fitness plan, wedding anniversary, and wedding reception

I've been out of school now for a couple of weeks and can only say that I'm getting dumber and chubbier every minute I've been out. During the summer I usually commit myself to getting fit, but for some reason I just can't get myself to do it this time. I'm going to force myself to do Pilates tomorrow and then go to Jazzercise. I hope this will jump start my summer fitness program. All the graduation parties and my wedding anniversary these past couple of weeks have not done a thing for my waistline. As for the getting dumber thing, I'm not sure anything can save me. Just yesterday I had to ask David what the genitive singular personal pronoun was for 3rd person in Latin. It's "eius" by the way. But it was really disturbing because I have taught that very pronoun to people for the past two years. I predict that by the end of the summer I will only be able to read at Dr. Seuss level. Maybe that's not so bad. I mean, the guy's a doctor. I don't know what he got his PhD in. Perhaps it was rhyming. I've heard that Whoville University has a really competitive program in rhyme. Or maybe Dr. Seuss is actually a cardiac surgeon. I don't know. The point is that I'm getting stoopid. I don't think there is any help for my fitness or intellectual situation. Bummer.

I did mention in passing that David and I had our wedding anniversary recently. It was on the 20th to be precise. I woke up with a bit of an anniversary headache from a wedding and reception I went to the day before. (more on that later) It was nothing some Advil and Gatorade couldn't fix. Anyhow, we woke up and David made an anniversary smoothie while I made an anniversary cup of tea. Then we went to anniversary mass and came home and took an anniversary nap. Afterwards, we had an anniversary steak dinner, went anniversary bowling, and then watched an anniversary movie. And yes, we did refer to all of these things as our anniversary this and that. It got pretty funny by the end of the night. We even extended it to the next day when David and I went anniversary golfing with Peter. Being married is pretty fun for the most part, and I give my first year of marriage two thumbs up.

Now, on to the wedding from the night before. I went to a wedding of some people I hardly know because one of my friends asked me to be her guest. The wedding was at Blessed Sacrament, or what I've heard an Irishman call "Our Lady of the Mothership" for its interesting architecture that I guess resembles a flying saucer. Its not my favorite Catholic church in town but they do have a great devotion to St. Monica there. I'm not going to critique the wedding or anything, but I'll say that it was pretty "mod" and they didn't even have communion even though both people getting married were Catholic. Weird. Weird and fishy actually.

Anyhow, we only found out a couple of days before that the reception that we thought was going to have an open bar was really going to be as dry as one of those cow skulls you see out in the desert. That would be fine, but Kristin, Brett, Jocelyn, and I all wanted to dance. And being from the socio-econnomic and ethnic backgrounds that we are from, (white, middle class kids with Irish, Sweedish and Hungarian roots, respectively) we cannot dance without alcohol. So I borrowed David's three flasks, filled them with Bacardi, stuck them in my purse, put the rest of the booze in Kristin's trunk, and entered the reception. This was all with the bride's permission, by the way. Then we ordered our cokes, went to the bathroom, poured our alcohol in them and proceeded to get a healthy but modest buzz. Then the flasks ran out, so we decided to go out to the car to fill up again. This was our fatal flaw. We took our cokes outside, filled them up with booze and came back in. But before we could get back to the reception hall we were stopped by the EXCISE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!! The man showed us his badge and asked us if we had any alcohol in our drinks. By this time I was buzzing pretty hard, so I contemplated either drinking my rum and coke really fast and asking him "what drink?", or just flat out telling him "no." But more sober heads prevailed and Kristin told him "yes." So this jerk confiscates our drinks and lectures us about how the hotel could be fined and blah, blah, blah. I thought this was ridiculous because we could have stepped three feet to the right of the officer and gone to the hotel bar, had 20 beers, and walked right back into the reception hall if we wanted to. A couple of days later when I was telling this story to Mrs. Schafer, she asked me who the excise police were, and I told her that they were people who wanted to prevent other people from having fun at wedding receptions. And I still partly hold to that.

Anyhow, the rest of the reception was pretty boring because the DJs played really lame music. I asked one of the DJs to play "2 Legit 2 Quit" because my friend Kris was there and he and I have some history with Hammer. Well (and I'm not kidding) when I requested the song, the DJ gave me this look like, "we don't play that kind of music." And she was from Kentucky. If she had a problem with Hammer, I would have hated to see her face if I had had a lot to drink and requested "Push It" as I have at other receptions. Basically, that was my wedding reception/slash run-in with the cops experience.

Later on we did go to the hotel bar with the rest of the wedding party where I witnessed my debit card being stolen. I promptly walked up to the girl, looked at her with my debit card in her hand, took it out of her hand, said "thank you" and walked away. I also had my hand crushed by the mother of the groom that night. She walked up to me in the bar and said in a really crappy tone, "how do you know my son?" Well, I was scared because technically I don't know him. After I had explained, she shook my hand and squeezed it really hard for a really long time, and it hurt like hell. So many other little things happened that night, but I think this post has gone on long enough. So I'm just going to end it here.