cindy's world

Mr. W’s kidlets left some time ago to attend Round 2 of Christmas with their mother’s side of the family. I guess it doesn’t hurt for them to get used to all the traveling for when they’re married and have the spouse’s family to add to the partyhopping. Having made myself a 4-shot Screaming Orgasm drink over ice (Bailey’s, Kahlua, vodka, Amaretto), I got sleepy and went to take a cat nap with Dodo in the bedroom. He’s so warm to snuggle my face into during the winter. I woke up and came downstairs to this:

There’s nothing like father-son bonding over fishing together…on the Wii.

As I type this they’re playing House of the Dead 3. Shooting zombies together just like in the good ol’ days right before Santa’s reindeer trot their way onto our roof as the aroma of gingerbread wafts through the air.
What’s Christmas without hearing in the background: “Reload. Re-re-reload.” “What’re you shootin’ at them heads for?” “Cuz that’s the weak point.” “They’re comin at us from all areas, too!” “Re-re-reload.” “Oh my God, the shotguns!” “He’s not feeling them, though.” “Ahh! He got me!”

Tonite for dinner, Mr. W’s mother made meatloaf, I made (by special request) onion mushroom soup with seasoned cheddar French bread toast, Mr. W threw some veggies into the nukebox, I spun up some cocktails (Chambord Manhattans for Mr. W and his mother, Bloody Mary for Mr. W’s father), and we had a nice homemade dinner listening to Dean Martin and Brian McKnight crooning Christmas songs. Now, the fireplace is lit with some organic coffee log crackling, and we’re hanging out in the living room. Dodo’s curled up napping on our bed. Life’s pretty sweet. Here’s our front yard, in a crappy cameraphone pic:

Mr. W’s about to show his parents his fobby side by making loose-leaf tea the old-fashioned Chinese way with all his special tea utensils and precious tea service sets. “What the HECK is that?!” I just heard my father-in-law exclaim. Haha!

The mountains around us are white with snow;
Surrounded by furry bodies and flannel sheets,
the tapping of rain lulls me to sleep.

It is POURING right now. The streets are flooded, up to 4-5 inches deep along the edges of the roads. The gutters and storm drain systems are unable to handle this amount of water. On the way to work splish splashing other cars next to us, Mr. W griped about how California (unlike his hometown of Chicago) has no clue how to equip itself for any type of weather except sunny days. I shrugged. Why spend billions establishing a system for something that only happens 15 days of the year? Hopping over the flowing wide rivers trying to get to the building from the parking structure, it did feel a lot like UCLA finals weeks (when it seems to ALWAYS be pouring).

Here are some memories of sunnier days, taken from a walk Mr. W and I took around our neighborhood just last month.
The afternoon before our walk:

The Lake:

Mr. W, taking a break on the path:

While Jordan and I were pedaling our heinies off on the 2-person pedalboat the day before the wedding, we came across one lakeside mansion that Jordan claimed to be hers. She took a bunch of photos of it, and then suggested we get close enough so that she could climb onto the property. “Drop me off! I can be in there a WEEK before they even realize I’m there!” she said. This is the front entrance of that property. The backside is the Lake.

(as always, rest mouse pointer over photos for captions)

This was something new this year. The judges in the building each donated big bucks to make an off-location Christmas party happen. Our administrators and some volunteer coworkers rented out a rec hall on Friday from 11:30a to 2p and we had an impressive catered lunch (turkey, ham, all the trimmings, cakes) along with tons of raffles. SANTA walked in to hand out the prizes.

It was a pretty convincing acting job, and if I hadn’t been told shortly before his appearance that Santa is one of our judges, I would’ve been tempted to sit on his lap and tell him I’ve been a good little girl this year. Of course, knowing who it is and THEN doing that would be sexual harassment.
It soon became a pattern that each winner of a prize would go up, collect his/her prize, and then stay to take a photo with Santa, and then it’d be on to the next prize. It soon became apparent that all the pretty girls were being directed by Santa to sit on his lap as the photo pose. That was when I shrunk down and prayed, “Don’t pick me. Don’t pick me.” I got my wish, by the way. A lot of my female coworkers who were dragged by their hands onto Santa’s knee looked embarrassed. And then there were the judges, like the presiding judge and MY judge, who pranced up when called and threw themselves on their colleague’s lap for the photo op. My big boss even raised both his legs up and sat across Santa’s lap as if Santa were about to carry him over the threshold. Everyone shrieked with laughter and camera flashes went off.
As much as I enjoyed being a spectator, I was happy to have averted disaster this year. I was in a fluffy gauzy and, in some coworkers’ opinions, very short skirt.

