to connect my phone to the Limo's sound service, but there was not much traffic so we got to LaSalle after only three songs. If I had thought about it I would have downloaded a playlist onto my phone ahead of time, but as it is it's hard to encapsulate the significance of the moment in only three tracks (they were New Radicals' "You Get What You Give", Foster the People's "Coming of Age" and Thin Lizzy's "The Boys Are Back in Town", with Cake's "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" cueing up as we arrived. I only just now thought maybe the guys would've enjoyed hearing "Cult of Personality" but it's not downloaded on my phone and not exactly wedding-y. Kris would have marked out, though, as we say, and maybe that was left un-done based on the rest of the day.) Eventually, we confirmed that Mom and Ross had grabbed the coats - not surprisingly, we thought, based on Ross' awareness of anything in his house that isn't his.

Once we were at the venue, we just had time to mill around and have the run of the place. Again, maybe a bit too much time - it's possible the entire day's events could have been moved up by an hour or so, but honestly, why leave anything to chance? We arranged some things and waited and I tried to focus my thoughts on remembering my vows because I wanted to deliver them by heart. The sentiment was easy to recapture but the writer in me picked some very careful wordings that I didn't want to mess up, and I haven't had to memorize lines for anything in about ten years, I think since I gave that drama presentation where I had to wear the box on my head.

We tossed the football around, in a nod to Tommy Wiseau's The Room, one of Kris' many innovations to make the day special.  I will admit that in the end it felt like he went a bit overboard, but that's such a silly thing to complain about. He's such a sensitive, sentimental guy that it's easy to see where it's coming from, and the sentiment is really appreciated. In my way, I wished I could load the day with more sentiment and more meaning myself. I wanted to give the guys much more personal gifts than I did (Wallets, scarves to wear for photo ops) but didn't have the mental energy to do much more.

Eventually, the guests started arriving, and we greeted them and ushered them as much as possible. I was slightly miffed that most of the people who were arriving late were on my side. I love my family, I truly do, but sometimes I feel like they haven't had the opportunity to get used to moments of significance like this the way other families have. I have no doubt that they did their best to get their on time - there was a lot of people moving and a long road to drive - but when I was standing at the altar, I was not eager to be waiting to see when my grandma would arrive, or Aunt Lori, who was to do a reading. (In a weird way, it echoes our own lateness to Elizabeth's wedding, where we arrived at the last moments when we were theoretically supposed to be ushers. And it's only fitting since I was so late to Meagan's wedding that I came in at the same time she did. Believe me, I have always felt bad about that. At least all of Mel's bridal party partners arrived on time.)

No wedding is without hitches, you know, but as far as ours goes we got off pretty light. It feels unfair to dwell on them, because so much of what happened was so perfect, but I really do want to include a full account of it for good and bad. But it's true that nothing that went wrong with the wedding really bothered me. It's funny. I had told Mel and Rielle that whenever I had been to weddings I would notice flaws and odd moments and think "Mine won't be like that, it will be perfect, I'll have it on lockdown." And then the day arrives and you realize that's impossible, so you surrender and go "Whatever happens, happens." And then honestly, what happened felt pretty perfect, or at least I was protected from any serious issues. (Wellllll... I guess it's all about perspective, because yeah, hitches will be detailed below.)

We also got word that Priya was going to be "not early" due to a family emergency, but as the moments were ticking down and I was pressed to determine what, if anything, we should tell Mel, she appeared, and all was well.

Grandma did arrive and I escorted her to her seat (to the tune of LOST's "No Place Like Home," a sweeping melody that I had personally picked out as a potential seating music piece, in what I would say felt like honestly a perfect moment. Then the bridesmaids made their entrance, to the tune of Michael Giacchino's version of Shambala (again from LOST - I promise, Mel okayed it!) and I steeled myself. It had been long months. I had never seen The Dress. I never even saw any of the candidates since I could not know what it looked like. Which oddly put a lot of pressure on me to react great when I finally saw it, which ran the risk of my reaction being overly rehearsed, one-size-fits-all.

Then opening strains of Mel's personally requested harp version of "Bitter Sweet Symphony" struck. (I think it was that moment it was used in Riverdale that Mel turned to me and said, "Can I come down the aisle to this?" And voila.)

The truth is, I was wowed. I would have been no matter what, of course. If she had come out in her Cat tights and pajama shirt I would have still been wowed, probably - I was seeing my bride to be at the moment before we were getting married. But her dress was elegant and beautiful and perfect for her and just plain perfect. Her makeup and hair was stunning. And she was her radiant self. I mouthed "Oh my god" as soon as we were face to face.

