My Best Friend’s Wedding.

Okay, so when we left off in The Wedding of the Century, Adam and I were readying for the cocktail hour. Adam had joked that it was like going to prom and it totally was! Except better because it included alcohol in a glass rather than mixed with fruit juice in a Gatorade bottle. I had gotten a new dress, a mani and pedi, my hair was done, and I spent far too long on my makeup. We were dressed, ready to go, and determined to actually take a picture at this wedding (something we inexplicably failed to do at Allie’s wedding. Unreal). We succeeded, but barely: we have only the below crappily lit iPhone photo. Better than nothing, right? Eh.

The Food
Cocktail hour was held in another room at the Merion – and later transformed into the dessert room – and it was the most lavish, amazing spread I have ever seen. Way better than prom. There were passed appetizers that included crab cakes, spanokopita, and lamp chops carried and served from enormous skewers. There was a pasta station and maybe a pizza station, a monstrous display of cheese, fruit, and veggies in the middle of the room. There was a carving station and a seafood bar, complete with oysters, crab, and lobster. And that’s just what I saw. The room was enormous and I was too busy consuming the exact right number of drinks that one consumes prior to making a speech to partake in the festivities. Adam and I made rounds, before settling into a cozy corner with my bestest to talk (about the food, of course). Before long, Rooms Masi summoned me to the bridal suite – a downstairs one – to entertain my Rooms. She was in a new outfit – equally beautiful and ornate – and looked stunning. The other bridesmaids joined us soon after, and we enjoyed some girl talk and a champagne toast.

Much too quickly, cocktail hour ended and we lined up for our entrances into the ballroom, an immense space with a large, long dance floor in the middle. The room was, of course, beautifully decorated – have I mentioned Rooms does event planning for a living? – and my favorite part was the table numbers. Each number had a little fact about Gunjan and Jyotin on it; for example, at table 6, under the ’6,’ a caption read, ‘The number of months they dated before Jyotin told Gunjan he loved her.’ (Note: he told her after six months; we all know he knew it after about two and a half.) It was adorable, informative, and a really sweet personal touch.

The Speech
Gunjan and Jyotin had their first dance, and then it was time for the MoH speeches. Now, I’ve mentioned how calm my co-MoH, Allie, was the entire weekend. Well, three minutes before we took the microphone, Allie started crying. Hysterically. Like, literally, sucking in breaths and sobbing. I reassured her that I would do most of the speaking and we could do anything for three minutes and we’d only be talking to Gunjan and Jyotin. Allie took a deep breath and was still wiping her tears as we walked to the front of the room to speak.

Now, I don’t generally stress public speaking. Part of all of my jobs has involved presentations in the community, and if you can get up in front of auditoriums filled with juvenile delinquents, a group of family and close friends isn’t a big deal. But I don’t know if it was the lack of time to prepare, or Allie telling me how nervous *she* was, but I was kind of nervous; hence, the lack of eating and the need for vodka. Plus, when I said I was nervous, people kept (very sweetly) telling me they weren’t worried and they knew I’d be fantastic. The bar was high.

Truth be told, I have *no idea* what I actually said. But this is what I meant to say…

I first met Gunjan eight years ago, when our dorm rooms were next to each other. We bonded quickly over a shared love of junk food, planners, General Hospital, and all of the fun that being young and in college brings. However, for two best friends, Gunjan and I have surprisingly little in common. She used to joke that she’d go into a clothing store, find something she’d never, ever wear, and buy it for me as a gift. But what we *do* share is a bond that you can only have with a person you grew up with. I don’t have a sister, but If I did, I know we wouldn’t be as close as me and Gunjan. For nearly a decade, Gunjan and I have shared our rooms, our lessons, and our lives. Gunjan is the person who taught me to stand up for myself, and what loyalty really means. We got each other through our first heartbreaks and bought each other our first legal drinks when we turned 21. Together we learned that everything really is going to be okay. When I look at Gunjan now, I am so proud of the woman she’s become. She’s the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. She is strong, brave, and has never been afraid of who she is or what she wants, and she goes after it with her whole heart.

When I first met Gunjan, she already had her wedding date picked. No groom in mind, mind you, but her date was in her planner. We’re a few years past that date now, but one of the lessons Gunjan and I have learned is that it doesn’t matter when or what you’re supposed to do. What matters is that you make the choice that is right for you, And I’m so thrilled that she found someone that makes her so happy. Jyotin is such a kind man with so much ambition, and, of course, they make a stunningly beautiful couple. The honesty and and comfort they have with each other makes it clear to everyone who knows them that they are truly best friends. I remember a time when Gunjan and I were living together in NYC; she was cooking dinner – I know that sounds out of character; maybe she was trying to impress Jyotin? – and he was watching her with that huge smile that he has and I knew then that she was going to be okay. I am so happy and so excited for you both, and I love you both so very much. Take care of each other, love each other, laugh together.

The Feelings
I remember my cousin Derek’s wedding in Atlanta. I was in high school, and it was the first wedding I attended when I really knew what was going on. There were tissues outside the church, and I wondered aloud what they were for; my mom took several and said, “Emma, a lot of people cry at weddings.” Why? I thought weddings were happy? I laughed her off, and she refrained from saying, “I told you so,” when, seven minutes into the ceremony, I stole two of hers.

