People have very skewed ideas of what is scary and what is not. Listening to the radio, which is covering, almost non-stop, the humiliation of Iraq, we got to hear the sound of explosions and fire power. Michael Enright, the broadcaster, said that it sounded 'fearsome', which it did (hello, the sounds of bombs dropping don't inspire images of flower-filled fields), and was immediately told by one of the military interviewees, "I would say the complete opposite..." He went on to explain how this was the sound of a limited strike, etc., etc., but give us a break ! If you're in a city that is being blasted, you'd be terrified. The end.

Shit head.

It's a very awkward place to be, my head. We discussed it at the folding party last night, too. How can we honestly want allied soldiers to die? Yet, part of my hopes that it comes down to street-to-street fighting so that they can feel the devestation that they have wrought upon Iraq? I don't like to think about it because I'm not supposed to wish anyone dead... The USA and Britain pushed for this, despite Iraqi co-operation, despite international out-cry. This is a theatre-war and more than anything, that is what makes me mad.

Here is my dilemma, outlined perfectly by Wil Wheaton in this entry on his site. I suggest that you read it in its entirety, as it says a lot. I don't want to keep on about this, or I'm going to end up in a rant. I have to get back to preparing for Ad-Astra, anyway.

The Gaggle of Grannies is at the ROM today, working in membership, and I kid you not, they're talking about Churchill and the Second World War again. There is a new face and she has an accent of some sort, possibly Germanic, so they'd better be careful about what they say. Well, at least they don't feel that Bush is remotely similar to Churchill. Whew, like that was even a possibility.

I'm having some kind of allergic reaction on my hands. I get this sometimes, always localised to the skin between my fingers and the heel of my thumb and soft fleshy part below my pinky near the wrist. It's related to something I'm either washing with or touching, but unfortunately, that could be just about anything. It's wickedly itchy, the reaction bringing up tiny little blisters that drive me insane. It's completely irritating and I'm sure that scratching the rash only makes it worse, but if I don't scratch, it keeps on itching. Ahh ! It is probably a soap that is doing this. Gar.

Last night, I went to A&C's for fun and profit. Wait, no, that's wrong. Fun. Just fun. I got to see the enormous pile of photos developed from the disposable cameras that had been placed on the tables. There were a lot of very bad pictures. There were some that weren't so bad and there were even a few that were pretty good. Carrie and I were completely annoyed that the final ten minutes of Law and Order was pre-empted by Lloyd Robertson and the CTV news team to talk about absolutely nothing. "In a little less than twenty-five minutes, we will be going live to President Bush..." So? Did you -have- to cut away? So, Carrie and I flipped from one channel to the next, only to see the same camera shot of Bagdad at dawn on each one, with stuffy people talking about relatively nothing. We decided to watch Bush's talk, and honestly, the man is such an uninspired speaker that we had tuned out in under a minute in order to look at old drawings that Carrie had done. The one thing I learned in the whole time we watched the reports, live from Bagdad, was that people were still getting into their cars and heading to work, the city did not grind to a halt because some missiles were dropped. I felt very bad for the people of Bagdad, actually, trying to go about their lives while two crazy dictators flexed their muscles for dominance.

So, the war has begun. It was ushered in by no videogame pictures of anti-aircraft fire, the city lit by green night vision lenses. I am incredibly sad that it has come to this. That the USA is staging this pointless war in order to stake out a claim as the mightiest power in the world... I can only hope that the New Rome doesn't take three hundred years to fall. What will be left of the world then?

I don't want to talk about it anymore.

It has been confirmed ! Of course, I do not have commenting on this weblog, as I waste enough time in my day-to-day existence and certainly don't need to respond to people's comments... (I signed up for a comment service, and theoretically, I just have to insert the code, only I can't quite take the step for the above reason.) Anyway, I was greeted by a random, or at least semi-random email in my inbox. I shall reproduce it here. The weird interconnectedness thing is busy at work here, I guess, and that's what makes it neat:

Hi Maya,

I think we've met maybe once, my boyfriend Ryan went to high school with
you and Nick? At any rate, I read you entry about their wedding, and it's
pretty cool that they were married by father Massel... he and my dad went
to grade school together for a couple of years, and he's my youngest
brother's godfather.

Um, yeah, just a bit of randomness to brighten your day, I guess. :)

Jessica

Anyway, in other news, I took Rick for sushi last night, as it was a bit of an anniversary treat for us. I still haven't given him his gift, but hopefully, I'll get it to him by the end of the month. We'll see. I'm so insanely busy and poor.

I worked out some details for this weekend. I am showing art in the art auction at Ad-Astra this weekend. I'll be helping Nicole with her booth, too, so that will be fun. Hopefully, I'll actually manage to make some sales. That would be awesome. I know my work is good, so it's frustrating that people won't buy it. You know? Anyway, I keep trying and maybe this weekend will show a break-through.

One final thing, it seems that Nick is here for April, as well, since he hasn't actually found a place for real. He's looking, but there's nothing for sure at this point. This gives me more time to find a new roommate, or make plans for where I can go, though as we know, I don't want to move again. No sirree. There is a possibility that I could move into Megan's place, but only if the the woman who plans to take Rachel's room (Megan's sister) decides that she can't handle living with a smoker. I know I can live with Megan, and her place is so gorgeous that I can more than cope with living with a smoker again. We'll see. Otherwise, the offer stands with A&C which would mean my stuff would go into storage again. Time will tell.

