That Weekend

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July 10th, 2012

My knees are still aching, a creaky preview of what 50 might feel like. Soon sleep will arrive as perhaps our final visitor of the weekend (even though it’s technically Tuesday). Siri, tell me again why we hosted a graduation party one day, then shot my sister’s wedding the next. Oh, so out of town […]

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My knees are still aching, a creaky preview of what 50 might feel like. Soon sleep will arrive as perhaps our final visitor of the weekend (even though it’s technically Tuesday). Siri, tell me again why we hosted a graduation party one day, then shot my sister’s wedding the next. Oh, so out of town relatives could attend both.

To the half dozen of you traveling family members, you’re welcome!

Ushering our daughter Skye into her next reality — college — wouldn’t have been possible without a grad party. A grad party wouldn’t have been possible without a retrospective film of her life. Sorry about the naked babies. I meant it in the best possible light, to embarrass my daughter. I would love to show you the original Director’s Cut instead of what you see here. But that would take us into Wednesday. Besides, it makes me cry too much to watch it.

I think the party was a success. Apart from the rains preventing us from projecting movies on the side of our house — my common, cool-dad trick — everyone said they had a good time at the vegetarian-friendly soiree, in honor of my daughter’s dietary decisions.

We were even jokingly certified as officially Earth Friendly by my big brother Dean, who teaches Sustainability at UCLA. He made us a certificate saying as much, since we recycled all the paper and plastic from the party and composted the food waste. What really won him over, though, had to be our nifty solar night lights purchased from the dollar store. Eco-consciousness can be cheap, if you know where to shop.

The very next day after the final students left early in the morning, we rushed off to my sister’s wedding, only pausing momentarily to ponder why we purchased so much pesto. It was really my wife’s job to photograph the wedding and Skye was hired to handle the photo booth. But I honestly don’t know what to do at weddings that doesn’t involve a camera, so I tagged along as an adjunct shooter.

The best line of the night (and pardon me, social media friends whom I shared this with already) was when somebody on the groom’s side saw me dancing around and snapping pictures. He said, “you really missed your calling; you should’ve been a photographer.”

“Darn,” I thought, I’d hoped he meant dancer.

(Pause for laughter to die down)

As I’m writing this, I’m realizing that maybe my aching knees aren’t due to the crazy two days we just had but how I capped it off, with insane dancing, flailing around like a fool. My doctor aunt, the one who’s helped me throughout my battles, just sat there shaking her head.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re healthy again,” she said.

 

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