I always cry at weddings. Happy tears, of course – for the couple, for their future, for their happiness. And Rooms’ wedding was no exception; in fact, it was the most emotional weekend for me, ever. The magnitude of this event was felt even if, for much of the weekend, I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why.

The thing is, Rooms and her hubs have been together for more than four years, and they’ve also lived together for the last couple. In theory, nothing was really going to change after the wedding, other than that they’d be able to file taxes together. And this is what Rooms kept saying in response to everyone’s comments of ‘Omg, you’re really getting married’ and ‘Omg, things are never going to be the same again.’

But there are reasons that weddings are a big deal. Because while the only tangible changes are in legal terms, when Gunjan and Jyotin officially became wife and husband, we all officially felt the beginning of the end of young adulthood. Marriage is a grown-up commitment, it’s for keeps, it’s permanent, and we all felt the full weight of the word. With her vows to Jyotin, I knew that it was official that we would never live in a house with our best friends, being young and carefree and single, again. And while this wasn’t exactly a surprise, I have never been more aware that that era has ended.

After the reception was the after-party at the hotel bar. Naturally. Champagne and tequila shots were being passed around and the atmosphere was absolutely jovial. At one point, Rooms and I slipped away to change her into pajamas and put her poor bewildered nephew – who remained happy and sweet despite being under a year old and in a bar at 1 AM with a bunch of his boisterous family members – to bed. As I watched Rooms rocking him gently, his head rest against her shoulder, eyelids fluttering, I found myself verklempt. Again. And then she made the most poignant, most honest statement, voicing something we both knew in our hearts, but had never been spoken.

Some people are meant to have blossoming careers. I’m meant to be a mom.

I know. I knew it when were in college, picking her major based on which credits she’d already completed. I knew it when she left her first job because it wasn’t fulfilling. I knew it when she met Jyotin, and when I couldn’t stop myself from thinking how cute their babies would be. And I certainly knew it when she married him earlier that day. Before long, my best friend would become a mom, the one job that I expect she will find to be equally challenging and rewarding, the job that she will love beyond all others.

And as much as I sometimes want to fight it, and sometimes want to turn back the clock to when we lived in our Barbie pink room and our biggest concern was who got the driveway spot, that’s not a possibility. We are growing up. And as terrified as I am of how babies will effect our relationship – because, omg, watching Gunjan’s sister-in-law manage three children under five, and the luggage that three children under five require, was probably the most shocking part of the weekend for me; the work, the nonstop, continual work of being a mother, made me wonder if Rooms would ever have time to tap out a text to me again. Ever – I could not be more happy for this woman I call my ‘person,’ my sister. We may not be young and single and childless forever, but that’s okay; life is about so much more than youth. It’s about love and passion and fulfillment and contentment and happiness and being alive. *The only way to live a life is to love it.*

And I have a feeling that the two of us will be just fine. Babies and all. <3

The Wedding of the Century.

Two weeks ago, I had the immense pleasure of attending my best friend’s wedding as her maid of honor. To say it was beautiful is a terrible understatement; the wedding was an unparalleled experience in so many ways, and every detail was picture perfect.

It was particularly cool for us ‘Whites,’ as we don’t have much – if any – experience attending Indian weddings. Everyone’s outfits were brightly colored and beautiful, and Rooms’ outfits in particular were exquisite – and weighed about thirty pounds. No joke; I carried those babies to the car! As maid of honor, I didn’t leave the bride’s side for a straight 48 hours, which gave me an up-close look at just how much work, love, and tradition went into this wedding. It was also really cool to see Rooms involved in all these traditions and immersed in the culture because in everyday life, she lives for flip flops, Uggs, and General Hospital, whose only tradition is killing people off every May.

The Mendhi
The festivities began Thursday night at a Ladies Only Mendhi party. For an Indian wedding, all the women are invited to get henna tattoos. For those who don’t know, henna is “a flowering plant used since antiquity to dye skin, hair, fingernails, leather and wool. The name is also used for dye preparations derived from the plant, and for the art of temporary tattooing based on those dyes” (Wikipedia). The henna is this brown paste that they put on your hands and the idea is to leave the paste on as long as possible so that the dye has more time to sink into your skin. When you take it off, you’re left with a beautiful bright reddish tattoo; it starts to fade after a few days, and only lasts about two weeks. This party also involves dancing, drinking, and performances by the women in the family as ‘gifts’ to the bride.

The food at the Mendhi – and throughout the weekend – was noteworthy. Mainly, because there was so much of it. Indian was the cuisine of choice at the Mendhi party and everyone filled up…then found out that those were just appetizers and dinner hadn’t been served yet. I enjoyed plenty of naan, paneer, and rice, knowing it would probably be my last meal for a few days. I’ve finally gotten to a point in my life where food is not the most important thing; spending time with my friends trumps it. At Allie’s wedding, I hardly had three bites of food because there were so many people I wanted to talk to. And with as much excitement as I had for this wedding, I knew my appetite would be nonexistent. (Which was a shame because, omg, wait til I tell you about the wedding food I didn’t eat.)

From the Reception, the next day. I also had some on the reverse side of my hand that I liked so much, I wanted to get it permanently tattooed. Apparently, people don't do that.