The ceremony was a huge success, barring (hitch) Priya's iPad going into sleep mode a few times. I dropped a line in my vows but only Priya and I would know it. I think they came off well. Mel's were beautiful, as she spoke them through tears of love. I wanted to hug her and hold her right there. Sherlie's reading was beautiful, I really felt the words as I looked into Mel's eyes. There was another minor hitch with the signing where Priya indicated the wrong line for Eric to sign, thus calling into question the whole deal. We'll see how it shakes out...

Signing track: "Love Needs Me," by Joe Chammas, which we picked with under 2 weeks to go when nothing else worked - "Thirteen" has that awkward line about telling your dad get off my back, other suggestions like "We're Goong To Be Friends" and "At My Most Beautiful" didn't feel right. I dared not pitch Eels' "Beginners Luck," which would be too hip for the room and a little too rough.

From there, things proceeded. Lori's reading, also wonderful. A few more words, kisses, Mr and Mrs.

Recessional song: a string version of "Don't Stop Believing," beloved by Mel because you can kind of hear it in The Wedding Singer.

From there... well, I have to leave it off for a second part to really dig in. There's nothing I love more than having stories to tell and this wedding has left me woth so many of them.

Keep on rockin'
Mr. Scotto

Twenty-Four: I Owe You This Much (Nothing's On Upper Middle)

This post comes to you from the spare bedroom of my mom's place, where I have arranged to spend the night prior to my wedding. I was embarrassed to realize that I had been making arrangements with photographers and videographers without fully confirming my mom (and Ross') knowledge, which is distressingly, embarrassingly in character. I had been so caught up in wedding planning that it becomes hard to keep track of who needs to know what, especially since - and I try not to hold this against anybody - I often feel isolated from my family these days.

It's embarrassing and I hope it doesn't prove too much of an inconvenience or a bother, but it has  soured the situation for me, just slightly. That last hit of pre-wedding frustration, oh, I was wondering where it was going to come from.

I'm writing this because, like many things I write (and many things I don't) if I don't get it out now, it will be forgotten in the crushing tide of life. The wedding is tomorrow. The next chapter of my life ostensibly begins, but what I'm hoping is that I'm "back to normal." Will I feel like acting differently as a married man? Or is it true that, as I've been telling people for months, I've really been married for years? The truth is probably somewhere in between.

I'm writing this because, as I said, if I don't it will be forgotten. That doesn't mean it's necessarily important to remember, but memory seems to be at a premium these days. I am waiting for my phone to charge to a satisfactory degree so I can use it as an alarm. In this strange, surprisingly cold, room, the outlets are far from the bed.

It's lonely without Mel. I always worry about getting to sleep without her near me, because I always had the tendency of being kept up by my mind. Which is funny because sleeping next to her often presents its own challenges. So when I finally do fall asleep, I usually have the best sleep ever, a fact I am duly embarrassed by and try not to rub in.

The day before my wedding. It feels like it should be bleeding significance, but it was just a day to get stuff done. Ran some last minute errands, wrote my letter to Mel pouring my heart out about our love. We went to the venue to set up our centrepieces and other items. We are T-Minus however many hours, you know?

The night before was our rehearsal. My groomsmen are not all always fully formed adults, and part of me wishes I could get over that and enjoy it for the earnest playfulness it is and even participate, and part of me is like damnit, just pretend to be a normal-ass person for my sake right now and put a lid on your big kid instincts. But that's wrong of me to think, because I knew what I was getting. That, I can deal with.  Last minute discussions of arrangements, I am flummoxed. Quite a few people were getting at me about those in the final weeks.

As much as I had said, you become a celebrity to the people in your life when you are getting married, they also all feel like they have full access to you and their problems are as important to you as they are to them. It could very well be a two-way street -- who am I really, to bigtime my friends and family, just because I happen to be doing this wedding thing? But at the same time, your own wedding is supposed to be the one time when you can be a diva.

So, the rehearsal went fine, and we went for dinner after at Chuck's, and that was fine. Eric told me he was fighting a cold, which on top of working until 1 AM tonight makes me very worried. Last thing I need is more things to worry about. I worry about people's reactions to this and that minor thing, but honestly I need to take my own advice and remember that it's their fault if they don't like it.

Despite all the stress, I was reflecting today that there was a lot of good stuff about doing a wedding. It was fun to source vendors and find photographers (cool people, I wish I could have hired them all and been friends with them - did I say that already?) And executing Mel's dreams and ideas. The tough part for me is pinning down those fine details.

