Love Tours (part 2.66 of 3)

(Yes, this has been two-plus months in the making...)

Soooo, after Memphis, it was time to head to Lake Charles, a place that should be left to mosquitoes and alligators and parasites and a place that I would never visit if some of the best people in the world named Amy and Liz didn't live there. I'd visit them in hell (both of them are very good Catholics, so it's more likely to end up the other way around).

The last time I was in LC was for Amy's wedding, but this time I was there for Liz's wedding AND to see Amy's baby, a chunky butt who is so cute she's lucky I'm not a kidnapper.
Liz's wedding was jam-packed with get togethers starring giant amounts of food and more family members than can really fit in a normal sized house. But somehow, they all squeeze in and fill the room with loud laughs and answers to any question you might ever have.

The first get-together was a Hey, People Are in Town So Let's Barbecue. To Cajuns, barbecue means eat outside, so instead of firing up the grill, Liz had Chris pick up a pizza that was so big it would only fit in an SUV. (I had a picture of Liz and a baby with the empty pizza box that really showed off this pizza's enormity but the computer goblins snatched it.)
After cleaning out that box (and another one half that size), we all sat outside and watched sweaty kids run around the backyard. At one point Amy and I got them organized into a game of red light green light and then there was a pretend eye injury that lasted a couple days. It's like they always say, it's all fun and games until somebody gets a pretend eye injury.

Liz's dream wedding involved a photo booth area, so we did a little web searching and found a way to finagle her computer into a photo booth that automatically prints photos. The night ended with a practice round, and once that final piece of the puzzle was slid into place, Liz officially relieved herself of wedding duties.
The next night was the rehearsal dinner night, so we headed over to Chris' parents' house to cram dozens of people into one house, a house unified by rice and ettouffe. I'm telling you, these Cajuns have a knack for making plenty of room, no matter how many people you have.
After a brief fire performance, the distribution of presents and letting Sam put a spell on me with his sparkling green eyes, we all went to Annie's, my other best friend in Lake Charles, to toast the soon-to-be Domingues.
I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but I think Liz's peacock-inspired wedding may have been partly inspired by Annie's. It's total kitch, total biker bar, totally worthy of being one of the bars Patrick Swayze "cooled" in Road House... really nothing like what Liz's wedding was except in its shared awesomeness and peacock-y bathroom.
Wedding day was a blur of last minuting and beautifying. We popped over to the reception hall to set up the photo booth, grabbed some Middle Eastern food (LC is coming up in the food department... that stuff was delish!), and watched as Liz transformed from cozy Saturday girl to stunning bride-to-be.
Brides are always pretty. White dresses and styled hair and professional makeup has a tendency to do that to a girl. But Liz, she was the most beautiful I'd ever seen her before. She took my breath away (and her mom's and her baby's) with how gorgeous she was.

I'm so happy for Liz. I've known lots of her boyfriends over the 20 years we've known each other, and finally, FINALLY she picked a good one. I think she and Chris are definitely going to be a happily ever after.

Congrats my dear Elijah. I love you so much and am so grateful I got to share this day with you.

3 plus 2

I actually don't mind getting older... probably because my birthdays are always so awesome they're worth living for.

This year things got started on May 9, which was a celebration of Renee's birthday, my birthday and Mother's Day rolled into one. Renee was just about the cutest 3-year-old I've ever seen opening her presents, so even though celebrating with her meant sharing the spotlight, she provided entertainment that was worth it. And it's always fun to share your birthday with Mother's Day, since in a twisty way it's also your mom's birthday... her giving birth day.

Sharing my birthday meant we got to have two cakes... a chocolate one for Renee (that said Happy Birt because Bad Mommy Shannon ran out of icing) and a vegan carrot cake for me. I hate to say it, but I think I may like sharing my birthday.

My birthday week was pretty good. I did a little bit of work, played volleyball, cleaned the house, and then on Friday, I met up with Ruble and Steve for giant-sized birthday Red Stripes.