Friday
Friday was nothing like I expected. I had originally thought that it would be a chill day, relaxing, maybe seeing my parents, picking Adam up at the airport. Yeah, none of that happened. The bride and I had a 7 AM wake up call because she needed to get her Mendhi done at 8. Unlike our Mendhi, which took about twenty minutes each, Rooms’ took about five and a half hours. Hers is much more intricate, and covers a lot more of her body – front and back of both hands and forearms, plus her feet. And after its done, they cover it in athletic tape and she wears gloves and long sleeves to protect it, and also to keep it warm so the dye soaks in more. After the Mendhi, Rooms was basically out of commission for the rest of the day, though, fortunately, once the gloves were on, she could at least use the bathroom on her own.

After her Mendhi, we headed back to her parents’ house. The plan was to get packed and head to south Jers, where the wedding was, for the night. We figured we’d be on the road in about an hour. We figured wrong. We spent the next 3.5 hours packing 84389 outfits, going to Home Depot to get enormous rolls of padded flooring, and packing the flooring, the outfits, miscellaneous items for the wedding, and the wooden altar that Rooms would get married under into our three tiny cars. (Ironically, when Adam and I were in Jersey, we normally cruise around in my parents’ third car, a 2000 Honda Odyssey. My dad – feeling generous and also embarrassed about the state of the van – lent me his Prius. Which was awesome. Little did I know, the minivan would’ve been the more appropriate car to take.) We then hopped on the New Jersey Turnpike around 5PM on Friday on the weekend of both Passover and Easter. Surprisingly, we made decent time down to the hotel (and really – I spent enough time driving from south to central Jersey during college that there was no way we’d be sitting in traffic all that long anyway – I had getaway plans for every exit. I just love how imperfect our timing was), and the car ride gave Rooms and I time to have a traditional “Do you have any reservations?” /relationship/life talk. Rooms and I have surprisingly little in common for people who shared their rooms and their lives so successfully for four years, but we see life and people the same way, and we always know what the other means. We also have this great unconditional acceptance thing going on – it’s kind of necessary during that time period where you both wake up every other morning with an immense headache saying, “What the hell was I thinking last night?” – so we can seriously talk about anything, no judgments.

Rooms and I headed straight to the hotel with my co-MOH, Allie and Bridesmaid Casey in tow, and had a lovely, jam-packed evening. Rooms’ mom, along with her aunt and a few other female family members, spent the evening at the Merion, setting everything up for the ceremony in the morning; they didn’t return ’til 11:30, and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen either her mom or her aunt frazzled before. “Everything is fine, everything is fine. There was a little problem with — nothing. Nothing. Everything is fine. You’re aunt and I took care of it.” In the middle of Gunjan’s grilling of what had transpired at the Merion, her mom’s phone began ringing, and she tossed it to me and said, “Deal with it.” (I was the Official Keeper of Rooms’ phone all day Friday and Saturday, both to protect the henna and her psyche. I took rounds with her mom’s and aunt’s as well.) These women would be calm and in charge in the face of a nuclear attack; nothing fazes them, so it was mildly disarming to see them so wound up. The conversations I had with Mama Rooms and Rooms Masi that night crystallized for me that this really was a big deal. The effort they spent and exhaustion they endured that weekend was a testament to just how much they love my Rooms, and reminded me – once again – how lucky I was to be so close to the center of all this.

While they were slaving away, Rooms and I were greeting. Everyone wanted to see her, and ohmygosh, the amount of love flowing through that hotel that night could have fueled Woodstock several times over. At times during the engagement period, I honestly couldn’t tell if I was going through the motions of being excited and being a good MoH – I’m not particularly into all the wedding hooplah and I was fairly overworked in the months leading up to the wedding – or if I was genuinely excited. That night, I knew I was probably the most excited I had ever been in my entire life. The other bridesmaids arrived, we drank champagne, we laughed a lot, we tried on our outfits, we exchanged gifts, we girl talked, and I said, “OMG, It’s happening,” and “I’m SO EXCITED!!!” every seven minutes. Rooms finally started to get excited during this time period, and it was so much fun to watch her being so happy. I had worried that she, too, was going through the motions of being engaged and planning the wedding without feeling particularly passionate or happy about it – but there was nothing to worry about. The excitement was undeniable, and she got swept away.

One of my top five favorite moments of the weekend happened on Friday. I can’t remember if I was washing Gunjan’s hair or putting on her makeup – tasks I don’t do often myself and am not particularly skilled at. We were both laughing at my ineptitude and the fact that she had to talk me through it, and I said, “I can’t believe you picked me to do this!” Because, yeah, she has sorority sisters, cousins, friends, and four bridesmaids who all wash their hair more than twice a week and understand the value of liquid versus pencil eyeliner.

“I couldn’t trust anyone else.”

I knew she wasn’t only referring to trusting someone with the application of her undereye concealer. Or even simply to my stellar organizational and planning skills, one of the few things we have in common. She wanted me there because I’m her best friend. I’m her person. I can’t really put into words how I felt right then. Some combination of fierce loyalty and immense love that I imagine is normally reserved for biological sisters. We’re really lucky.

Around midnight, I started barring people from the room so we could get ready for bed. I also took that time to set up everything we could need for the next day for easy transport to the Merion, where we would be getting ready. I think we were in bed around one-ish, and forced ourselves to stop talking – which we could have easily done all night – and go to sleep at 1:30. I don’t think either of us got much sleep.