The Southland is on fire again. In the last few days the Santa Ana winds kicked up again, drying up the air, giving people allergy symptoms, knocking over my little avocado tree next to our front door. The last time the Santa Ana winds were here some weeks ago, the quantity of fires in Southern California sapped our state’s emergency funds and worried all homeowners, residents and allergy sufferers. I thought fire “season” was over with, seeing as how November’s seasonal designation should be “Thanksgiving,” right? 🙁

There are multiple fires burning right now, and this time a lot closer to home. Specifically, it’s burning in the city immediately east of my house (Brea) and the next city over (Yorba Linda), and as houses burn, people are evacuated. I text-messaged my tenants to make sure they’re okay. There’s also another fire in Anaheim Hills, which is the one you see in my cellphone photos. 8,000 acres have burned so far, and the fire supposedly started in Corona (near Dwaine) and went west from there. The fire jumped a major freeway artery and burned on at the other side as freeways linking my parents’ city to my old city to our current city are shut down. Many homes have been lost; the Santa Ana winds, being dry and fast, has been carrying burning embers up to a mile away and landing elsewhere, starting another fire.

I’m just watching the TV biting my fingernails, texting people and making sure people in the path of smoke or fire have checked in with me. I texted my godson (Gym Trainee’s boy Evan), who reported that it was scary where he is 50+ miles away with ashes and smoke in the air; the smell is entering their house. I asked if he had his inhaler nearby just in case. He responded that it was in his pocket. 🙁 The news reporter just said that firefighters are trying to use residents’ garden hoses to save as many homes as possible, but the winds are so hot and whipping that they’d just pick up an ember and light another house on fire, and it was impossible to determine which house would be next. 🙁

We woke up to a pretty day today. To make people in less sunny November days jealous, I took this photo on cameraphone from our master bedroom window and sent it to some peeps.

Downstairs, my husband asked, “Wanna go to Knott’s Berry Farm today?” It’s their annual veterans-get-in-free time, so YEAH! (Mr. W is a Marine.) We got dressed and got there a little past noon. It was a pretty day in Buena Park, too.

You can tell the Californians from the out-of-towners cuz the Californians are the ones in designer sunglasses but long-sleeved shirts and jackets, whereas those from out-of-state are in t-shirts and shorts talking about how “nice” this 70-degree weather is. After making ourselves sick on two rides (we’re getting old), we decided, less than 4 hours later, to just call it a day and head over to my parents’ house early for our weekend visit. My parents showed us the photos they took of my cousin Diana’s wedding, which were of course of better quality because they had an actual camera, not just a cameraphone like me. But I still think my photos had a better artistic quality. Haha. “It almost looks like you intentionally put the flowers in the photo,” my dad said, looking at my cameraphone photos.
“I DID,” I said defiantly. I mean, did he think I was leaning way over into the aisle and shooting upwards because it was comfortable? Hmmph.
Anyway, these are some of my parents’ photos.

Mr. W and I don’t have any photos of just the two of us like that; even in the hour we booked exclusively for a photo shoot before the wedding, we took group shots. We figured at the time that we have tons of photos of just the two of us, but it’s a precious and rare thing to have everyone we love all together at the same place, all pretty and dressed up, so we took exclusively group photos. I kinda regret now, looking at our photos and other peoples’ photos of their weddings, that we don’t have intimate shots like this.

Everyone asked me if they’d copied our cake design. I know that my cousin had commented how much she loved our cake, but really, how many ways can you make a 3-tiered round cake with your floral motif displayed? But even if they were inspired by our cake design…

…I’d take that as a compliment.

Cutting into said cake design.

For the first time I got to see what *I* looked like that day.

Me and the ‘rents.

Me and the moms, showing off how much liquor we had in hand.

Instead of doing a Costco sheet cake like other people when they’re afraid the wedding cake isn’t enough, they did a CLAIM JUMPER MOTHERLODE CAKE. (You have to click on that for a slice image. Really. You do.) Don’t you just wanna get down and worship these two people?!

My husband getting down.

I just like this shot of my legs.

Good times.

My newlywed cousin and her new hubby gets back from their Jamaica honeymoon late tonight.

I am SO bitter.

