Problem Solved

I have been struggling recently with a dilemma. Two of my good friends asked me to get ordained so that I could perform their marriage ceremony next year.

Obviously, I was more than thrilled that they asked me, but then I started to get a little anxious. I mean, marrying a couple is a big responsibility. I want to strike just the right tone, something appropriate not only to their level of coolness, but also my respect for them.

Anyway, thanks to my cousin and his beautiful Egyptian-American bride, this problem is solved. I went to his wedding this weekend, and I think the whole ceremony will be a perfect fit for my friends. I’m talking Coptic Christian.

You may not be familiar with this ancient sect of Christianity, which is based in Egypt. Well, let me expound on the virtues of their wedding tradition:

• Sheer Length. What better way to signal the strength of your love than a two-hour ceremony? When we got a copy of the program (more of a missalette), we were surprised to see that it was thirty five (that’s 30 + 5, folks) pages long. However, some parts were in three languages: the original Coptic, a phonetic Coptic version using our Alphabet, and the English translation. So we thought maybe the ceremony would be shorter than it seemed. Boy were we wrong! Most of the ceremony is chanted, so phrases like “Amen” can take upwards of one minute to sing. None of this 43-minute high mass crap. You want to get to that open bar at the reception? You gotta earn it!
• Kickin’ Percussion. As I said, most of the ceremony is sung or chanted. However, there is a cymbal player too, who sometimes chimes in with an exotic 7/8 beat to the prayers. This is totally awesome, and should be incorporated into all Christian ceremonies from here on out.
• Fun Costumes. At various points in the ceremony, the bride and groom don scarlet sashes, white capes, and golden crowns. I was disappointed to see that these were removed when the ceremony was over, though. I hope they got to keep them.
• Huge Cast of Characters. In the Coptic ceremony I went to, there appeared to be approximately four priests, three deacons, six or seven guys whose job it was to sing for the congregation, and sweet old man who showed up halfway through the ceremony and did not appear to have a job, but kind of mingled around on the altar and came down to greet the parents while the ceremony was going on. This enormous number of people brings me to the next benefit:
• Chaos Theory. The ceremony was very chaotic. People were coming and going, moving microphones around, sometimes one or two guys would start singing at the wrong time, almost no one knew when to stand or sit, the couple chatted with each other, the priests chatted with the couple, all while incense was thrown about and the chanting almost never stopped. So you don’t have to worry about maintaining a look of profound interest in what the priest is saying! Nobody’s really paying attention anyway. A very relaxing way to get married.
• Retro Ideals. Although I think everyone has huge respect for the breadth of tradition inherent in this ceremony, some of the ideals were pretty, uh, Flinstonian. However, by the thirtieth time that the priest exhorted the bride to obey her husband, the giggling was pretty audible. I think we both know who’s gonna wear the sash/cape/crown in that family!*
• Lack of Crappy Musicians. Since the whole ceremony is sung, there’s no need to stress about having your second cousin sing the theme from Superman or that song from Titanic!
• Xena Warcry. We were warned that the bride’s family often capped off wedding celebrations with the traditional ululation, which is not easy to perform correctly. It sounds a bit like Xena, only more Middle-eastern. I cannot stress enough how much cooler this is than throwing rice.

Anyway, congrats to my cousin and his new wife. It was an honor to be invited to such an ancient tradition, and aside from the hotel shuttle getting lost on the way to the reception, I had a wonderful time.

And as for my engaged friends, I have already started learning to read Coptic. Unfortunately, as a woman, I cannot perform the ceremony itself, but I did start watching old episodes of Xena. Please get yourself fitted for a cape and a crown and send me the measurements.

*According to the ceremony, both of them.

Now, now, don't be mean.

My boss and I had a meeting last night with a Village committee. On Monday, we got an email reminding us, as well as the rest of the committee, that the meeting would take place, and I quote here directly, “September 12 at 7 PM at the Village Offices. We will meet in the second floor courtroom as usual.”

So, at ten to seven, my boss and I show up. We go into the Village Offices and up to the courtroom via the public entrance, which is unlocked.

At this juncture, I’ll point out that there is another entrance near the police department, but we don’t like to go in that way because the door is always locked and we always have to bother the police dispatcher to let us in.

And the waiting begins. Seven, seven-fifteen roll by and still no one has showed up. At seven-thirty, we decide to leave. But just in case, we call one of the committee members to see what’s up.

He says, “Where were you guys? We waited till 25 after!”

My boss, in a remarkable display of restraint, informs him that we are still SITTING OUTSIDE THE COURTROOM. Which, let’s all remember, is the location of the meeting.