Wedding Day

My alarm went off at 6, but I had been wide awake since 5:15, practicing my speech and going over the events of the day in my head. I got myself bathed and shaved and dressed before waking Rooms. Have I ever mentioned that I love watching people who have serious trouble waking up wake up? Adam and Gunjan do the same thing, adopting these Toy Story T-Rex style arm movements while searching for the blanket to pull back over them, making soft, pained noises and never opening their eyes. After a few minutes, she pried her eyes open and hopped in the shower. Seconds later, her mom knocked on the door, and hurriedly handed me a glass of “holy water” (from where? I have no idea) to use to rinse off with in the shower. The start of the traditions.

She then dressed in her Juicy Couture sweats, and we headed to her aunt’s room for Ceremony #1 at 7 AM. There, she received her bangles, and it was the only time I saw her cry all day. The bride and groom endured two significant losses during their engagement period, and their loved ones absences were strongly felt that weekend. We then headed back to our room to dry her eyes and meet her cousin, the hair and makeup stylist. While she swirled Rooms’ hair into a beautiful bun that nobody would see because of her beautiful veil, I hid her phone – and the fact that the florist was MIA – from her. The other bridesmaids arrived, and then left, to head to the Merion’s bridal suite. Rooms, Allie, and I headed over together when everything else was finished.

(I want to take a second to give a HUGE shout-out to my co-MoH, Allie. She’s amazingly calm and graceful, and I was so grateful to have her sharing the responsibilities with me throughout the whole engagement and wedding process.)

The bridal suites were amazing – enormous bathrooms, mirrors everywhere, two couches, and several trays of food, coffee, water, and juice. We dressed, did our make-up, and got the bride ready. Rooms’ outfits each weighed about fifteen pounds, and she looked like royalty. She had given me strict instructions to eject anyone who was crying from the bridal suite, and I nearly had to send myself out several times. Every time I looked at her – which was a lot; she was absolutely stunning and it was hard to look away – tears pricked my eyes. The joy and excitement I felt – for Rooms, for this day, for all of us watching someone we loved so much do something so special – was tremendous, and I enjoyed every second.

We took a few pictures, and then the bridesmaids headed downstairs at 9:30 for the Baraat.

The Baraat is part of a traditional Indian ceremony, when the groom arrives at the wedding venue, normally on a horse (though, an elephant was considered at one point during the planning). In this case, Jyotin and his family (his “clan”) were on the other side of the building, and he came around the corner on a horse, with his clan dancing and singing. I finally got to see Adam, Geo, and Graber (and the boys’ dates) for this part, and we had a blast together for this short ceremony. Then, everyone headed inside for a light breakfast – croissants, muffins, fruit – before the main ceremony at 11.

The main ceremony took place in a gorgeous room upstairs, complete with an atrium and natural sunlight shining down from above. Rooms had designed the decor, and her mom and aunt had brought it to life. The floor was covered in floor pads and white linen, as all the guests sit on the floor for the ceremony; small purple and green pillows were also placed strategically around the room. Rose petals lined the path to the large wooden altar.

During the ceremony, men sat to the left, women to the right. Everyone covered their heads. The bridesmaids came in one at a time, with their groomsmen counterpart. Afterwards, guests told me they could not get over how much I was smiling when I walked down the aisle. In front of the altar, we dropped to our knees and bowed our heads to the floor, in unison with our partner, before taking our places on the gender-appropriate sides of the room. Graber compared the wedding to that of the Orthodox Jews…another traditional ceremony I’ll eventually get to attend when Brother gets married.

The ceremony was in Hindi, so we didn’t really understand any of it; one of my favorite moments is when Rooms turned around and said, “I’m married now?” But while we didn’t understand the actual words, we understood what was happening. We understood that Jyotin was holding a picture of his father throughout the ceremony. We understood when his mom kissed Gunjan’s forehead and whispered for them to take care of each other. We understood that our best friend was getting married. We understood that something was changing, even if no one – including the bride – could quite put their finger on exactly what that ‘something’ was.

After the ceremony, we had an Indian feast for lunch. I was too overwhelmed with emotion to eat, though I did manage to munch some naan and eat a few bites of Adam’s food, and it was delicious. Probably my biggest “regret” of the wedding – of all weddings that I go to – was that I didn’t enjoy the food enough; this was particularly true at this one because I love Indian food. I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve become one of those people who isn’t that interested in eating when I’m really excited, or really happy. Instead, I took the opportunity to talk to my very best friends, whom I don’t get to see nearly enough. After lunch, the bridal party took pictures, and everyone headed back to the hotel for some R&R before cocktail hour; well, almost everyone – three of the bridesmaids and I went to get our hair done and contemplate what exactly had changed that morning. Back at the hotel, Adam and I made a run to Wawa for coffee, water, and two Five-Hour energy drinks for the groom, then pretty much started getting ready for cocktail hour.

I'm the lady to the Bride's left. I jumped!

And, actually… I think I’m going to take a break here. This is already ridiculously long, and there’s so much more to talk about: The Food, The Speech, and The Feelings (The Answer to the Question, ‘What Changed?’).

