I had a lot to talk about and didn't really know how to talk about it, though I know some of you in Blogland wanted to read it. Sorry about that.
The Fashion Rocks event was pretty good. It was like the world's most random and expensive festival. I still don't "get" David Bowie, but he is very elegant in his middle age and exudes style, so his placement seemed appropriate. A lot of other people were enjoying his show, including the Dorkfish via cell phone. I didn't have to worry about cellies. Don't you know, it would take heaven and hell to separate fashion people from their cellies?! Besides, everyone in my section was doing it. I was more impressed by Destiny's Child, who sang a medley of hits. They just know how to perform. If this is really their last performance as a group, they went out with a bang! Shakira...well, if you don't like how she was looking and moving, you just don't like women that way. I was a bit disappointed by Pharrell when he performed with Nelly, but Gwen Stefani (who everyone just seemed to love) brought out better in him. Rob Thomas afforded me the opportunity to have a bathroom break.
We were in a fabulosity-free section in the back. I wore black to be safe. (Low-cut black, but black nonetheless.) L'Ailee, Leo cusp that she is, always has to be a law unto herself when it comes to fashion. She wears black and gray all the damn time, but black is, as she said, a cliche during Fashion Week. (And a look around bore the truth of her words out.) So she wore hot pink. People kept wondering who she was. Just a confident Lioness who loves to go for the big visual and doesn't need a mane to be beautiful, that's all...and I was so proud to be with her. I still get amazed that she acts proud to be with me, too. I thought I would stand out because of my weight, but you know what? It wasn't that bad.
I'm so grateful for all the experiences she's given me since I've gotten here. I have done so much that I would never have gotten to do in Orlando, and even going home and encountering a toy trebuchet on the dining room table and something with a title like The Big-Ass Book of Truly Fiendish Logic Puzzles for the Brilliant and/or Clinically Insane on the coffee table is different. She's unique and exciting and different, all by herself.
On Saturday, we were asked to be matrons of honor at three different weddings. My girl-cousin--remember reading about her? The one who got engaged to L'Ailee's boy-cousin this summer? Well, they've set a date for next summer. So have my friend Mona and her friend JB. So have two of her best friends, both guys, for Valentine's Day in Massachusetts. (Hopefully they'll still be allowed. ) And we've been asked to participate in an e-quaintance's wedding, too! I swear, we are going to have to charge for our services. Participating in weddings is such a pain in the ass. I hope nobody has any ideas about trying to make us wear matching dresses, because that is so not going to happen.
We're thrilled, though, honestly. We're thrilled that things are working out. At the beginning of this year, my girl-cousin and her boy-cousin didn't know the other existed; now she is moving to Michigan to get away from hurricanes and her irritating family and be closer to him. (He may be moving from Canada to Michigan after the wedding, too.) We introduced Mona and JB at one of our NASCAR get-togethers--Mona thought he was cute, and JB didn't know shit about racing, and L'Ailee convinced him that it was a really exciting sport and he'd love it. Then I told him that Mona knew a lot about it. Then they ignored the race. :-)
Mona told us we should quit our jobs and create a more inclusive version of eHarmony.com. At least we'd have better commercials, and the quizzes would be very short because L'Ailee fucking hates longdrawnout personality tests.
Sunday...well, I don't know what to say. We all know what that was. L'Ailee and I know too well. She lost people and I almost lost her--does that say enough? She's disgusted that they're doing guided tours of Ground Zero and disgusted at the whole "Patriot Day" idea. "It's not Patriot Day," she declared. "It's the day I lost Gregor and Julia. It's the day I had to call Gregor's mother in Moscow."
"It's the day I was terrified because you worked in the World Trade Center and you didn't fucking call me to tell me you were scheduled for the afternoon..."
"That too. I'm sorry."
We went to lay roses on Gregor's grave, and her Sunday class was cancelled because everyone called out, and I basically tried to distract her most of the day. We mostly avoided the media, including the web. There wasn't even a race on--we'd watched the Rock and Roll 400 on Saturday night. The first anniversary, we went to Alaska, which was awe-inspiring and beautiful. We couldn't afford that this year.
I made my moves on her Sunday morning, and she smiled and said, "You are trying to make me forget what day it is."
"To hell with that; I'm trying to make you forget your own name."
"Keep going and I will tell you if it works."
It didn't, but it was fun trying.