I won't stop at the foothills

wedding time = Sunday. dun dun dun.

Dan and I woke up sans hangovers (woohoo, PTL) to Katie whispering over us that we had to leave for church in an hour. I was relieved to see that I had covers- the night before he had been a human loom and I was left with handfuls of sheet and little else. My boots had come the day before while we were in the Springs, so I showered and ironed and then slid my little legs into them. People. I don't know how I ever existed without knowing the blissful feeling of sheepskin nearly up to my knee. I never intend to go without it again.

Church was still about 90% good. Somewhere in there they went a little Flatiron-ey/megachurchey, with dumb looking programs and video clips of "Meet The Parents" halfway through the service. The building was so fab, and the speaking was so good, though, I quickly overlooked it. The music has suffered a little bit since I was there. Not to say it was Grandma McDonald playing the comb or anything, but world class musicians do leave you a little spoiled. Despite it's shortcomings, Pathways is still a nails church. If I could, I'd move back just to attend. And for all the other things that I love about CO.

We got back to Buddy's after the service and I ate leftovers from the night before and she and I started out by fighting over a trash can. Oddly appropriate, now that I think of the literary symbolism of it all... I should always plan my fights to be as illustrative. After long, very calm monologues from the both of us about how there was nothing left and we shouldn't be friends any longer (we both were in agreement, nobody had any reservations- this was a first), I started crying. Yes, non-teared Liza. You know when you know something is over, but it was such a beautiful, epochal, transformative thing that you can't help but cry for it anyway, to mourn it and almost honor it in a way? That's where I was at. If this was really over, I wanted to say everything like I meant it, because I knew there wouldn't be another chance. When you are staring the relationship of your life in the face and can see the death mask slide over tired eyes, its time to be honest. There are many things we have never been able to give each other that we have both needed. We won't ever be able to give each other those things. We are too much of who we are to be somebody else. But those different people have loved each other beyond human understanding so many times that the lacking seemed superfluous. If nothing else, Buddy taught me about selfless love.

So after the crying started, and the air was cleared, we decided to keep being friends anyway. The way I see it, we don't have a choice, really. When I try to describe our friendship to people, it usually ends up sounding very epic and grandiose, but I'm coming to realize that maybe it seems that way because that's how it actually is. Some things are out of our control. No matter how hard we try to destroy it, or enable it, or leer at it with indifference, or love it until our palms bleed, it will remain. This is the category I place our friendship in. And I've never had anything else to put in that category until now; it stands alone.

Well, that was slightly exhausting.

We rehearsed for a couple of moments, because Buddy had laryngitis or rickets or something and couldn't sing, and then packed up. Once again I found myself in the back of the Jeep on the way to Red Rocks, only this time I didn't interrupt. I vocalized for a little while to Patty and Sarah M., and then we were there, packing into a full parking lot and navigating the slushy/muddy faux parking lot to the little chapel. Everything was relaxed; we headed downstairs to a little green room and tuned guitars and met Luke Flowers. He was also well over six feet. Dan with his 6'6" business and Buddy in her heels at 6'2" and Luke all together made me feel like a midget. I was the shortest of all of them by a good six inches, and I'm not used to feeling small. It was fun. They're all ridiculously good looking people, too, so that was also fun.

We headed up to the sanctuary and set up the guitars and then Dan and I wandered outside from the side door which had been propped open. We threw snowballs at a nearby tree, and looked at the Rocks, and watched Shelly and Rodney have their wedding pictures taken. The other musicians showed up and went in the side door and also a lady with advanced MS and tremors came through that way. I thought about Scott briefly, then stopped myself. Dan and I talked idly about weddings and adoption and threw more snow. He pulled his pants up high to make me laugh. It worked. We smiled at each other in the sun and then moved back in to the building.

We squeezed into the pew next to Buddy and Luke, and then she and I got up for the processional. It didn't go half bad- my voice carried pretty well and I stayed in tune. Couldn't have asked for more on that end, really. I wish Buddy had been able to sing with me, though. It was still like easing back into a well-worn, favorite pair of pants to play with her, though. Despite a little glitch at the start of the song, we never looked at each other or faltered- playing with her is as easy as playing with myself.