For now, I’ll sum up by telling you that it’s been two weeks and one day since the wedding, and my heart still tugs when I think about it. While I don’t exactly want one of my own, I’m a sucker for weddings. Especially weddings for my best friend. This has served as (yet another) poignant reminder that we really need to suck all of the enjoyment we can out of life – really enjoy every single second – because we don’t get to do it again. That weekend, that day – that was it.

And it was perfect.

Love It Up.

This past weekend, I fell in love with my best friend again. Not Adam (though I do fall in love with him on a regular basis); I’m talking about Rooms.

Early last week, her grandfather had a doctor’s appointment; he was pronounced healthy and given clearance to travel to America from India for his granddaughter’s wedding in April. Late Wednesday night, he spoke excitedly about plans for the trip. Thursday morning, he collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. Thursday night, her aunt – her second mother – left for India. Her mother – my second mother – stayed through the shower – and appeared genuinely happy throughout, despite the inner turmoil those closest to her knew she was suffering – and left for India Saturday night. When I landed back in Austin on Sunday, Rooms passed on the information that her grandfather was not going to make it; they were waiting for her mother’s arrival to stop life support. Monday morning, Rooms’ grandfather passed away.

You may remember that this is not the first death Rooms has experienced, not just in the past year, but during her engagement. I said then, “I swear I can feel her happiness from two thousand miles away, and I can also feel her heartache,” and this remains true. Rooms once said – I can only assume a bad dream prompted this conversation – that if something were to happen to my parents, that would be just as bad as something happening to hers. My heart physically hurts for my best friend and, while illogical, I can’t help feeling that it’s just not fair that she is suffering right now. Again.

When we initially got the news, I thought back to when I returned from the East coast in early January, and had told her that it was harder to leave this time. More than ever before, I understand that my grandparents, and even my parents, and even my friends if I really want to follow that thought, are not going to be around forever, and I am so far away, and I’m missing it; I’m missing their lives. Sometimes, I told my dad on my birthday, living far(ish) away allows me to forget that time is passing back east too; I’m constantly picturing everything as I last saw it, removed from the everyday changes, the time passing. There’s a jolt when I return and everything has aged just a little bit more. Rooms related, as she, too, had just seen her grandparents in India, and had the same pangs when leaving.

Sometimes, “it’s not easy getting older.” And it’s not because relationships end, or because people die, or because bad things happen; bad things have always happened. My grandmother passed away suddenly when I was seven years old, and I was more concerned with missing my last day of second grade, when I was the teacher’s pet, than I was about her death; I wasn’t callous, I just didn’t understand what I had lost. My grandmother was a conventionally beautiful woman who was very short and spent time loving on my brother and me; at that age, she was wonderful to have around, but there was not much depth to our relationship. I cried at her funeral because I was a little sad and also because I knew it was what I was supposed to do. Now, though, now I understand what I lost – a relationship with my grandmother, like the one I have with my Pop, whom I adore and treasure very, very much. Now, I cry, when my Pop talks about my grandmother, when I remember how sad he was scattering her ashes and changing his vanity license plate, when he writes me notes telling me how special I was to her.

It’s not easy getting older because, the older you get, the more you appreciate what you have, while at the same time, realizing that it can, and likely will, be lost at some point; we gain a greater respect and have more love for our lives just as we begin to grasp what ‘mortality’ really means. We’ve now formed deeper, more meaningful bonds with people. We’ve invested, in our careers, in ourselves, in our relationships. We’ve gained a greater understanding of how fucking cool it is that we get to live, and we now know that we have to appreciate that fact every single day because this really is all we get: We will never get to go through high school with the confidence and sense of self we have now; we will never get to live in a house with all of our best friends and relive the experience that being young and drunk and in college  is; we will never get to go back to the time before our first fight with our significant other, the mystical “honeymoon” phase; we will never have another childhood or a different childhood. You cannot go back; you don’t get a do-over; you cannot change what happened. I’m losing my innocence (again), that blissful lack of awareness that time is always passing and the somewhat willful ignorance of the fact that people die, people will die, and bad things will happen to people that I love so much. It’s a little bit terrifying and a little bit painful.

But then I remember the other thing that happened over the weekend: I saw Rooms, and we threw her a beautiful bridal shower. I remember when her fiance told her she looked pretty and the time he took to write out answers for the “How Well Do You Know the Groom? game. I remember how happy and motherly she looked, smiling down at her niece and nephew, both lying in her lap, hugging each other. I remember talking to her fiance and thinking about how much he’s matured and how safe he will keep my best friend. I remember her laughing, playing the “The Wedding is Over” game, and how stinkin’ beautiful she looked (as always) in her white dress, smiling for pictures. I remember her mom, hooting and hollering during the games, dancing around our table, and cheering for Obama with our liberal friends. I remember staying up late with Rooms, analyzing our lives, talking about our futures, laughing together, as we’ve done innumerable times in the past.

Life is, at times, undeniably painful. Just the thought of loss, and the losses I will likely endure during my lifetime, makes my throat constrict and my heart ache. But there is also a lot of hope. There is romance, and children, and a mother’s love, and commitment, and strength, and adoration, and growth, and change, and comfort, and friendship, and beauty, and it is all around us, all the time. We need to appreciate these moments, to realize how fucking lucky we are to have them, to remember that those good times exist when things are bad and to let them motivate us to keep going when everything hurts.

