Gettin' Hitched, Vegas-Style

Michael and I are back from our brief trip to Vegas for his brother Ryan's wedding. It was a whirlwind of hot pink, glitter, too little time with friends and family, Cirque du Soleil, late breakfasts, and toasts - with or without the sparkling wine.

While I have, in fact, worn a hot pink dress as a bridesmaid, I never thought I would get to see Michael subjected to this color in tux form. Pink checked satin peeked above the lapels of all the groomsmen, complete with matching ascots. Katelynn, our niece, was perhaps more thrilled at the prospect of pink. She and her younger sister, Lindsey, walked down the aisle in white dresses with pink polka dots, strewing pink petals from the intensely hot pink baskets their mom, Nicole, had decorated for them. After a practice run half an hour before the ceremony (and I'm not sure whose idea it was for the practice run, but I have the feeling it was a decision made without adult input), they had their petal placement down pat.

Ryan's bride, Lyndsay, glowed in a beautiful white gown, but still gave a nod to Las Vegas style with her show-stopping make-up. She looked stunning, and everyone else had a fun time trying on different looks for the photo booth that had been rented for the reception.

Weddings are always a special time, and at their heart, all weddings are celebrations of family and love, a chance to see friends and family together who otherwise may have never met, but who all share a common joy in seeing the couple make a public commitment to each other (and, in this very special case, a public commitment on Ryan's part to be a father to Lyndsay's son Kenny, as well as her husband). Best wishes for a lifetime together, Ryan and Lyndsay!

Leaving For Las Vegas

Although we will be gone a mere four days, packing always feels like an ordeal. Where's a matching pair of black trouser socks? What happened to Michael's travel sized shaving cream? Do we have enough change for bus fare to the airport? And why do I do this the night before we leave?

I ought to be something of an expert on packing, I suppose. And I am, in fact, pretty good at the packing light thing. That, naturally, makes me cringe when I see Michael loading up with game console cables and controllers and bachelor party gag gifts. Are we really going to be able to carry on all this junk? But this is the difference between packing for travel and packing for an event such as a brother-in-law's wedding. As Michael is the best man, he's been plotting the bachelor party for weeks and, being the perfectionist that he is, this means accumulating plenty of potential entertainment in the form of movies, games, and gags to fill up the evening - this after he has already planned a trip to a hookah bar and comedy club. I did convince him we should purchase the wedding gift in Las Vegas, however. Precious little that we would want to offer to the happy couple would fit neatly in a Rick Steves' suitcase along with our weekend wardrobe.

It will be a relief to be on the plane tomorrow, leaving the daily grind behind for a few days, heading for a celebration. Of course, just finishing up with the packing will make me feel a lot better, too. Speaking of which... I guess I'd better get packing!

Back at the Organ Again

For the past five days I have spent at least one hour each day practicing the organ. This is an unprecedented accomplishment since - well, possibly since high school. While I did play the organ weekly throughout college, I doubt that there were many, if any, times where I actually managed to practice five days in a row (I'm sure this bit of information would make my organ professor cringe at the memory). To be honest, there simply wasn't time; such dedication is a luxury few college students other than music majors can afford.

Now, however, I've grown accustomed to a life where "organist" is no longer part of my identity. Whereas I sometimes thought that few people within the world of my small hometown knew me as anything but the unofficial town accompanist, now it seems that few people I know in Seattle even recall that I know how to play an instrument at all. But thankfully my friend Leena remembered, and the result is that I'll be playing for a wedding this Valentine's Day.

And, I must admit, I'm excited. Very much so. It feels good to slide onto the organ bench and feel the pedals beneath my feet. And when it comes to pulling out all the stops, there's nothing like trilling through Widor's magnificent Toccata to get a musical high. Why don't I do this more often?

Of course, I know the answer: it isn't convenient, and, when other responsibilities or simply the desire to curl up on the sofa at home call, it becomes a chore rather than a joy. But I don't want this to be the end; I am still a musician, I realize. It's too deep in my history to just disappear, even through the quiet years.

So perhaps I should put myself out there again as a substitute organist, and perhaps there will be other weddings in the future. But for now I'll focus on this one - the rehearsal is tomorrow night, and I plan to be ready!