Well, I have reached - or proclaimed myself to reach which is nearly the same thing - a state beyond. Where I know things will go wrong here and there and I will myself not to care. I was reflecting how at other peoples' weddings I saw minor flaws and thought "Not at my wedding, I'm going to have that shit under control." And only now do I realize that I never could have. That it is simply too much for anyone short of a ten-thousand-dollar event planning expert to pull off perfectly.

Someone's dinner will be cold. Some of the wrong music will get played. One or two people will miss a cue. Dinner will run long or be rushed through. It's over. It's done. It's basically already happened.

It's not a fairy tale wedding. It was never going to be. We are authentic people who want our weird, lumpy life to be reflected in the wedding we give people. That's my feeling. And that comes with its own catches.

I just can't wait.

But here I am, sitting up on my tablet in this strange bed, having nearly fallen asleep in a reclining chair watching Dateline about John Sandoval with my mom. That's how I spent the night before my wedding, waiting for my real life to begin. Before I left Mel, it was just mundane details of putting together our suitcase for tomorrow, and playing our song quickly on my phone. We'd had soup for dinner, the low key night we had wanted.

I wonder what 2020 will bring. A refreshed romance? A new look at my career aspirations? Or more doldrums and frustrations? Well, I know whatever it is, it's me and her. It's us.

Enough stalling. This post has stubbornly refused to grow into anything seriously profound. I used my best stuff already.

Keep on rockin
-Scotto

Twenty-Three: LOUD (all at once)

Have I ever told you 23 is my number? It's one of "the" numbers, of course, but before I knew that, I picked it as my signon at HMV, our of thin air (Cashier 23, password 456. Yeah.) I was almost 23 when I picked it. Then I moved into 23 Culham St. If you squint it kind of looks like a sideways version of my initials.

This is the second post of the day. I decided it all warranted a second post since the first post cleared out all of my wedding stuff and this is for other stuff. Which is a misleading designation because everything is related to the wedding these days. All this to say, scroll down to the next post before you read this one. Or don't, actually, because it's not like it was a big cliffhanger.

I won't be back at work until December 23 (hey...) This is the longest I will have been away from my desk ever. In fact, I have never taken a vacation of that length from any job, with my previous record being a full week I took off back when I was at HMV. Other than that it's mostly long weekends, because capitalism has me bad. I was very stressed setting things up, and worse because it was pointed out that I had done a few Patently Wrong Things at the last minute (oops... well, you never stop learning on this job.)

The team all took me out for coffee, and we talked wedding stuff and life and work. Honestly, I like just chitchatting with these people and would like more opportunities for these things. I also hurriedly bought a Secret Santa gift, which I felt compelled to participate in despite not being there for the actual exchange, because Becc, one of the new faces this past season, basically willed the whole thing into existence. She's nice, but she's a lot. At coffee, they presented me with a nice card signed by everybody (I've always wanted one of those! Actually, I got one last year as a thanks for always having candy at my desk.)

It was also the Christmas party. I had ditched on any number of potential holiday fun things this year because I have always been too busy and too stressed to do any of it, but I resolved to make the Christmas Party the One Thing I Did. I missed last year due to a clerical error, but decided not to rectify it because we had a very nice Pod Celebration with the Axe-Throwing and the Italian Restaurant. This one was flipped.

The event was at Ricardas, a nice restaurant, in the building's Atrium, a fine space for circulating. I took a moment to reflect how things had changed since I've been here, as the Inventory team has turned over almost completely. It has also not been lost on me how much less team spirit this has engendered - fewer meetings, less community. Is it a bad thing or a good thing? It's a thing.

I mingled as best I could and tried not to latch onto any particular person. It was my last chance to talk/be talked to about the wedding. I am going to miss the minor celebrity status that comes with getting married. People look at you and the one thing they know is "That guy's getting married." So they talk to you about that. And me, I do my best - not always successfully - to turn it back around and find out what's going on with them. I hate people to think I'm full of myself. But soon it will just be "That guy recently got married," and then "That guy...is there." Amy, who had recently returned from maternity leave and thus missed my entire arc, was particularly interested in hearing the whole thing.

Still, there were reminders throughout the night that my place is at the edge of glory, if anywhere at all. Without that conversational motivator, I was a dead fish conversationally, as there were too many people and too many competing elements, and I am just not interesting enough on that basis. I need one-on-one conversations but I can't get them there. I never have. I am still me. Still the same body you've always known. Well I guess I haven't grown.