I look at my best friend, and I see all of the greatest things that life has to offer: compassion, strength, grace, beauty, devotion, love, change, and hope. I fall in love with her, both for embodying all of these wonderful concepts, and for being a living example of how much good is yet to come – I can see her wedding, her kids, her friendships, and both of our lives stretching out before us.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve begun to love my best friend purely, without jealousy or competition, without schadenfreude, without reservation or condition. Our friendship has made me a better person, a more whole, more giving, less selfish person, which makes me love and appreciate her even more. And the more I love her, the more it hurts to see her suffer; I never knew I was capable of sympathy pain to this degree, and I can’t say that I totally care for it. But then, I remember that, as much as she is suffering – as we are suffering – she suffers because she is human, that she feels loss because she loves so deeply, and that that is, irrefutably, a good thing.

People say that death reminds us to live each moment to its fullest, to cherish the time we have with the ones we love. And while that is true, I also want to remember to love fully without the thought always being coupled with pain. I can’t say it enough: This is it, this is your life, and every minute that you spend doing something other than enjoying the ride is a waste. Don’t take anything – your relationships, your successes, your charmed life – for granted; you’ve got to cherish them, hold them close to your heart, and enjoy every moment of the good stuff. Because it’s all you get. One life, one time, one chance to live it up.

Strap in.

Pay It Forward.

“There is nobody in this country who got rich on his own. Nobody. You built a factory out there, good for you. But, I want to be clear: you moved your goods to market on the roads the rest of us paid for. You hired workers the rest of us paid to educate. You were safe in your factory because of police forces and fire forces that the rest of us paid for. You didn’t have to worry that marauding bands would come and seize everything at your factory and hire someone to protect against this because of the work the rest of us did. Now look, you built a factory and it turned into something terrific or a great idea. God bless. Keep a big hunk of it. But part of the underlying social contract is you take a hunk of that and pay forward for the next kid who comes along.”

~ Elizabeth Warren

[Source]

OMG OMG OMG!!!

I’m pregnant.

Nah, just kidding. This is WAY better.

TOM PETTY IS COMING TO AUSTIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s really happening. I feel like I’m cheating on Adam, I’m so excited. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Down South”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14_dToUTGGU

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgivness
Pay off every witness

One more time down south
Sell the family headstones
Drag a bag of dry bones
Make good on my back loans

So if I come to your door
Let me sleep on your floor
I’ll give you all I have
And a little more

Sleep late down south
Look up my former mentors
Live off yankee winters
Be a landlord and a renter

Create myself down south
Impress all the women
Pretend I’m samuel clemens
Wear seersucker and white linens

So if I come to your door
Let me sleep on your floor
I’ll give you all I have
And a little more

Spanish moss down south
Spirits cross the dead fields
Mosquitoes hit the windshield
All document remain sealed

So if I come to your door
Let me sleep on your floor
I’ll give you all I have
And a little more

I’ll give you all I have
And a little more

[Source]

Happy Weekend!

I Have to Share.

THIS.

East Coast Style Vacation.

Before too much time passes, I need to write a recap of our east coast vacation. Or, The Adventures of Adam and Emma: East Coast Style 2011/2012. I need to write this not because I think it’s particularly interesting for my readers, or because I particularly like lifecasting (versus mindcasting), but because, one day, Adam and I will be old, and our memories will be fading, and we won’t be able to remember all of the details of our vacation. And that would be sad, because this was an *awesome* vacation. (Adam is very big on writing down our best vacations when we get back for this exact reason.) Fortunately, with the magic of the Internet, our memories will be preserved. In fact, from what I hear, even if we wanted to, we couldn’t lose it; once something is on the Interwebs, you can’t get it back. Ever. (Dum dum DUM.)

(Strap in: This is a long post. You’ve been warned.)

So, let’s see… We started the vacation with a 4 AM alarm, which we promptly ignored when I received a text from Orbitz telling me our flight was delayed an hour and a half. We slept for another hour, took an hour and a half to get ready (we had packed the night before, so I have no clue what we were doing during this time period), and made it from our apartment to our gate in exactly one hour…at which point, we walked directly onto the plane and took our seats as we just barely made our flight. We actually start all of our vacations this way; apparently, we need an enormous jolt of stress to feel like we’ve really “earned” our trip.

We flew into EWR, and took the train to SoJo (I don’t know why that stands for South Jersey), where Adam’s dad picked us up. On the train, we marveled over how much stuff there is in the Northeast – industrial plants, dilapidated buildings, townhouses, a megalopolis. I’ve never been one to have that intense I <3 NJ pride, and Austin is fabulous, but there’s just no place like the Northeast. I don’t know how to explain it. The air is filled with this electrical energy, and the people are filled with so much character. If we ever decided to have kids, we both know we’d have to move back; I can’t imagine raising children anywhere else. (Let alone in Austin, where my coworkers still say things like, “He’s cute. For a black guy.” I enjoy responding, “How do you know Adam isn’t black? He’s not. But he is Jewish, just FYI. <Big smile>”)

So, we got to SoJo, relaxed for a bit at Adam’s parents’ place, then went to my parents’ to say hi, and then all four of us went back to Adam’s parents’ for dinner. His dad made latkes, and while it wasn’t actually Hannukah anymore (nor did Adam and I even remember it was Hannukah until someone wished me a happy one), nobody quibbles about exact days when there are latkes and coconut cake involved. Our parents don’t know each other well, but our dads share a love of wine and our moms share a love of me and Adam being together, so everyone gets along well. Dinner was fab, and we headed back to my parents’ afterwards and crashed. (We normally stay at my parents for two reasons, or, at least, two reasons that I can disclose on the Interwebs: 1) Adam’s younger sister used to be much younger, and his mom was (understandably) not totally in love with us sharing a bed next door to her room; she’s older now, but it’s just habit, and 2) My parents waited until my brother and I went off to college before replacing our 20ish year old mattresses with Sealy Posturpedics, and they are awesome. And I’m not bitter at all.

