A couple of you asked to see some photos taken at the weddings.
Some professional photos taken at my friend's wedding can be seen at:
http://www.teresahalton.com
(It really was as beautiful a spot as it looks in the photos.)
Photos taken by friends and family at my brother-in-laws wedding can be viewed at:
http://www.iwalt.com/bryceandlou/photos.html
Photos from my brother's wedding will be coming soon.
About 4 years ago, my husband and I adopted a small black cat from the local animal shelter. She's no great looker but has the most wonderful coat of fur. The people at the animal shelter called her Velvet — once we got her home, she rapidly became Fuzzball.
She was very enthusiastic about people and loved attention, but was also terrified of them. When we first got her and would pick her up, she would go entirely limp (no laughing matter when it's 10 pounds of limp cat in your arms). She also desperately wanted to sit on a lap, but was too nervous to sit on either me or my husband. Instead she'd wedge herself between the two of us.
Gradually Fuzzball became braver and these days will even tolerate visitors to the apartment (whom she tends to view with lofty, if somewhat nervous, scorn). She certainly has no difficulty with sitting on our laps — the problem tends to be preventing her from dribbling all over us with happiness.
We did have a bit of a flash back the other day. I was being a pest to my husband and trying to lick his nose. He turned around and tickled me and I fell on the floor in a giggling heap. I noticed the cat nearby looking a little nervous so I talked to her for a moment or two and scratched her behind her ears. Walt leaned over to the desk, picked something up and threw it into the wastepaper basket across the room. The Fuzzball decided it was no longer safe for small cats and dove under the living room chair (her favorite place of refuge in times of trouble, eg when a vet's visit is threatened).
I eventually coaxed her out, and she even sat on Walt's lap before the end of the evening, but the whole series of events had obviously disturbed her. The good news, though, is that at least she has a good home now where she is indulged and loved.
I've been at my current job for just about 3 months, and in that time I have gone to three weddings. One took me all the way to the other side of America, but the other two were local. They were all astonishingly different considering that just one culture produced them.
At the end of September, a good friend got married in a redwood grove. This setting was gorgeous. I love the idea of getting married among trees. I had a fantastic time, partially because I got to see some of my old co-workers who I had been missing. It was also great because I didn't have to be in any photos.
We had to leave a little early, though, as my husband needed to jump on a plane for his brother's bachelor party in North Carolina. From all accounts (at least the ones people have told me) the bachelor party was fun rather than wild, though one partier did throw up all down the hallway and all over the bathroom before finally making it to the toilet (which clogged).
The second wedding was in North Carolina; my brother in law married one of the sweetest people I have ever met. The wedding took place down on the sand dunes by the ocean in Wilmington. They had a Quaker wedding. The idea behind this is wonderful. The vows are said by the couple to each other surrounded by their families and friends. If anyone is moved to speak they can. When no one was speaking everyone sat quietly and reflected on what had just been said. The wedding seemed communal rather than formal.
Unfortunately, I was in a lot of photographs at this wedding. The outfit I had packed I chose on the basis that it didn't wrinkle easily and didn't bother to try it on before I left. It was much shorter than I remembered (I hadn't worn it since college) — not short enough to be scandalous, just short enough to make sure I don't bend over to pick things up.
This year's final wedding was in Yosemite and happened just last weekend. My brother married a wonderful woman in the Yosemite chapel. This was by far the grandest of the three weddings. The scenery was glorious, the accommodations were comfortable, and the food was delicious. The party was also great; some of my favorite people all gathered together.
As I was a bridesmaid I was in a lot of photos, but I came prepared knowing that was going to happen. And at least the skirt wasn't too short — it was floor length.
It's been a good three months. I'm delighted to have new relatives, new families and new friends connected to me by marriage.
People tend to remember me as the person with the strange name and the English accent. The English accent began to pay off — in very literal terms — just recently. I'm still waiting on the name.
A former co-worker asked me to do a voice over for a couple web videos. As all I need to do is stand and read a script out loud, it's a very easy way to earn a little extra money. (I couldn't do it for a living, though; among other considerations, the boredom would kill me.)
What I can't get over is how odd it is. It's as if someone one day said to you, "You know, you have really great wrists. Would you mind if we took some photographs of them and paid you for your trouble?" Assuming there was no wrist fetish in sight, there really wouldn't be anything wrong with this. It's just weird having something so everyday and personal as a wrist (or a voice) become a commodity.
What does make me thoughtful (and which I'm a little thin skinned about) is that people have a tendency to over identify me with how I speak. This ranges from innocuous to annoying.
In the annoying category are the people who only have two ways of assessing me: "foreigner" or "American." As I've been here since I was a child, it's entertaining to watch them twitch and try to figure out which category I belong in. Normally, after a bit of mental struggle, they make a proclamation in favor of one or another and then move away, quickly.
A couple web videos really won't make any difference to how strongly people identify me with my voice, and I'd be too stubborn to stop even if it did (which is probably why I still have an accent). It's just odd and disheartening that, in the eyes of many people, the way I speak becomes an extension of my personality rather than just how I pronounce words.
Normally on my weblog I write about books. I love reading books, and I like writing about them. Every so often, though, I think that a personal page would be a good idea, so I decided to set one up.
I tried a personal weblog once before, and what I rapidly found was that though my life is intensely interesting to me, it's hard to make it interesting for the casual reader. So instead of a regular weblog, I'm going to treat this as an occasional update for those who really want to know what I've been involved in recently.
Happy reading.
