august 19, 2002.
Happy anniversary to us!
All things considered, this was a pretty boss anniversary. We woke up on our floor futon and began to putter around in a desultory way with the few items we'd fetched last night. The Boy was all for starting to unload the van, but I convinced him that it would be wiser to wait until more people sought admission to Move-apalooza 2002. He did drag most of that stuff into the Moveable Beast, but at Mount Olympus there are three or four flights of stairs to contend with. Besides, the whole point of a moving party is to enjoy moving. Killing yourself by hauling boxes every which where misses the point.
Of course, I was about to leave for Queen Street at that moment, and I just may have been motivated by self-interest, i.e. not wanting to feel guilty about fucking off in the middle of Move-apalooza.
In any case, I soon found myself in Osgoode station 20 minutes before my meeting time. This never happens to me. Ever. Luckily I had another job to do: call the Evil Phone Company and get a telephone line to Olympus (which, to continue the metaphor, is something like burnt offerings). By the time I had navigated the maze of the telephone system, I was 10 minutes late. Balance restored, the universe heaved a huge sigh of relief.
When Miri showed up, we went to the Fluevog store. She was looking for shoes. Shoes that were "kinda like Docs, but maybe not Docs." I thought that Fluevog fit the bill admirably, and besides, it would give me a chance to lust after the purple Sheena's that I will be buying with the first available pay cheque. The guy behind the counter was reading a magazine and listening to the Stone Roses when we came in, and he seemed perfectly happy to bring us shoes that we didn't intend to buy. It was a vast improvement over the time I went there with Lady Godiva, when I was ignored by the entire staff. And then, just to make our retail redemption afternoon complete, we stopped in at Tiger Lily for lunch and discovered that the service and food has greatly improved since my last disastrous visit. I had the pad thai. It was just like old times.
Although I was early getting to Queen Street, leaving it was just this side of impossible. First we stopped in a number of shoe places for Miri's benefit, then we wandered into the Silver Snail for no good reason. Finally, as we passed the City TV building, I had a revelation.
Hey, I thought. I know someone who works there. So I had Ian paged.
I, the girl in braids, lately of Hicksville Nova Gothic, had somebody in the City TV building paged. More precisely, I had the ultrahip secretary call the guy who used to fall asleep next to me in Narrative class. I felt so cool. He came down wearing a NIN shirt, looking confused.
"Where were you two years ago today?" I practically shouted.
"Uhhhh, your wedding?" he ventured tentatively. I beamed.
We moved outside to talk, and he immediately began waving to the people who walked by. A guy in a Tin Tin shirt stopped to chat, and Ian introduced him as Mark Askwith the producer and creator of the excellent but sadly defunct sf & comic teevee show "Prisoners of Gravity." The four of us had a lively conversation about comics, education, literature and storytelling before Mark went off for lunch.
"Wow," Miri said. "Neil Gaiman calls him. Neil Gaiman keeps him on the phone, reading Mark the stories that he's working on."
"Ha! When I told you about Ian's literature contacts, you were like, 'oh Amoret, they're just people.' Now you're all star-struck."
"Yeah, but - Neil Gaiman..."
I laughed delightedly. Finally, a gold-plated, true-blue Toronto experience to offer our guest.
When we got back to the Mount, we found Dirk & Tymothi:J hard at work. Or rather, as the Boy put it, they were all moving like Teamsters: move a box, take a rest. I managed to make it through the third phase of Move-apalooza without moving a single item into the house, although I did spend a fair amount of time directing boxes and telling boys where to find important tools. And of course I claimed a share of the traditional moving-in beer. Yum.
For the next few hours we all unpacked and assembled various items until the house began to resemble an actual human habitation. Miri left to meet Asana. Exodus, Stacy and St. Stephen all showed up during this phase, and were shown around our spacious new aerie. St. Stephen seemed relieved that we did not, in fact, save the desk for him - although there was talk along the lines of capriciously making him move the desk from room to room.
"When did I propose to Scout?""At Barberian's."
"Oh, I just proposed to her because I wanted Q's meat. Um, that didn't come out right."
- dirk reminisces about meat
The traditional moving-in pizza arrived in short order, and we all had a good time inhaling pizza and spilling pop everywhere. Stacy & Dirk studiously ignored each other for hours while we played Chez Geek ("one game is never enough; two games are way too fucking many.") And then everyone but Exodus went home. They were all too tired for the wrap-up party at the end of Move-apalooza 2002.
Oh, the party. Now: where were we all two years ago? When did the Boy ask me to marry him? The answer to both involved DJ Shannon and the best retro this side of heaven. And as Move-apalooza 2002 wrapped up on a Monday, what better way to celebrate our anniversary than to get down and boogie to "White Wedding"?
It was a fantastic night. Ian, Miri & Asana showed up, as did The Guy Who Never Remembers My Name ("FOR GOD'S SAKE J---!!! PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON!!!"). Shannon was in a lovely mood and played "Charlotte Sometimes" for me without waiting for the request (she strongly associates the song with me, although I don't think I request it any more than, say, "Release the Bats"). Somehow "Closer" has worked its way into the retro line-up, and dancing to it made me request some real industrial. "Headhunter" and "Smothered Hope" thoroughly disproved my optimistic idea that I had any dancing stamina after 2 years of living in goth-alterna hell. There was also a fight, free drinks, a pretty girl who hit on me and a ridiculously overdressed goth girl who skipped and paced through the dancers in lieu of actually dancing. She walked the floor in her long black veil, creating puzzled looks from those of us who aren't used to this sort of thing any more. We left covered in sweat and glory.
Yes, a very good anniversary...
2 years ago today: I GOT MARRIED! (duh)