Thursday morning, I got up at the very, very early hour of 4:30 AM to join my Mama at the gym. She’s been a gym rat for the past ten years or so, and is there when they open at 5, along with the rest of her rat pack. To be honest, I couldn’t care less about going to the gym – I’m on vacation and we all know I prefer long walks (during daylight hours) to the gym – BUT what I prefer even more than a reasonable amount of sleep and leisurely walks is hanging out with my Mama. The gym is our mother-daughter alone time, and I cherish it very much. After the gym, her and my Pops headed for work, and I went back to sleep (another reason I don’t really mind getting up that early) with Adam until we had to get up for lunch with my Pop (my maternal grandfather, not to be confused with my Pops, who is my father) and his wife, Rosalie. We met them at Filomena’s, and had an absolutely wonderful time. Normally, we dine with them with the company of my parents, and Adam was just the tiniest bit nervous that it’d be awkward without them there as a buffer. There was no reason to be concerned: When Pop and Rosalie both ordered “hot, very hot, only bring it if it’s hot” coffee, Adam felt right at home, chiming in with, “Well, if it’s going to be hot, then I’ll have a cup.” (Adam routinely asks for very hot coffee at restaurants, and I always tell him it reminds me of my Pop; he always tells me that nobody likes warm coffee.) Lunch flew by – Pop and Rosalie are well-read and pretty up on the times, so conversation with them is always interesting – and I was *shocked* to discover that we had been there for nearly two hours when we left. My Pop never sits through a meal for more than an hour, at least not as long as I’ve known him; he eats, he talks, he gets the check, he leaves. I took this as an indication that they had as much fun as we did; my suspicion was confirmed when my mom later reported back that both of them raved about how much fun they had with us (and, ironically, told her that their only complaint was that the coffee wasn’t hot enough. According to them, this is a repeat offense at Filomena’s).

After lunch, Adam and I headed straight over to his parents’ house. We were expecting A&J to join us there for the day/dinner, but, sadly, they weren’t able to: J was getting a sinus infection and Adam’s brother was having surgery the following Tuesday and couldn’t be exposed. Instead, we spent the rest of the day and evening with his parents and siblings, which was quite lovely. We ordered pizza and, again, I’m going to wax poetic about SoJo: Pizza there is better than pizza in either Colorado (ha! The only pizza we could get there was from Pizza Hut) or Austin. Except for Homeslice. But they’re from NY, so yeah. I rest my case.

Friday morning, we roused ourselves semi-early (I skipped the gym), and headed to Adam’s parents’ for a brunch of bagels, lox, and whitefish salad, done right. In the FC, the only good bagel place in town insisted on making bagels and lox into sandwiches, with the lox and cream cheese in the middle and the bagel as the “bread.” That is not how one eats bagels and lox! They have to be open-faced – open-faced! Gah. (The same bagel place also gave discounts if patrons brought their church bulletins; apparently, they aren’t aware of the roots of the bagel.) Delicious; I just love me some bagels, lox, and whitefish salad. Afterwards, we stopped by Adam’s friend, Amy’s, to visit. Amy has a two year-old and just recently (like, a few weeks ago) birthed twins – twins! So we went over there to say hi and hold babies; it was so good to see her, and, wow – she’s such a grown-up: A husband, a house, and three kids. I know that everyone our age (and she’s got a few years on us, actually) is doing this now, but it still doesn’t cease to amaze me.

After Amy’s, we headed into the city for our NYE adventure. I won’t repeat all of our exploits here, just a quick recap: About a week and a half before our trip, Adam discovered that Phish would be playing at Madison Square Garden the weekend of NYE; he asked if I’d be interested in going, as my birthday “event.” (We’ve gotten big on events, rather than gifts.) DO I WANT TO SEE PHISH AT MSG AS MY BIRTHDAY GIFT!!?!?!?!?!? So we got tickets. And it was about twenty-seven times cooler than you think it was. AMAZING. And really, the whole weekend may have been one of the Top Five Best Weekends Ever in the Adventures of Adam and Emma. Fo’ riz.

Oh, and okay, so I left this out of the last post re: NYE because it wasn’t relevant, but now it is. And I love this story and need to share it. SO… Saturday night, my parents’ friends had just left – around 12:30/1ish – and I remembered that I had gotten a cryptic text from Adam’s younger sister (we’re going to call her “Rachel”) earlier that evening; I’d texted her back about twenty minutes after receiving it, but never got an answer. So I started texting her again.

