old lists, wedding errands, and a dedication

A wedding dress sits in Bob's man cave.  That's a one-sentence description of the last couple of days, but sums up well the state of life about now.  Wedding wedding wedding, in a way; Thea and Brian's in a few months, another many years back, before that girl was more than a speck.  Bob and I celebrate our anniversary next week, and Thea followed a timely nine months and one week later.  Now she's looking at nuptials, and believe me, with that dress in the extra bedroom (also now Bob's adopted hideaway), not to mention toasting flutes that arrived in the post while I was gone, well, tinkling church bells are a soundtrack to my life.  Not in an oppressive way, just new.  I've not been intimately involved in planning a wedding since my own twenty-four years ago.

(Heads-up; long-ish weekend post...)

That was a very small affair, on the front lawn of my childhood home on a sunny, windswept February afternoon.  Bob and I are heading to see Thea next week, visiting with her as well as celebrating another year together, also more wedding bits in the mix.  Yesterday I spent the day with that girl, Brian too, checking out the wedding and reception venues.  Thea and I picked up the dress, where she modeled it at the shop, again feeling that wave of giddiness and small incredulity; is this real?  Now that we have the gown, yeah, I think it is.

Waiting for everyone to arrive, but actually Bob was one of the last, offering a dramatic flair, bless his heart!  February 1988.


On Thursday afternoon, I picked Thea up at the San Francisco airport; she was coming north to spend the weekend with her betrothed, as it was their two-year anniversary, maybe it's that time of year, Valentine's Day some magnet.  That her plane arrived at 5 p.m. led to sitting in loads of traffic as we meandered through San Francisco, plodded across the Bay Bridge, then waded through the throngs trying to do the same as us; get out of the Bay Area during rush hour.  It gave us plenty of time to chat, then we arrived several hours later at Brian's apartment, where flowers and chocolates awaited my tired but pleased girl, also warm kolacky cookies Brian had made (oh were they good!).  We chatted briefly, but I was toast, and fell on the sofa with an exhausted plop, sent to dreamland by the rhythmic clacks made by a sucker fish belonging to one of Brian's roommates.  It sounded like the ticks of a clock, and I crashed to that soothing sound.

But as I'm wont, 3 a.m. hit and I was awake.  The fish was quiet, at least he had enough sense to sleep.  I scrolled through old iPod notes, deleting a good number, but keeping notes I made about Sis' twins;  T2 had eyelashes, T1 battled noisy hiccups, both girls rested against their mum for an hour and a half.  Other notes remained; books I wanted to publish (which of course has been revised about a dozen times since), the entire cast for South Downs, all the venues for Hand In Hand.  I use that note function far more than I realized, although I don't think any wedding details live in my iPod.  Thea has most of that in hand, I'm the sounding board.

Preparing to say our vows, a day I'll not forget!

The dress runner and centerpiece advisor and various other roles, but no wedding notes that I could find.  Book ideas, twin revelations, and as of yesterday morning at 5.11 a.m., the dedication for September Story.  As the fish snoozed, only a faint train rumble in the pre-dawn darkness, I thought about that novel, written in September 2008; Bob asked if I had ever come up with a more descriptive title, and no, I never have.  It's named for the month of its origin, the month when main characters Jo and Jeremy meet.  It also carries deep personal significance.  As I wrote that novel, more layers were tucked into it than iPod notes, and only over time and revisions have I plumbed those levels.  I'm planning to publish it in April, which might seem strange, why not in fall?  Well, in fall the rest of the Alvin's Farm series will be in full swing.  Instead September Story is slated for spring, which is when it was visible in the ABNA contest three years ago.

And that dedication?  I plunked it out while lying on a sofa that went from Britain to California to Thea's beloved.  That couch was from our shipment, found its way to where our kids all landed for college, now graces Brian's living room; he and Thea will take it when they move to Southern California after the wedding.  I lay there, hoping I might fall back asleep, listening for a sucker fish, only hearing a train rolling along the tracks.  Then I wrote out the dedication, thinking if I didn't, I'd lose that exact wording.  I've learned to follow the muse, whether it's 2 or 5 in the morning or whenever.  Novel revisions are one thing, but divine inspiration is another.  Now, the wording may change between now and April, but if nothing else, thoughts were captured after a long drive through a crowded city, then along dark, quiet freeways, also reaching over the last three years since I wrote this book, looking ahead to weddings and future days.

We wrote our vows, that paper now tucked away with our toasting glasses and various wedding day bits.


In autumn of 2008, Thea and Brian hadn't yet met, her second year of college, his first.  I had no plans to go indie, was barely getting my head around noveling at all.  But time doesn't stop; layers increase, imperceptibly and irrevocably.  What we choose to do with those moments and minutes, whether it's wedding dresses or plot points, makes all we are.  My favorite part of being a writer is twisting all my life (or what I still recall in this packed and aging gray matter) into some fictional hoo haa.  I try to pass along my core beliefs, that for all the crap we endure, good awaits.  Also that there is more to life than death and taxes; some deep beauty underlines all that emerges, whether it's sitting in motionless traffic while happily chatting with my eldest, sleeping on a sofa but lulled to slumber by a sucker fish, or consciousness at 5 in the morning, but coming up with what is a fairly firm novel dedication, then bringing home a wedding dress to boot!  Bob's man cave will just have to deal with it.  I'm sure by summer, that hideaway will hold more than Thea's gown and toasting glasses...

September Story dedication... For Mum, Lynn, Patrick, Sis and my husband.  For Joe, who didn't make it out of the Rover.  Especially for Dad, who did.