Still though, I got to hang out with the Inventory Peeps and AJ and the Supply Chain kids. Then something weird and unexpected happened - I won plane tickets in the raffle, and became a minor celeb all over again. Earlier that night I had even said to Murray, "What would I need with plane tickets, I just paid for a honeymoon!" (I was really chuffed about it for my second honeymoon next year, until I got home and realized they were domestic. Oh well, I hear Banff is lovely.)

Edit, 4:30 PM: I've been thinking about this all day and realized I had left out what I thought was the central point of this, which also does not make me sound very good to admit. Let's face it, Indigo is staffed by any number of appealing, attractive-looking people, male and female (let's focus on the female) in both conventional and unconventional ways. And watching them all dressed up in their finery letting it all out - dancing, mingling, laughing and having fun - left me strangely melancholy, in a way I tend to be, at weddings that aren't my own or other rare formal events (well, big company Christmas parties, and that's it I suppose.) And this despite the fact that I have found love in my life and am less interested in sex (all things being equal) than at any point in my life, I guess because despite my commitment, I still have eyes and a heart and a soul - I can still see joyful, attractive people and feel a pang that I am not with them. Only now, I get to go home to somebody who loves me. That makes the pang less pangy. In fact it used to be crushing because it was the same way - attractive, charismatic people and me on the outside looking in. Now I know that I've found the person who loves me, more deeply and really than any of those superficially appealing people would, and it does my soul good. So in the end I don't sound so bad. Let's face it, just because I'm committed doesn't mean all my senses leave me. There's hot people out there. (OK that does sound bad, but let's engage with it instead of pretending it's not so.) I just happen to have found my person. Weird how I felt like I needed to get all this out, because I sound way less awful without it, but I think I wanted the record clear, even of self-censorship for my own good. Okay, back to the story as I wrote it this morning.

I drank my Rye and Ginger, and circulated, and felt as lonely as a cloud, pouting in the loudness, until the liquor hit enough that I could start dancing. It's "Moves Like Jagger" that does it, you know - I actually do have the moves like Jagger, the pointy finger, the Jimmy legs, the Rooster. I have cultivated them since my HMV days. I also have some moves like Michael, but not that many, and I'm rusty. Then, in a dance circle, I pulled out a one-man Kid n Play, followed by my specialty, the Windmill. Satisfied (and a little beat) from there I made a tasteful exit, grabbing a few souvenir selfies on my way out the door, home to get warm and cozy with my waiting fiancée, only a little later than I had hoped.

As I have mentioned below, I am sitting in the Starbucks in Indigo at Eaton Centre. I visited the books. I found an award winner to look at, and felt sad. Real writing, you know, doesn't happen on your lunch break or in the moments before sleep. I'm sorry to say, you can't just poop out a masterpiece between shifts. At least, I couldn't. it takes time and contemplation and mental real estate I don't have to spare at this time in my life. It makes me sad. Ameema, who is always fun to talk to at these things but we never seem to talk at work, conversed with me about my writing and ambitions and I swore in January I would get back to it. That's true, I mean it, because it's as necessary as air. But I won't be in the form of a laudable masterwork I dream I may have in me, but in the form of cheapo e-books that are their own thrill to get done (really!)

If you've got greatness in you, would you do us all a favour, and keep it to yourself? Harvey Danger.

If there isn't more to tell, there will always be more to ruminate on, but I actually have things to do today and I've been here for nearly 90 minutes.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

Twenty-Two: Traffic, Static, Automatic

It would be cool if this post's title actually referred to anything but they are three rhyming words I have plucked out of thin air and decided to use as a title because I would forget them if I ever did have some reason to use them. Crafting a good title has always been an understated but essential part of this blog's experience, ever since I decided many years ago that the titles were going to be typically - but not exclusively - completely random. Sometimes they really do relate to the post, or thoughts I have had. Sometimes they are jumping-off points or phrases I have heard, or mutated versions of. I have never really called that out, no have I called out the bizarre practice of assigning every post a sequential number, which used to reset every month until posting became so scarce that it was only every year or so. And here we are.

I'm days away from my wedding. I should be busy. I should be doing things. A funny (not so funny) thing happens when you are planning a wedding, which is that you feel stressed when you are not stressed, because you think you should be working on things. That 10:30 PM thing of Mel reminding me just as we have laid our heads down to sleep, oh, what about this, what about that. Stress becomes normal and an absence of it becomes the stress. The wedding is in three days. Most everything is tied up and done to the fullest extent. Mel is having anxieties because her body just doesn't know what to do. I have been telling people Saturday is going to be great but Sunday is going to be the best day of my life. It will be the first day of the rest of my life. My married life. Our life.

