Yaay, the weather’s beautiful (so far!)


Yesterday, the day of the rehearsal, was cool and drizzly, which was acceptable (it’s better than baking hot), but not ideal. Today, the morning of the wedding, has dawned sunny and cool — the weather says there’s going to be a high of 75. Hurrah! Chester County looks really, really beautiful in this kind of weather.


I got up this morning and rode my motorcycle to Northbrook Farms nearby for my wedding breakfast (apple cider doughnuts, scrambled eggs, and coffee), mingling with all the other yuppies in cycling gear and digital cameras (and Blogs, for all I know.) Now I’m posting with short, clean, wedding-manicured nails. As soon as I push the “Post & Publish” button, I’m going to go take a shower, put on my suit, put the rings in my pocket, and go get married to the most wonderful woman in the world!

Yaay, the weather’s beautiful (so far!)

Shucks, I have the bestest co-workers in the world

Shucks, I have the bestest co-workers in the world!


My Outlook calendar spawned a meeting request several days ago: “catchup and discuss HTML process debrief”, which turned out to be a totally unexpected wedding surprise lunch-and-champagne-and-dessert thing. Kieran even baked a cake! My co-workers are the best, as proved in the completely candid and non-posed photograph at left.

Shucks, I have the bestest co-workers in the world

Directions to the wedding and reception

Folks have been asking me about directions to the wedding and reception, so here they are!


* Latitude and longitude provided specifically for GPS geeks. Like you, Francesco. Those coordinates are for you. If that isn’t enough, here are some
satellite
photos!

Directions to the wedding and reception

Kate and I will get married in…

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Kate and I will get married in…

Kate’s Punk Rock/Billy Idol/Sombrero Birthday!

 

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<<
Slide of 8.
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(Click the arrows to see the pictures.)

Slide 2:Kate’s brother Matt came in from LA two weeks early. Matt plays bass for a hardcore band called Terror (“Straightforward hardcore with a negative approach!”: DemoBand Site), and he just finished a 20-day, 20-city tour. On the tour, Terror hooked up with other hardcore bands like Death Threat and Over My Dead Body. Matt’s got leopard-spotted LA hair now, and he can pull one hell of a Billy Idol punk-rock face on demand. There’s the Billy Idol face in the Healey.

Slide 3: The crew at Senora’s Authentic Mexican Restaurant in West Chester is hardcore, but with a positive approach. Kate’s dad canceled a customer appointment to drop off party supplies, and (from left:) Andrew, Steve, and Heather decorated the table with balloons and sombreros. They also readied the Birthday Flan. Senora’s is the BEST RESTAURANT IN THE WORLD. If you speak to Steve in Spanish, he will respond in Italian.

Slide 4: Kate looks happy here, ’cause she’s just sat down to a pretty table and been given a Snoopy balloon. Dignity intact (so far), she smiles innocently.

Slide 5: Yeeeeah, that’s the stuff. Andrew hands out the sombreros. They’re surprisingly heavy!

Slide 6: Andrew lights the candles on the Birthday Flan, while Steve (just outside the frame) exhorts the entire restaurant to sing. This is working out just great!

Slide 7: The Smith clan is unflappable: once again, Matt pulls his Billy Idol face on request. The Billy Idol/Austin Healey/Sombrero combination is eerie, but I’m sure that the right person could somehow extract a blockbuster movie from it.

Slide 8: As for me, I don’t have the sombrero mojo, apparently: the best I can do is Terminally Bemused.


If you want to wish Kate a happy birthday, you can do it here!

Kate’s Punk Rock/Billy Idol/Sombrero Birthday!

The Count of Monte Sandwich


Kate and I will be getting married in two weeks, in a Quaker ceremony at Downingtown Friends Meeting. She’ll be making a stylish entrance in the car pictured on the right, a 1962 Austin-Healy 3000 Mark II. (more pictures of a similar car.) Her dad found it languishing in a customer’s garage, bought it, and restored it. It’s not a pampered Ferris Bueller showpiece, though — it’s a driveable cross between a roller coaster and a rocket sled. Well, kind of drieveable, anyhow. This weekend, in anticipation of our nuptual getaway, Bob “Snuffy” Smith took me out and taught me to drive it.


Which was, of course, kind of stressful. The stiff-upper-lip ethos may have been just the thing for extending the Britannic Empire to the four corners of the earth, but it makes for some pretty gruesome ergonomics behind the wheel. Whether or not you view that as a drawback, of course, is a matter of taste. Any schmuck can smile at the pretty girls while rolling around in a Porsche Boxter. If, however, you can maintain your sang-froid while simultaneously maintaining pressure on the handbrake, gunning the engine to synchronize the gearbox, eyeing the tach, and keeping the shifter in first with a propped knee, then you’ve become a better man.


Which I’m not, yet — a better man, that is. There’s a special kind of anguish that comes when you’re stopped at a shady intersection between two sidewalk cafes, people are smiling and standing up to get a better look at your hip ride, and you miss the synch on first gear and your little red race car lets out a loud, ratchety squeal of pain. Then stalls. With your future father-in-law in the passenger seat.


Later, after I got a little better at managing the transmission, the car put a huge smile on my face. Or a grimace — taking a page from the toe-toasting Rugby traditions in Tom Brown’s School Days, maybe, the Healey engineers had routed a blast of savagely hot engine air on my right foot. Grimacing painfully, eyeballing the tach needle, carefully shifting the gears, I felt hella cool. Like, Fellini-Italian-Count cool. Damn, what a great car.


Skraaaaaaaaawk!! Groooooan!! (Nuts!)

The Count of Monte Sandwich