outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- if you like stuff that makes no sense, read this! Ask me anything. Ask me anything. I want to feel vulnerable; I want to have my soul poked. As for other things... Other things. Riiiiiight. Well ok, I'll tell you my wedding plans. Those of you who feel like vomiting about that need not read on. What I'd like to have happen: We have the service at the chapel at Mount Holyoke, a very lovely place whose inside is warm and scary like love. I'd like the Abbey Singers, the women who lead the hymns during masses (I was one of them once, and thus a "liturgical minister". Ha! Ha!) sing the processionals, that would be beautiful. They could be singing Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel with the organ while people filed in. I like the sound of that song, and it's got a religious bent so the grandfolks would appreciate it. There are other pretty songs they could sing too, if they were up for it. And since it is a community church, I wouldn't have to use a specific priest, and they may even let me have a Justice of the Peace. I'm hoping to have the service timed so that we could make the drive to Northampton, to the hotel where Rob used to work, at sunset. It's a half hour drive, and very pretty, and everything looks especially nice when the sky is gold and purple. I'm hoping that the Inn will give Rob a discount, for being a former employee; that would be a big help, since we'll be paying all by our little selves. After the reception, those who don't want to make the multi-houred trip back home could just stay. It's a pretty nice hotel; we could rent a block of rooms. What will probably happen: We'll have the wedding done by a fisherman in a parking lot and have the reception in the elementary school basement. All the music will be Metallica and all the food will be Cheetos and my grandmother will cry and cry. AND NOW FOR THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF CHEESEJOE WEDGESHIRT I have a soft spot in my heart for rolling down grassy hills. It's kind of black and rotted and I should probably have it looked at, but never mind that. I took Cheesejoe and Reggie to Flopper's Knoll the other day to introduce them to this idyllic pastime of mine. We three lied in the grass at the peak of Flopper's, seeing shapes in the clouds and making fun of passers-by. "Ooh, look at that big fat one with the gray underbelly and the ominous rumble. What kind do you think that is?" said Reggie the Wedgie. "I think it's a woman but it's hard to say," Cheesejoe ventured slowly. Since it was me they were talking about, I felt it was a good time to start rolling. Reggie followed; he was a bit of a bouncer but he made it down only slightly bruised. Cheesejoe, however, is not made for rolling and managed to get himself thoroughly stuck into the hill. Wedged, if you will. Reggie and I made the best of the situation, setting our golf balls on Cheesejoe's face and using him as a giant tee. "Splendid," said Reggie. 2:12 p.m. - 2001-09-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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