First of all, I think you all should read this. It puts a lot of things in perspective. Thanks to Mom for sending me the link.

I'm not sure where to start, so much has been going on this past week. Of course, the BIG event was the much anticipated wedding of Al and Carrie, which happened on Saturday, the Ides of March. That date also marks my mother's birthday, so it was a very exciting day. I guess that's as good a place to start as any. I'll say this, though, I had no idea just how exhausting being in a wedding party can be. Even when the couple is as completely unstressed as A&C were, it's just plain tiring. It took two days for me to recover. Whew, I cannot stress the importance of naps.

Friday saw the beginnings of the preparations, or perhaps the end of the preparations, the final bits being done and my stomach beginning to flutter. Rick came out Friday afternoon, and after buying make-up and lingerie with Carrie (that was an adventure), we picked him up from the Greyhound station. His bus came in late so we were all late to arrive at the hall where we were to help with the decorations. From there we went to the church for the rehersal. Father Paul later told me that we'd been one of his most enjoyable wedding rehersals because we were so hilarious. It's true, I freely admit it. We're damn funny. Following that was dinner at Al's parents' place, and then the boys went to the strippers. They tried in vain to pursuade us to come along as bringing chicks earns free pitchers of beer. Uh huh. The girls didn't really do anything, we went to Jenn's to pick up the flowers for our hair and whatnot, and then came back to my house to deliver dresses. We kind of hung out for an hour or so, chatting with Mom. There were some mix-ups with the dresses, Tanya having been given Sherrie's overdress and other silliness, but we sorted it out.

Saturday began early with an appointment at the hairdresser's. The wait was long, so I ran home to get nail polish. My hair was pretty easy. It got rolled up into a bun-thing that looked like a small, round braided challah bread. It was trimmed with ivy and orchid blossoms. It was very feminine. Carrie's hair was a big fall of curls that looked lovely, and Tanya's was half up and half down and full of orchids. Sherrie's hair took MUCH longer than anyone else's to do because it had little braids and things. It looked beautiful, though, so I can't really complain. We flew back to Mom's where we ordered pizza and did our make-up. Mom did it for the Brumwell girls (Carrie, Sherrie, and their mother, Ruth) and I did mine and Tanya's. The photographer came and did some headshots in the living room and Rick went off for lunch with Sherrie's boyfriend and her father. It came down to the wire, but we got it together, piling into the limo in our gorgeous gowns. It must have appeared quite impressive for the neighbours, though. And my mother enjoyed doing the make-up and the commotion, which made for a very unique and exciting birthday.

We all arrived at the church (on time, I'll have you know), followed closely by Ruth, the photographer, and finally my mother (in the nick of time). Richie and Bill were still ushering the final arrivals, and then they had to go join Al and Ryan who were waiting in an anteroom. Apparently, Ryan was very nervous, moreso than Al, but Al said he was suddenly hit with nerves about 15 minutes before the wedding began. Carrie looked radiant and we were all very excited. I had to walk down the aisle first, and the whole time I was thinking, "Walk slower, Maya, slower... step, pause, step, pause..." I did manage a smile at Mom, though, but for the rest, I didn't even see the rest of the congregation. The ceremony was amazing. Tanya set me to crying, and when I saw Al start to cry, I started all over again. The priest, Father Paul, gave a most amazing and inspiring homalie (sp?) and the service went smoothly and was full of joy and happiness. Carrie was rendered incapable of speach at one point, either by nerves, or excitment, or just being blonde, but otherwise it was perfect. The priest, by the way, portrayed Andre, one of the theatre owners, in Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages in Toronto for a number of years. In fact, I saw him twice in it.

I'll skip the boring details of the milling around at the church and immaturity of the limo ride, and gloss over the drawn out process of photographs at the hall. By this time, my bouquet was getting pretty darn heavy. The reception was great - the food was good, though the roast beef was dry - and the dancing went on and on. The crazy DJ played a song mix made up almost entirely from requests and all of mine were played. I enjoyed the snowball dances, something I'd never before experienced. As one partner said as I mentioned this, "Oh, you must not have grown up in Peterborough." If you don't know, a snowball dance begins with the wedding party, or whomever, and they go and get a partner when 'snowball' is called, then people keep getting new partners until almost everyone is up dancing - a snowball effect. Tanya and I went quite crazy for that obnoxious tune, Cotton-Eyed Joe, including me teaching her the only linedance I know. By the end of it all, Rick was quite drunk, I was very sweaty, and everyone was covered in glitter.

All in all, Al and Carrie's was one of the best weddings that I've ever attended, and I'm not just saying that because I was a bridesmaid. No, it was a really good time. I wish them happiness and health until death do them part. Special thanks go to Rick for getting out of the way when the women overran the house, and for the help he gave Mom and I, and of course, uber-thanks to Mom, who made Saturday run as smoothly as a greased weasel in a tube. Mom, you're awesome !

One final thing to add: Today is me and Rick's three-year anniversary ! I'm wearing the garnet, marcosite and silver earrings he gave me. *smooches*