femkes_follies (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
femkes_follies) wrote2007-08-04 11:58 pm
femkes_follies) wrote2007-08-04 11:58 pm
Night for Nostalgia
Since my boss is wallowing in "me world" (Seems to be a lot of that going around lately), and has screwed me over for the weekend, I found myself rather at loose ends. I'm NOT on call - though I've had a couple of late evening at work providing support for the new Doctor, since Boss Lady can't be bothered. But I didn't have anyone to go bother either. The family is all up North for my Grandmother's 90th birthday party. And most of our friends were either working, committed to something, or out at Pennsic. So we went to the farmer's market, got some goodies, came home for a nap (me AND Muffin both), and then went out to GR. One thing led to another and the topic of Darling going back into the Marines came up again. Which led me (on arriving home) on a trip down Memory Lane.
For anyone who doesn't know, Darling was Active Duty when we met, got engaged, and married. Since he was on Recruiting, he was reasonably close. And his Command Group was in Lansing, where I was in school. So I got to go along to the Marine Corps Ball:
Darling had to lift me into his truck, as I couldn't lift my leg high enough to get in unassisted. In my defense, it was a 4x4, with no running boards. And I liked the dress.
And I must say, I enjoyed the military wedding, with ALL the trimmings:
From a rendition of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling":
(I do hope all of those boys are OK. We haven't heard from some of them in a while)
to cutting the cake with the sword:
(Yes, that IS a tiny Marine on the cake topper)
To the famous arch:
Which is probably the most sacred of the military traditions. For those that aren't familiar, it basically constitutes a pledge to do violence to anyone attempting to harm the bride, should the groom be unavailable or unable to tend to the matter himself. I have no doubt that any one of them would make good that pledge, even now. Certainly Upham, Ryan, or Carlstrom.
Gunny Carlstrom didn't even bruise me. The traditional tap on the bride's shoulder with the last man's sword for luck has drifted downward over the decades. I fully expected he'd take advantage of the situation. Not so. Gentlemen in uniform, all of them. Look, do I look bruised?
Darling would like to take dance lessons sometime. I admit, I'd enjoy it. We looked OK, but he's got a long way to go:
Not so, Dad. He's a phenomenal dancer. And he sang. Believe it or not, I had to bring my own copy of "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" as the DJ was clueless. *face palm* Maurice Chevalier must be rolling over in his grave.
And yes, I AM the Baby. How COULD you tell?
For the first 8 months we were married, we had separate apartments. He was still stationed in Traverse City, and I was working in Spring Lake. So I got myself a kitten for company. Gossamer was a very sweet boy, and an unusual kitty. He died last year of a vaccine-induced fibrosarcoma. I still feel like I should have handled that better than I did. I'm not entirely sure I did what was best for Gos by doing a third surgery. I was sort of in denial.
Now, my little darling has a long and painful history that I won't relate here. However, I often have people tell me she looks just like me. I disagree, I think she's far prettier than ever I was. Which I'm not sure is really a good thing, long term, but I hope it doesn't hinder her too much. Still, I must concede the resemblance. Especially if you look at picture of us at the same age:
Moi:
Muffin:
Still, she seems to be coming along. And she, like her mother, likes a man inuniform armor.
For anyone who doesn't know, Darling was Active Duty when we met, got engaged, and married. Since he was on Recruiting, he was reasonably close. And his Command Group was in Lansing, where I was in school. So I got to go along to the Marine Corps Ball:
Darling had to lift me into his truck, as I couldn't lift my leg high enough to get in unassisted. In my defense, it was a 4x4, with no running boards. And I liked the dress.
And I must say, I enjoyed the military wedding, with ALL the trimmings:
From a rendition of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling":
(I do hope all of those boys are OK. We haven't heard from some of them in a while)
to cutting the cake with the sword:
(Yes, that IS a tiny Marine on the cake topper)
To the famous arch:
Which is probably the most sacred of the military traditions. For those that aren't familiar, it basically constitutes a pledge to do violence to anyone attempting to harm the bride, should the groom be unavailable or unable to tend to the matter himself. I have no doubt that any one of them would make good that pledge, even now. Certainly Upham, Ryan, or Carlstrom.
Gunny Carlstrom didn't even bruise me. The traditional tap on the bride's shoulder with the last man's sword for luck has drifted downward over the decades. I fully expected he'd take advantage of the situation. Not so. Gentlemen in uniform, all of them. Look, do I look bruised?
Darling would like to take dance lessons sometime. I admit, I'd enjoy it. We looked OK, but he's got a long way to go:
Not so, Dad. He's a phenomenal dancer. And he sang. Believe it or not, I had to bring my own copy of "Thank Heaven for Little Girls" as the DJ was clueless. *face palm* Maurice Chevalier must be rolling over in his grave.
And yes, I AM the Baby. How COULD you tell?
For the first 8 months we were married, we had separate apartments. He was still stationed in Traverse City, and I was working in Spring Lake. So I got myself a kitten for company. Gossamer was a very sweet boy, and an unusual kitty. He died last year of a vaccine-induced fibrosarcoma. I still feel like I should have handled that better than I did. I'm not entirely sure I did what was best for Gos by doing a third surgery. I was sort of in denial.
Now, my little darling has a long and painful history that I won't relate here. However, I often have people tell me she looks just like me. I disagree, I think she's far prettier than ever I was. Which I'm not sure is really a good thing, long term, but I hope it doesn't hinder her too much. Still, I must concede the resemblance. Especially if you look at picture of us at the same age:
Moi:
Muffin:
Still, she seems to be coming along. And she, like her mother, likes a man in