Since we moved recently, Mr. W called the county registrar-recorder last week to see where we’re supposed to vote. Would I be voting in my hometown, where I was previously registered? Or had my changing my address with the Department of Motor Vehicles effectively changed my voting place to our new city? Turned out, I was to vote at neither location. I’m not allowed to participate in this election AT ALL.

Mr. W gave his date of birth and name, and was told he is still registered to vote in his old city, but when they looked me up, they said that because I had not voted the last few years, I was “purged out of the system.” What?! What does that mean?! It means I’ve been involuntarily, automatically un-registered. Well, how do we reverse that so that I could vote?, Mr. W asked them. It’s too late. “She won’t be voting in this election,” they told him.

When he called me at work last week to tell me this, I was dumbfounded. “You didn’t vote the last few years?” he asked me.
“Why would I vote the last few years? There was no presidential election!”

I can not believe that I am alive during this amazing ground-breaking pivotal election, which will be recorded in the history books forever as the first presidential race in which a black man AND a woman were the front runners for the Democratic party, and a black man is the Democratic candidate, and a woman is the Republican vice presidency candidate, Barack Obama is taking the country by storm (especially in my home state of California) not because he’s black, but because (and I truly believe this) Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s dream has finally solidified into reality and this educated innovative respectable man, who just happens to be black, is being judged and taken seriously by this country based on the content of his character, and not by the color of his skin. I am economically conservative, but I cheer the progress of this country on in its ability and eagerness to accept and WANT Barack Obama as its leader.

Sure, there are bigots. Sure, there are racists spewing blood and chanting bloody murder right now, but they are the minority. I think in LARGE part, this country has become pretty colorblind. But speaking of small-minded idiots, I also REALLY wanted to participate in this election to vote NO on Proposition 8, which bans gay marriages. Our town, it turns out, is tightly conservative. For weeks on end, people have stood on street corners during rush hours holding “Vote YES on Prop 8” signs. “Prop 8 for Religious Freedom.” “Proposition 8 Supports Families.” They have TICKED ME OFF beyond reason. All the cars honking their support driving by these sign holders, lots of whom have pulled their young CHILDREN out of school to wave these signs with their prejudiced parents on corners, have caused me to rave at least 3 minutes straight every time we drive by them on the way to and from work. Most of these people, come to find out, were volunteers from a very large local church. Mr. W one day offered, “Do you want me to print out some signs for you that you can post up?”
“YEAH, how about BIGOTRY IS UNGODLY?”
Cuz here’s my view on it. Who the hell are YOU to judge what other people do with their lives? Who are YOU to say you get to dictate what’s right for everyone else? That’s like saying, “I don’t like bananas. I don’t eat bananas. And because of that, I’m going to pass a law that NOBODY gets to eat bananas anymore, either. A ban on bananas!” What the hell. Maybe some people only HAVE bananas to eat. Maybe some people LIKE bananas. Maybe some people are allergic to apples. If you don’t like bananas, DON’T EAT THEM. That’s it. There was a floater who came by my courtroom the other week and decided to sit down, make herself at home, and spew all sorts of one-sided uninformed garbage at my courtroom assistant, and one of the things she raved about was supporting Proposition 8. “If that’s what you choose to do [be in a same-sex relationship], that’s what you choose to do, but don’t try to change the Constitution to say it’s correct. It isn’t.” That’s an exact quote cuz I wrote it down immediately. She also insists that Prop 8 doesn’t ban gay marriage, it just doesn’t allow the Constitution to change the definition of “marriage” as “being between a man and a woman.” “They can still get married or whatever they do,” she said. She’s WRONG. Even Prop 8’s own radio ads say that it “eliminates right of same-sex couples to marry.” And to same-sex couples, a “commitment ceremony” not legally recognized by the state is NOT the same thing as getting married. And what are they gonna micromanage next? Are they gonna say that they don’t want different races to intermarry? That only people within 5 years of each others’ ages will be allowed to marry? What the hell does someone else’s same-sex marriage have to do with Prop 8 people? As for the supposed child impact about how same-sex marriage destroys family units, what proof is there that same-sex couples are unable to provide the same nourishing, loving home environment for children? What makes parents flawless just because they’re dual-gender? Do they think that if a lesbian couple raises a boy that he will have zero access to other men in the world and hence will miss out on influence of adult men? PLEASE. And mandatory school teaching about same-sex marriages? WHOT the FOCK? I’ve asked everybody and nobody was taught marriage in school that I’ve talked to. And if a child in a classroom asks a teacher about same-sex marriages, that teacher SHOULD be able to explain, without being lynched by religious paranoid parents, that some people emotionally lean toward and fall in love with people of their own gender. It’s a REALITY. It HAPPENS. It has ALWAYS happened throughout history. It happens in BONOBOS MONKEYS, our closest primates. Sticking your heads in the sand and trying to force your own kids’ heads in the sand does not change the fact that the world is made up of DIFFERENT PEOPLE.