Saturday was a little lame, since I spent the day in a nursing home giving bed baths and feeding old people, but it was also waaaaayyyy better than the Saturdays I've been having, where I sit in a room with people whose development is questionable and whose accents border on unintelligible. Sunday, my actual birthday, was a little more of the same as Saturday, but it was also THE LAST DAY of nurse aid torture.

I wanted to go to the drive-in for my birthday, but it started raining so we had to do a change of plans. I was stumped. All my favorite restaurants are closed on Sundays, but Mack called and found out that the new Dudley's on Short Street was open. Thank god.

We met Leigh and Nash and ate some of the best pan-fried snapper in the world. It was served over some magical greens and craveable beans and I basically licked that plate clean.

Just as we were sucking down the last of our mojitos, the waitress brought down a carrot cake that Leigh had brought... complete with a small forest fire on top. I saw her coming because the flames caught the corner of my eye and I thought there was some sort of disaster headed our direction. The heat coming off that thing actually made me sweat in the short time it took for my dinner mates to serenade me with Happy Birthday.

But in that small moment, with 32 candles blazing in front of my face and a smile wiped across it that overwrote any essence of cool I was trying to project, I accidentally achieved birthday euphoria.

It seriously felt like those people on Intervention who talk about feeling a rush when they put the needle in their arm.

All the voicemail singing, all the Facebook love (some of it from people I didn't think really even knew me), all the special dates, all the cheers and good food and laughs. If you've gotta be addicted to something, birthdays are it.

Four Solid Years

I just realized that today, like this actual day, marks the start of my fifth year of blogging.

Four years done, completely... 411 random ramblings about what I'm doing... hundreds of hours spent in this strange little life archive thing I've got going on.

That's a shocking degree of commitment to something created from a misunderstanding. I hope it's been as fun for you, all five of you, as it's been for me.

Cookie Monsters

Laila told me the other day that she'd never made Christmas cookies, and since that was one of my favorite parts of winter break when I was a kid, well, I just could not let her go another year without the experience of cutting cookies, sprinkling sprinkles, and eating raw cookie dough on the sly.

Plus, she needs to learn patience and how to see things through to the end, and nothing takes as much patience and sticktoitiveness as making three sheets worth of cookies and decorating all. of. them.

Transformation

I realized while we were on the plane to New York City for our No Nonsense Between Friends trip that Heather and I started our friendship on a plane. She had a bag of O'Boises potato chips on a flight back to Louisville after our 5th grade day trip to Washington, D.C., and she offered them to me not knowing that I had/have a chip addiction. As I looked at her this time, 20+ years later, I felt a whole new gratitude for her... and it had little to do with the mommy snacks I knew she had in her bag.
Our trip to NYC was incredible. From the moment we walked into our hotel room and discovered a gift basket that put the Easter Bunny to serious shame, the trip just got better and better.

We met with a stylist, were allowed to pick something from his suggestions rack, and then went to eat some of the best pasta I've ever eaten. Then we slept above Times Square in a swanky hotel room and woke up to a view of the Hudson River and a day filled with shopping, with trying on beautiful things without the slightest regard for the attached price tags. We dropped hundreds of dollars without a thought and came to adore the women who fit you for bras at Macy's. Then it was off to another extraordinary dinner, this time sushi that literally melted in your mouth, followed by Mamma Mia on Broadway. Sunday was just more of the same upward trajectory. We donned our new threads, headed to a salon and were treated to a facial and a hair experience unlike any either of us has ever had.
Did you know that lurking under this mass of confused waves and supernatural frizz there is supermodel hair? It was too beautiful to be mine, but there it was attached to my head.
We had our makeup done to complete our new looks, and I can't really describe how this whole makeover experience affected me. I haven't felt this good about myself ever. And I haven't seen Heather treating herself so well our entire lives.

I think that's what's most precious about this whole experience. Seeing someone I love dearly reconnect with who she is, beyond who she is to other people, was the best gift of all. I'm so grateful I was able to play some small part in getting her to that place and that I got to see it happen.