When we returned to our seats, the little russian/eastern european man who had been playing the piano previously was sitting in our spot, pointedly ignoring us standing right over his shoulder. I waited a polite amount of time, then leaned over to ask him if he was going to remain there throughout the service. He replied, rather loudly, that these seats were assigned to him, and we should find our own seats. Russian ass. We sat down behind him and I seethed. Dan and I flew halfway across the country, I spent hundreds of dollars, and took time off work, so this jackass can tell me to find another seat. I muttered "Russian Ass" several times, more than loud enough for him to hear, to Buddy as we wedged our way into the pew behind him. I'm sure he heard me. I was glad. She tried to stifle her laughter, and mostly succeeded. I just reached up and squeezed Dan's shoulder a lot during the ceremony, and soon enough, it was over. Let me repeat to all of you- never get married there. Never. If you ever hear of anyone planning on getting married there, tell them not to do it. And scene.

The reception was fine, whatevs, and we saw Rob there. There was great food (PTL Shelly is a vegan) and so the five of us, Buddy, me, Dan, Luke, and Rob all kind of hung out. We stayed for a couple of hours, then moseyed after Rob played a couple of our requests. We figured, even if it wasn't our wedding reception, we had put up with a lot this day, and Shelly was too twitterpated to notice what tunes were jangling out over Rob's strings. After "Rise at Sea" and "She Comes And Goes," we scooted out the door, arms full of centerpieces and bellies full of polenta.

[as a brief aside, let me not fail to mention the old codger sitting across the table from us. Man, what a card. He kept ineptly bursting into our conversation, expecting us to relish his witty statements. except that they were devoid of wit. He grabbed one of the admittedly beautiful orchid centerpieces, stuffed some more orchids from a nearby one into it, and then shoved a small decorative picture frame in for good measure. he then sauntered off to find "his granddaughter" and I took the opportunity to put the diminuative set of salt and pepper shakers in his flowers, as well. If only he hadn't looked closely when he returned... he blamed it on "his granddaughter" and I thanked my lucky stars the kids around me had a background in theatre and could fake/choke/cough their way through the moment. he just seemed so intent on taking everything off the table he could, I thought I'd help him out a bit.]

Getting home was much easier than getting there; Buddy (who was leading with Luke) got us lost on the way to the reception several times. We got back to the apartment and danced around crazily for a while before falling into a heap on the bed, whereon Dan looked over at me and said, "Wanna go get f*cked up?" I knew he was referring to Buddy's unopened bottle of 100% agave Centenario tequila, which she had had for over a year. I nodded, a contented smile appearing on my lips. About four shots in we were interrupted by a phone party. Dan disappeared into the bathroom for a while, Buddy's buddhist faux-boyfriend who overreacts and is a horrible kisser called her and she slipped out to the entryway, so I took the opportunity to call the only logical person in the world: Kati Hultman. To be honest, it was a call back since I had called her the day before (was it only the day before?) when I was so mad I couldn't see straight. She had returned my call the previous evening, but I believe at the time I was drunk and laying on a table in the Ancient Mariner with Dan, looking at the ceiling. So I returned her call, and we talked for a while, and I was amazed at how lucid I felt. The phone party ended and Dan and I took up where we left off, slamming a couple more and taking a few additionals with cranberry juice mixed in. whoooo things got pretty loose then.

Buddy left for her futon-bed and Dan and I cozied down in the down comforter and had ourselves a talk. Boy, did we have ourselves a talk. What happens in Buddy's bed stays in Buddy's bed, and that's all you're going to get from me on the subject, but let me just declare to you all now- there is nothing finer than unabashed honesty and loosing of secrets with someone you love. There is no kind of high, physical, emotional, or spiritual more transcendent than that. Some smart person once said, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." They weren't kidding. With a warm glow in my belly and a ridiculous smile plastered across my face, I drifted off to a thousand golden dreams.