It turns out that only three committee members showed up, and they waited for us in the chairman’s office, which, let me remind everyone, is not in, or anywhere near, the courtroom. It is, in fact, behind the police department. Turns out he didn’t have a key to the courtroom, so he decided to hold the meeting in his office.

So, rather than, oh, I don’t know, LEAVE US A FUCKING NOTE, or, say, CALL OUR CELL PHONE, or, here’s an idea, CHECK TO SEE THAT WE ARE NOT WAITING UPSTAIRS, they tell the police dispatcher, who could give a rat’s ass. Oh, and his shift ends at seven anyway, so the point is moot. And, we didn’t even go past the dispatcher because the door is locked, so the point is doubly moot. More like moot squared, actually.

Seriously, it boggles my mind that three grown men could be so thoughtless. I actually cannot wrap my mind around the fact that they just blithely thought we’d figure out the meeting location had changed. Maybe they thought we were telepathic, us big-city design consultants. Christ.

Damn youts!

A ne'er-do-well attempted to burgle my car last night. Of course this happened when My Lord and Protector (Dan) was away. However, the theft was thwarted by our time-tested security system, which includes:

1. Super jumpy/hyper dogs which go nuts at the slightest disturbance, real or imagined
2. A motion-sensitive light installed by the former owner (who was a cop)
3. A thick layer of junk in the car, which effectively masks any objects of value

Of course, now, I'll have to implement an even more stringent security device, namely:

1. Lock the car doors, dumbnuts

I called the cops, who verified that I was, in fact, the victim of attempted petit larceny. They immediately sent over a team of experts to take fingerprints , document the contents of the car, test the sensitivity of the motion detector, and interview all the residents in a two-block radius.

Of course I am kidding! They officer I spoke to, while incredibly nice, said it was only necessary to file a report if it would make me feel better, and that mine was the third recent complaint in the area.

And he told me to start locking my doors. But he did not call me dumbnuts. The dumbnuts was implied.

More weird free food

Some of you may remember, from the Goo-bread incident, that my boss is a kind, generous woman given to foisting weird food products on unsuspecting employees.

She did it again yesterday, out of the blue offering me a fresh Lake Trout that her family caught on Labor Day. (Does this fit the definition of random? I would like to think it does.) Her cousins had caught 24 fish over two days (the legal limit, for any of you game wardens reading), and no one else in the family wanted to bring them home. So she froze some and kept some fresh, figuring what's the point of owning your own company if you can't force your employees to take a fish off your hands?

Anyway, after refusing the goo-bread, I felt I had no choice but to accept a fish. I was a little worried that the fish would be spoiled, since it was caught on Monday morning and I had no idea of how well it had been refrigerated since then.

It turned out to be fine. More than fine, actually. It was a pretty big fish, maybe fourteen inches, and it was just enough for Dan and I together. I cooked it "en papillote", as the foodies say, because I am WAY too lazy to fillet a fish. As you can see, I didn't even bother to take off the fins or the tail.

Well, whatever. It was quite yummy anyway, for a free fish.

Quadruple Ouch

Yesterday I had to meet with a sales rep for a company that primarily sells playground equipment. He rattled off the names of a half dozen local playgrounds where you could see examples of the equipment. I told him that my office manager's kids go to one of the schools he mentioned.

So of course, he asked her about it. It went down like this:

Sales Guy: Hey, Kate says your kids go to Blabitty Bla Elementary! We just redid the playground there last year!

Office Manager: Oh, the one my kids keep getting hurt on?

Me: Snort.

It gets better. See, our office manager is about the nicest woman you'd ever want to meet, so she didn't say it sarcastically or meanly at all. It just kind of tumbled out of her mouth, and you could tell she instantly felt bad.

So then there was an akward exchange of them talking over each other, her trying to say that she blames the overworked teachers, who can't keep an eye on so many kids at once, while he was saying some parts are meant for older kids and maybe her daughter was too young to play on them, but would really enjoy them when she got older.

The coup de grace? Her kids are the most delicate, injury-prone children on the planet. I'm not the least bit surprised they got hurt on the playground. They get hurt or sick standing perfectly still. Seriously. In the last year, her kids have had:

Head Lice (that was a fun one)
Tonsilitis
Strep throat (about 4 times, no joke)
Anxiety
High blood pressure (at 8 years old! 8!)
Sprained ankle
Several bouts of cold/flu
Stomach virus separate from the flu
Allergies
Sinus infection
Concussion

Of course, the sales guy had no way to know that.