Our trip just kept getting better and better and better, and when it finally hit me how wonderfully lucky I am to have won this, how incomprehensibly blessed I am to have such an astounding friendship with someone who is so extraordinary, how delicious my life is, well, when all those realizations finally settled on me during the stillness of a carriage ride through Central Park, I cried. And I have never in my life been more grateful to have Heather at my side than I was in that moment.

Pumpkining

Renee and Ben came to Auntie Am's scary house to carve pumpkins last week.

Like all good babies, they abandoned the carving process and left that to their aunt, but when it was time to blow out the candles, we couldn't lure them away, even with M&M bribes. We must've relit the candles a dozen times, and they'd count and blow them out again and again. Renee would count to 3 most of the time but sometimes she'd go to 8, huffing and puffing all the way.

Pretty much, it was adorable. And just one more thing to make me love Halloween.

Nitsirk spelled backwards is Kristin

Kristin is one of my favorite people in the entire world. Not only does she know how to make world-class gravy, but she is also never without snacks and is always, always, always up for some fun. Plus, she is adorable in a blinged-out, over-sized Escalade with her seat totally erect.

Well, Miss Nitsirk stopped in from Vegas last weekend for Granny's birthday and Ryan's birthday, and to celebrate her special appearance, the birthdays and Will's acceptance to UNLV (shout out Will!), I followed her to Marikka's, where I ran into some old(er than Ryan) pals. You may have heard of them before... Brett, Jon & Amy.

At one point cameras came out like crazy so I joined in to capture the debauchery brought to you by Washington Apples. The next day was a struggle, but that night was a total blast.
* Sorry to anyone I may have pinched or whose nipples I may have tweaked.

Dr. Sexypants

Today, Mack had his white coat ceremony, which officially means he's no longer just accepted to med school but that he's officially in med school. He also got a pin and took an oath, both of which made me laugh because he is so not a lapel pin wearer and oaths make his head explode.
This journey to med school started years ago, with him taking a history class online at WKU with a teacher named Ms. Plummer who was a teacher freak. The class was the required history class, 108 or 109, and it should have been a cake walk... but not with Ms. Plummer. Mack watched so many hours of online lectures that I started to worry he was having an internet affair with someone majorly dorky.

That class led to an online science class where he had to watch animated roly polies walk from one petri dish to another. And then count them. Very complicated stuff.

When we moved to LA, Mack jumped right into school again, this time going full time. Unfortunately, he didn't have a high school diploma, so during his first week, he had to take his GED to keep his spot. Yes, his GED. It was a proud moment for both of us.
Each quarter he would get special permission to take more than 24 credit hours, none of which were easy hours to earn. His schedule was full of chemistry, physics, biology... classes I avoided in college. Then, after his first year, he started studying for his MCAT, an effort that required him to teach himself organic chemistry. Through it all, he kept his focus and maintained a life/school/judo balance that was admirable... aside from the fact that he never did the dishes or made dinner.

Once the MCAT hurdle was cleared, the next step was the applications process. This cost thousands of dollars and almost cost Mack his ego. Singing your praises while simultaneously expressing humility takes a certain finesse, and Mack, who has a lot of brass on him (heard that on Burn Notice recently and really wanted to use it), just wasn't good at essay writing. We emailed draft after draft of his personal statement back and forth, him providing the facts while I added the humanity. Then, once that was finished, it was time for individual school essays... and secondary application essays... and shopping for a pin stripe suit that would make him look doctorly and CIA-grade sexy at the same time... and calls with lawyers to get records sealed... and court hearings... and interviews that involved coffee (and everyone knows what the coffee can do to you).
Basically, this med school pursuit process took FOREVER. So, tonight we will drink champagne and high five to celebrate this surreal accomplishment while we get a good look at each other that will hopefully tide us over for the next four years.

Congratulations Mack. I am so proud of you.