I have a lot of thoughts, most of which will have to wait.

Last weekend was the final-ish round of Wedding Things After the issue with the mirror Mel was extremely disillusioned (am I using that word right?) about the girl we had wanted to write on it out in Hamilton, but she had quickly found another girl in Oakville who would do the same job for cheaper. We brought her the mirror Saturday morning at 11, then went for Breakfast and hit Homesense, where we bought various things including a copy of Rob Sheffield's Dreaming the Beatles, a book I enjoyed back in 2017 just before I came to Home Office, a book about one of my favourite bands by one of my favourite authors.

We had some back-and-forth with one of our vendors, Mel went to Shoppers to get recommended a lipstick, we attempted to book a spa getaway, unsuccessfully (lots of people want massages in December! Go figure.) We reached out to dad and went to his place for dinner - imposing somewhat, since they had planned to have leftover pizza for dinner, which is both sad and awesome.

During the week we went out for coffees with Tony and his partner Lori, my first meeting with her. I had elected to invite him to the wedding as someone who has been my friend at work for over 2 years. I hadn't told him Isiah and Ben were also invited, which is likely down to the fact that I hadn't decided for sure they were invited until late in the process. They made my early list of people I wanted, then Isiah left Indigo and we fell out of touch, then we reconnected a few months ago and I decided it was good.

We settled things as best we could with the DJ and the Photographer. David, the photog, has always been good, although both he and our videographer forgot we are not doing a first look, so some of their normal rules are out the window. The DJ was, I would say, overall a positive experience (pending the actual event) but not without hitches. I've found that working with the people who real Wedding Biz Insiders are the ones I have least liked working with, whereas fringe people like photographers and decorators and bakers and such are much more amenable and friendly. Particularly, the photographers are all such cool people who love their work and love love and I wished I could have hired three or four of them after our meetings earlier this year just to have them all at my wedding.

Funny how we went to all this trouble to find someone who could accommodate outdoor evening photography and now the weather might not even permit.

I tried my best not to be a groomzilla with the DJ. The joke was that I was going to write a whole playlist myself. In reality, I conceded, yes, these are trained professionals who know their biz and know how to get a party started. I've been to many weddings by this point in my life and usually the DJ provides a solid experience. I had to tamp down on the country requests and musts from Mel.  "Oh what about this, what about that?" "We can request this and that if we feel like it on the day." We did put some songs on our no-play list - Macarena, Chicken Dance, Rude. I swear, if I hear that song on the one day of the year that is supposed to be about me I am going to lose my shit. That's the one thing. Every other transgression I could forgive.

Friday, Mel was feeling that anxiety, so I stayed with her while she picked up her dress (the handoff was supposed to happen at the mall but we only had to go to the Subway - a funny place for a wedding dress) and went in late, e-mailing my co-workers that I would be late due to a "personal issue." They understood.

The next weekend we picked up the mirror but found it had a few errors - some of which were the fault of the girl who had done the design, some of which were due to my rendering (I didn't like being blamed for things that weren't my fault but accepted the ones that were with no small amount of embarrassment.) Luckily, she was perfectly happy to fix it that day.

We brought Mel's parents over to my Mom's for dinner, which was nice. I think Mom and Ross were excited to be hosts and Mel's parents were happy to be there too, so all in all it was a good night. Afterward we had budgeted time to put together our favours, but we had found out the bags we had gotten didn't expand wide enough to house the Graham Crackers we were using. We had gone with shorter baggies after testing with larger ones that we decided were too tall. But we didn't do a test run with the shorties, thinking it was all the same. Oops.

Quickly, I checked to see if Michaels was still open at 9:30. It was, for another half hour, so I grabbed Mel's dad's keys and ran out the door. The first song I heard on the radio was The Verve's Bitter Sweet Symphony, a song of some personal significance to this wedding. Good omens.

I got back and we had an assembly line going. There was some concern we would run out of marshmallows, the only item we didn't have a firm count of, but it was just enough. Well, it was enough with a healthy overage. A lot of them were too squished to be considered ideal, but in the bag they look fine. Ish.

I have more to say. I want to keep sitting here writing. It's my day off and I am in the Starbucks in Indigo. Go figure.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto