It seems I have mostly recovered from whatever the hell it was I had. I do feel more fatigued than usual and I am still having the occasional coughing fit, but I’m at least at a functional level. Naturally, when I finally did go see the doctor last week, he told me there was nothing he could do and I’d just have to tough it out. Very helpful. I did at least get a checkup and some blood tests done and he suspects that I have sleep apnea. I find this entirely plausible.
Much of the last three days were taken up with various festivities surrounding the great Tynes-Scott wedding of ’06. Saturday was an afternoon out at the Six Arms with various guests, Sunday was the wedding itself, and last night we got a last minute invite to a Buca di Beppo outing with Jenny’s family. If one defines richness by the quality of one’s friends and family, John and Jenny are wealthy indeed. I had a chance to catch up with a lot of folks I do not see very often and meet a bunch of other attendees at the various events. This was all to the good.
The wedding itself was lovely. It took place in an old Seattle mansion, which while a bit small for the number of people had charm to spare. The food was excellent (big ups for the like “buttah” roast beef and the cheese course) and the band was a million times better than your typical wedding group. I was flagging towards the end, but that was no reflection on the event.
Last night at Buca I found myself sitting next to Johnny, the boyfriend of Holly, one of Jenny’s many sisters (seriously, that girl has a lot of sisters). I had seen him over the past couple of days, noted the anarchy tattoo on his hand, but hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. Turns out he and Holly live in Boston (my hometown) and he’s an old punk like me. We then spent about an hour having an in-depth discussion about punk rock so arcane that I think it left most of the table bewildered. Several people then commented, “I knew you two should talk.” Funny.
Hopefully, this week will see an end to the lingering effects of the GTS plague. Next time I get laid low in Vegas, I better have a lot more fun doing it.