[Okay, I have to back up. This is a long story. See, Adam and I had always wondered about Rachel and her boyfriend ("Pete"); they are really good kids, which naturally led us to believe that they were maybe a bit square. (Which is ridiculous because we were them at one point. Duh.) Then, at lunch earlier that day, the waiter had poured Rachel and Pete a very small amount of wine ("It was a French restaurant"), and I had held up my menu to talk to them "privately" and joked, "You guys can drink the wine; we won't tell anybody [you're underage].” I then lowered my voice and asked Rachel, “Do you? Do you guys drink?” As it turns out, they do. So when we dropped them at home later that night, we told them not to drink and drive and to call us if they needed a ride. We still thought they maybe had a beer at parties; not totally square, but not ever going to need to call us. (Dum dum DUM.)]

To make this too long story short, Adam and I had the distinct pleasure (<– that is actually not sarcastic; we were beaming) of picking Rachel and Pete up from their party because Pete was wasted. After throwing Pete on the front lawn to vomit, this seventeen year old boy asked if we wanted Rachel as well and turned to get her without inviting us into the house. “Yes, I want Rachel, and I also want to see your party,” I said as I followed him into the home, uninvited. Dude, I drove over here at 2:30 AM in my mother’s 2000 Honda Odyssey; I’m not leaving before I see how the kids are doing it these days. As we walked into the basement, Rachel quickly reassured the other guests, “They’re cool, they’re cool.” I’m sorry; were you planning on stopping us? Adam, who walked in first, wearing a double-breasted black wool trench-style coat, said they looked at us like we might be g-men. I can’t imagine why. We brought Rachel and Pete back to Adam’s parents house, and deposited Pete on the couch. Adam’s mom was concerned, and we reassured her by asking Pete who the vice president is; in an irritated, sleepy voice, he got out, “Dick fucking Cheney.” “Close enough.”

Alright, so then, Sunday morning, we slept hard. Hard. When we finally rolled out of bed around 11AM, we headed to Wawa, the best convenience store in the whole wide world, for coffee and a sandwich for Adam. We spent the day lazing – first at my parents, then his parents, then back to my parents for hoppin’ john. Adam helped my mom set up the 10 months worth of IT projects she had saved for his visit while I went on a long walk with my Pops; we normally go  on at least one long walk I’m home. We had planned to go back to his parents again, but got tired and stayed in to hang with my ‘rents.

Monday, my mom and I went to the gym around 7ish (she was off from work), and I woke Adam up when we got home, and we headed to his parents’ place to pick up Rachel and Pete and head into Philly. They all wanted cheesesteaks from Pat’s, but it was too cold to eat outside – we forgot what cold felt like – and headed indoors nearby; this made me happy because I could get a stromboli and I love stromboli and don’t love cheesesteak. (I think; I’ve never actually tried one.) With full bellies, we headed to the Mutter Museum, otherwise known as The Dead Baby Museum. I lasted a good hour and a half before the ginormous brown colon got to me and we headed out. We dropped Rachel and Pete off, and headed to Allie’s for dinner. We had a super-sweet and delicious dinner party, reminiscing and talking about Allie and her fiance’s upcoming nuptials. When we left there, I felt…nostalgic? Not quite, because I didn’t yearn for the past; it was more like contentment, with both my past and my present. I truly adore the women I grew up with, and they have a very, very special place in my heart; I love seeing them, and when I do, I remember all of the things that I loved about growing up there. At the same time, I also remember who I was then, and how much happier – and freer – I am now, and I know leaving the tri-state area was the right thing for me to do.

After dinner, we headed to Adam’s parents’ to hang with his brother before his hip replacement surgery the following morning. The next morning, we putzed around the house in the morning, then met Geo and Graber for lunch. Graber was on his way from NYC to DC, and Geo had hopped a ride with him to meet us for lunch at the Phily Diner. (Nobody knows why it only has one “l.”) The four of us caught up and chatted, and I left there so happy that all of my best friends are doing so well with life. Geo came back to the house to hang for a bit, then we picked Rachel up after school, dropped him at his friends, and headed to the hospital to visit Adam’s brother. He was sort of drugged up, but surprisingly mobile – they get you right back on your feet after hip replacements! We hung out for a bit, then took Rachel with us to IndeBlue for dinner with my parents; our last supper. Delicious Indian food, perfect volume level of jazz music, and more quality time with my parents. We dropped Rachel off, had story time with my parents, and headed to bed.

I overslept(!) Wednesday morning, and missed the gym, but I realized my mistake at 5:20, so I was up when they got home (my dad is a recent convert to the morning rat pack), and said my goodbyes to my Pops when he left for work. My mom and I hung out until I woke Adam up and we headed to his parents for brunch and more goodbyes. I hate goodbyes, and spent most of the day fighting tears; I love my real life and wouldn’t give it up…but sometimes I wish my real life was just a wee bit closer to the parts of the country that really get us. We did laundry (love coming home with clean clothes and underwear), hung out with my Mom, stopped at Adam’s parents’ for the final goodbyes, and headed to the train station. A car ride, a train ride, a tram ride, a plane ride, a shuttle ride, a car ride, a dog pick-up, and another car ride and we were home! We then decided to make the next work day really unpleasant and stayed up watching King of the Hill while we settled ourselves down around 2 AM.

Holy hell.

We thought this was going to be a lazy trip, but ended up jamming it full of all of the things we love most about the great Northeast. We didn’t catch up on sleep, or read, or watch movies the way we thought we would, but neither of us would change a thing. We just feel like the luckiest two kids ever.