March 22nd, 2008

Voguegirl

Boston Marriage

We're just back from five days in Boston. Wall-to-wall people, which is what happens when you return to old haunts. We had dinner with friends (one of them vintage 1973--practically family), then accompanied them to a production of The Tempest at the Cambridge Multicultural Arts Center, where Ellen and I were extra-legally married in '96.

The production--by the Actor's Shakespeare Project--was wonderful. They dressed it as a 19th century magic show, with top hats and morning coats and jolly tar outfits for the sailors. Alvin Epstein was Prospero--a gentle, fragile, Merlin-in-The Sword in the Stone kind of Prospero. When he said "My every third thought shall be of death," you believed him. And the Miranda was actually interesting. She played her very young and very wild and untutored, but smart. Ariel was a woman, dressed as a magician's assistant--top hat, sparkly vest, fishnet stockings, little ankle boots. Cooler than usual, and very, very busy orchestrating each and every scene. It wasn't the definitive Tempest, but it was delightful. And very funny--the three clowns acted their socks off, and were hilarious. Especially Trinculo.

We saw The Spiderwick Chronicles, too, with our favorite Boston children. They were freaked out by the goblins (in a good way) and really liked Mallory and the boy playing Simon/Jared. Me, too. I thought the script did a good job of stuffing six books into one movie while actually making sense and not being stupid--although the end was a little Hollywood-sentimental for my tastes.

And then there was the wedding.

Ellen's known Steve and Don almost since she moved to Boston, and I met them not long after she and I got together. We've had several Thanksgivings at their house, and even more Rosh Hashana dinners and Passover seders, where we met a number of their friends, some of whom have become our friends, too. So we had plenty of people to talk to.

The wedding was held in a remarkable building. As far as I understand, it was designed by a young architect who was once a street kid in South Boston, but got taken under the wing of this artist when he was a teenager. It houses a non-profit (founded by the original artist) that encourages artistic kids and gives them a place to paint and write and dance and act, right in the middle of one of Boston's dicier neighborhoods. The building itself is totally Green--low-enegy, low-impact, recycled, efficient, and very cool indeed. I particularly liked the recycled windshields around the mezzanine railing, which gave the hall an oddly beaux-arts feel.

Steve and Don got married on their 20th anniversary. Steve's son, who is a rabbinical student, conducted the ceremony. His date (rumor had it, his future fiancee) who is in cantorial school, sang the prayers. Steve's 3 other kids and their respective spouses stood under the chuppah and read the English translations of the blessings and prayers. The oldest grandson (3) brought the rings. There wasn't a dry eye in the house.

And the flowers! OMG. Orchids and anemonies and roses and tulips for days. The food was wonderful--sashimi and many vegetables and roast lamb and a selection of decadent desserts. And the grooms' silver-grey silk jackets with black silk trim? Striking without being tacky, especially over black t-shirts.

When everybody had eaten everything that could be eaten, we all danced and danced (including Steve's not-all-that-young mother) for several hours, and then we went back to the hotel and collapsed.

And now we're back home, having trouble with our wireless network and back to pirating a signal from neighbors. We'll deal tomorrow.
TUH Dreadful

Can I just say. . .

that Chapter Twelve is Dreadful? I've pinned it here and I've pinned it there, and there's no pleasing it. It keeps throwing out paragraphs like pseudopods. Whenever I think I've got it surrounded, I find a sentence dangling, or that I've left out an important plot-point. And my sentence-maker seems to be on the fritz.

Ah, well. Maybe I'll have a brain tomorrow.