We sat with my parents, my grandfather’s partner, and my great-aunt, in the front of the hall. (I’ve never been to a wedding reception before, so I didn’t know quite what to expect.) Bevin and Sean and their Best Critters and Things of Honour and suchlike sat at a long table on a stage at one end of the hall surveying all the mortals. I suppose you all know that, but I didn’t. They did, however, descend to mingle from time to time, so I got to chat with them a bit. They looked very happy but tired, as you would expect.
The whole event looked to me like it went really well. Given the free open bar, a few people were in various stages of intoxication, but even though there were a handful of significantly drunk people everybody was having a good time and nobody was generating drama, that I could see. (I had a Manhattan for the first time, by the way, although it probably wasn’t made properly — the bartender didn’t know how to make one, and I only barely knew, having had cathijosephine tell me in passing what a Manhattan was like mere minutes before.) And even the pleasantly tipsy were decidedly in the minority.
The food was truly spectacular. I had the prime rib, which was to die for, and cathijosephine had a roasted-vegetable dish that was really amazing. It involved a couple different types of mushroom caps (including portabella), squash slices, and various other circular-when-sliced vegetables arranged into an artful tower on a bed of amazing pesto and very good cheese ravioli. Bevin told us at one point that she had impressed upon the caterers that the vegetarian option is not supposed to be just the side dishes from the other meals without the meat; she’d wanted something that lived up to the grouper and the prime rib. They clearly got the message. If tomato slices hadn’t been part of cathijosephine’s dinner, i would have been envious, despite the incredible prime rib. As it was, I helped her out a bit. It’s a sin to waste food when there are children going hungry in Los Angeles.
There was a little section where whoever wanted to could come up and say a toast to Bevin and Sean. I hadn’t known that was coming, or I would have written something up, but I ad-libbed a bit about how happy they obviously made each other and how glad and proud I was to welcome Sean into the family and it seemed to go over pretty well.
Then there was dancing! Nobody warned me there was going to be dancing! Eek! But I rarely turn down opportunities to hold cathijosephine close, so I danced a bit, and if I looked silly, I probably didn’t look sillier than a lot of the other people dancing. (My great aunt, who evidently took up country line dancing while I had my back turned, got out on the dance floor and looked great! cathijosephine danced a few dances with her, and Don got a couple good pictures of them.)
Oh, by the way, huge hugs and massive gratitude to zzbottom for giving me a suit. I’d worn sport-jackets before, but I think this was the first time in my life I’d worn an actual suit. And it had go-faster stripes! Granted, the pinstripes weren’t sparkly, but one can’t have everything and they were really quite nice.
[Just got a call from cathijosephine as I was typing this! Yay!]
So it was about 11:30 by the time the reception had mostly wound down. Bevin and Sean were staying at the hotel, so cathijosephine and I had arranged to stay at their house, which was just a few blocks from the hotel. That’s been Bevin’s house since our father died in 1997, and before that it was his, so I’ve had associations with that house for a long time, so I was hoping to get a chance to show cathijosephine the baby pictures and knicknacks and CDs and books and that sort of thing, but by the time we go there we were very tired, and we had to get up really early the next day (story to follow), so I didn’t get a chance to do much of that. Did get to snuzzle the kitties, though! They have three.
(I’m indirectly responsible for the name of one of Bevin’s cats, which is pronounced BRA-tchez. See, when I was a young child, I really liked butterscotch hard candies, one kind of which was made by the Brachs company. I could read, but my skills for sounding out words were somewhat literal. So I would be sitting in the shopping cart and I’d point at the candy and beg my mother, “Bratches, Mother, Bratches!” When Bevin got a lovely butterscotch-coloured cat who doesn’t look like he turns down much candy, she named him Brachs, pronounced Bratches, after that story.)
Anyway, the next day’s stories will appear when I get a chance.
On a completely unrelated note, I am very happy with my new computer.