Monday, October 09, 2006

Fertility Log

Okay, first, an apology that I have been so utterly failish in updating this thing. The problem is basically that law school is hard and I am lazy. Also, not a lot has happened that has lent itself to blogging. If I could sum up my activities over the last week or so -- completely out of sequence, of course -- it would be something like: watched Law and Order, ate entire jar of cheese dip, went sake bombing, read about theft, did a class at the gym called "Balletone" that actually involved plies, and attended two different, equally useless training sessions for various things. Aren't you glad I didn't write about it?

This weekend, however, definitely deserves a big mention in the blog, because it was jam-packed with fun stuff. On Friday, I flew to New York City and went out with my long-lost roommate/life-partner, Foolia! Oh, how I missed her. The last time we had seen each other was on the grimy streets of Sao Paulo, when we both stood in front of my office crying before I had to hustle back in to the corporate misery that was my paralegal job, where I remained until 11 pm that night. I didn't even get to say "tchauzinho" to her before she got on the plane. Sniff.

Anyway, we went to some bars in the Lower East Side on Friday, including this truly fantastic Latin pop club called Suba, which had a cool, Jardins-esque vibe, with the floor of the restaurant suspended over water, bright red walls and sultry lighting. But the best part about Suba was the musica. They played all our favorites: Juanes, David Bisbal, Shakira, Paulina Rubio, Bacilos, etc. Oh, how we danced.

One interesting note about that night had to do with the guy at Suba who picked up girls -- literally, picked them up off the floor and hoisted them around -- and told them they were "so f***ing beautiful." This dude picked up Julia's friend Lily (but she was kinda into it), then turned to me and somehow managed to pick me up, even though I was scrabbing frantically to get away like a dog about to be put into a bathtub. So that was weird. Almost as weird as when a guy I met in a bar in D.C. tried to get me to throw up by sticking his fingers down my throat in the middle of our conversation. But that's another story.

So that was Friday. We came home and took embarrassing pictures with the camera on my computer, in which Julia claims she looks "Mongolian" in every one, and then I crashed onto the couch at 4 am. I woke up at 9:45 the next morning to make myself look halfway decent for Megan's commitment ceremony. My cousins Amanda and John picked me up at 11 and, after getting lost somewhere in Jersey City for a good hour or so, we eventually found our way to Goshen, in upstate New York.

Megan and Luz chose to have their ceremony at a place called The Empowerment Center (Centre?), which of course sounds like the most stereotypical place in the world to have a same-sex commitment ceremony. But the place was really cool -- it was a big, stone farmhouse with dormitory-style sleeping, a laundry room, a kitchen, and big common spaces. The surrounding acreage was really very beautiful -- bright green hills and lots of trees just starting to change color. They had the ceremony out back overlooking the hills, and the reception was in a big covered tent.

The ceremony was really nice. Megan and Luz asked their various groups of friends and family to come up and give them blessings. My family definitely won (since it was obviously a competition), because there were a lot of us, and our blessings kicked butt. Michael, for example, wished for Megan and Luz that "all of their tennis matches end in a score of love-love." Awesome. One of Luz's groups of friends gave them a fertility log which was later burnt at the campfire. I think I had already crashed into my bunkbed at that point. I certainly don't need any fertility fumes wafting my way, thanks. After the ceremony, we all retired to the large tent to dance till the wee hours, consume copious amounts of booze/red bull, and eat tons of wedding cake and fondue. Mmmmm.

The next morning everyone woke up feeling a bit ragged, but we pulled ourselves together and drove back into the city. Some of us went to Spanish mass at St. Patrick's, then wandered around Times Sqaure and ate Tastee Delite (the east coast version of yumi yogurt) till it was time to go to the airport. All in all, an excellent weekend.

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