Because this post has gone on for way longer than I thought, I’m gonna not touch on any other issues. That, and I feel a little better now. But I am still EXCEEDINGLY SALTY that in the future when some kid, maybe even my own kid, asks me how I voted in that one historical election where [the first black man became president] or [the first woman became president cuz she was the first female vice president when the man who did win presidency died of old age] and they tried to do away with fundamental civil rights to marry, I’d have to say, “I didn’t vote.”

I sat here after work watching Mr. W vote.

My Canadian cousin Mark text messaged me right then, “Did you vote?” (The world’s watching us.) I had to tell him the same thing I told the two volunteers giving out “I voted!” stickers when they offered me a sticker asking the same question. “I didn’t vote.” The volunteers actually physically drew away from me and their “Ohh” involuntarily carried a scornful/disgusted tone as they looked at me being unAmerican.

Now I know how my 10-year-old godson Evan feels every year his mother, Gym Trainee, takes him with her to vote. He’s been ranting for years about how age-discriminatory it is that children are not allowed to vote. Each year as he stands in the waiting area watching grownups vote, waiting for his mother and grandmother, he sulks. One year he tried to follow his mom into the voting booth. She told him to stay in the designated waiting area, he was not allowed to follow her in. “But you can’t HEAR my opinions from THERE!” he’d complained.

We’ll both be sulking this year, Evan.

If you were observant in reading the last post, you would’ve noticed a wedding invitation on the tabletop in the photo. That’s my cousin Diana’s wedding, which took place yesterday at the Marbella Country Club at San Juan Capistrano, which is truly a beautiful setting. And of course Mr. W forgot his camera, so I was the weenie taking photos with her cameraphone. Again. You can bring out captions by resting your mouse pointer on the photos.

I was on reception table duty, so I got there a bit early, and ran into the happy couple taking their pre-wedding photographs. That was what we did to reduce the time that guests would have to wait between the wedding and reception, which is the traditional photo-taking time. So I guess all four of us are more practical than superstitious about the groom seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding.

Ever the it’s-all-about-everyone-else gal, my cousin said as I walked up, “Wow, you look beautiful!” And I was like, “ME?! Have you LOOKED in a mirror today?!”

They talk about radiant brides, but wow, she had some glow going on! It was like she swallowed some stars and was now walking around illuminating everything around her. That included her almost-husband, whose eyes softened every time he looked at her and it seemed he could not stop touching and kissing her. Of course it could be stage directions being called by the photographers, but I’d like to think it was cuz he truly appreciated the moment.

~ THE SCENE ~
A shot down the aisle:

Overview of the ceremony set-up:

The altar (and yes, that IS a water trap with a waterfall at the golf course):

They don’t appear to have one theme color, but instead embraced all the rich jewel tones of the autumn: golds, burgundy, browns, oranges. Their decor was beautiful.

~ THE PLAYERS ~
Their aisle walk pairings were unique. Here is the groom with the bride’s paternal grandmother.

The groom’s father and mother. Wow, these two LOVE their new daughter-in-law. I’d never seen anything quite like it.

Bride’s sister (and maid of honor)’s fiance, Brad, walking bride’s mother. If he looks familiar, it’s because Brad welcomed guests along with my cousin, his fiance Jennifer, at my wedding’s reception table.

My aunt was so cute, she was all smiles and waved at everybody at the bride’s side on her entire walk down.
The best man, Russ (groom’s brother) and the maid of honor, Jennifer (bride’s sister).

And then, the flower girls, the daughters of my cousin Olivia.

The parents of the flower girls, my cousin Olivia and her hubby Eric.

Whoa, wait, who’s that? Who’s behind there?

All stand for the bride (with her father)!

Awwwwwwww! She’s beautiful! *sniffle*

Walking her to her almost-husband…

“Thank you, daddy.”

I swear, I was not this teary at my own wedding.

~ THE CEREMONY ~
So my uncle hands off his elder daughter…

…to be entrusted into the care of this waiting man.

On top of the world. Listening to their officiant tell everyone the story of how Doug proposed.

My cousin Jennifer was so happy for them.

My mom and dad. Awww.

They exchanged vows. He spoke touchingly of how much she meant to him.

She did the same, vowing to honor him forever in a quivering, emotion-filled voice. Both of them had to wipe at their faces up there. But they recited their vows without a hitch.

They also did a rose ceremony, honoring their parents by presenting each with a rose and a hug.

And then, for his parents.

Seriously, look at the way her new father-in-law is looking at her. To Doug’s parents, she’s already their daughter. (During the reception, Doug’s father gave a speech talking about the first time he met Diana, and how he knew within 5 minutes that she was someone very special and she was the one for his son. “I don’t know how long it took DOUG to figure it out,” he joked. And then he talked about calling Diana on her cell phone shortly after their engagement to get a hold of his son, since he knew that Doug never picked up his phone [the audience laughed knowingly], and recognizing the phone number, Diana had answered the call with, “Hi, Dad.” He said he was surprised and it threw him off for a moment, and after a pause, he realized and said, “I really like the sound of that.” Tears, man! All over their wedding.)

The ring exchange.

And the epic moment, the you-may-now-kiss-the-bride seal on the wedding vows:

Presenting, the new Mr. and Mrs.!!!

Walking away into the sunset. Or pretty blue cloud-laced sky, in their case.

See what I mean about the sky? It was the PERFECT day, and it RAINED that morning, too!

~ THE COCKTAIL HOUR AND RECEPTION ~
Upstairs in the cocktail area…

…a handsome man awaited me, too.

My dad chatted inside with his eldest sister while behind them, Mr. W…uh…I was gonna write that he was waiting for me, but now that I look closer at the photo…*looking closer*…I think I need to finish off this sentence with, “while behind them, Mr. W checked out some blonde chick’s back and legs.”

That girl was everywhere in my photos. It seemed that every time I changed direction to get a shot, she’d move in front of it.
This is a Chinese girl, so this is Dress #2, a pewter sparkly ballgown:

The flower girls playing with their mom, my cousin Olivia, and their cousin, as their dad looks on:

And then all of a sudden they all ran away from each other. What a strange game. =)

Everyone had a great time at the cocktail hour.

You know it’s a good wedding when I’m buzzing before dinner’s even begun. I had champagne, chardonnay, AND a lemon drop on an empty stomach. So I ate a couple of hors d’oeuvres. Their food was amazing.

At the reception, we were at Table 3 with the maid of honor and her fiance, and the bride’s parents.

The sweetheart table was right next to us…

…which made for great photo ops. Too bad I didn’t have a camera (aside from the cameraphone which took all the photos you see here).

I’d like to point out the loving looks my cousin Jennifer’s fiance is giving my cousin here. They’re getting married late next year. 🙂
The couple listening to a speech before dinner:

This happened a lot:

They had one of those storybook classic weddings where everything was beautiful and touching and loving and there were happy tears everywhere. You feel your heart swell to be a part of it, like you’re truly, to borrow a quote from Friends, “in the presence of love.” Made me almost feel bad for demanding that our wedding be all happy-happy-joy-joy and tearjerker-free. At the time it seemed like a great idea to have a unique non-traditional wedding style and I just told people that if I’m spending that much money on makeup, they’d better not make me mess it up with crying. I actually just am not that comfortable with being emotional with witnesses… Oh well.

During the cake-cutting, my mom, the bride’s mom (my aunt), and Mr. W thought it was BRILLIANT to take the photos from outside to get a truly unique angle.

Until we realize how crappy lighting was.

That was dress #3, the red Chinese dress. It was too darkly lit by this time to get a good shot of it, but she looked beautiful in it. This is Dress #3 during the dancing part of the evening, when the bride took photos of people dancing at her own wedding. Silly girl.

I don’t know HOW this picture happened, but it’s to my advantage. Now we can see the bride’s dress!

It was rumored that there was a Dress #4, but when I asked her about it, it was while we were already dancing the night away and Mr. W’s gold dress shirt had turned into a brown washcloth, and my cousin said that she couldn’t imagine how she could possibly peel the Chinese dress off her at this point and was thus bypassing the fourth dress.

And THERE’s my photojournalistic wedding story of my cousin Diana’s wedding to her new husband, Doug. Congratulations to the happy couple! 😀