The Return of Propeller Boy, and 10 Years In

PropellerBoyandpics
Originally uploaded by TeamReed

Ten years ago as Jeff and I were unwrapping the last of our wedding gifts, we came across three presents from people we didn’t know. We’d had cleverly disguised gifts from other friends – a set of cook wear wrapped in paper designed with frogs, for example – but had no idea who had sent us a crocheted toilet paper cover, a doorstop goose and a hand-painted ceramic statue who came to be known as Propeller Boy.

Turned out it was our friend Ed Kaufman playing a little trick while unloading some unwanted family heirlooms. Five years after that, Ed bought a new house and his housewarming gifts included Propeller Boy. So when he approached Jeff at work last week bearing an anniversary gift, the gag was up before the wrapping fell away. Somehow I think PB will find his way back home again…

(Just to be silly, I added a few pics from 2-14-98. They're on your right. It's a small sampling to either take you back or join me in regretting that we didn't know you yet, for you surely would have been with us that day.)

We had a great VD lunch with Bob and Kathy Johnson. Bob was gracious enough to put aside his nerves, become judge for the day and officially send us into the bonds of wedded bliss. B&K threw us a great engagement party, too. For last week’s occasion, they presented us with a print they’d found in NYC a year ago that reminded them of us. (In addition to being absentminded, they’re shop-a-holics. We haven’t encouraged them to get cured because we like it when we benefit from their affliction.)

Some people go to Paris for milestone anniversaries. Some have elaborate parties. Others inexplicably follow that Hallmark rule and actually give each other gifts of tin and aluminum. We stayed home.

With Alison on a two-day bender with Helen, we had the place to ourselves, and I just couldn’t justify the expense, time and trouble it would have entailed to leave the state. We’d opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for dinner with Ali on Valentine’s Day proper. She drank her water from a champagne glass and we clinked glasses all night before descending to the family room for another game of Monopoly. We’d given Ali some Valentine Littlest Pet Shops and they were anxious to play. I discovered that the game is vastly improved when combined with champagne. And at the time, the Veuve was among my favorite champagnes.

Friday, after saying "So long!" to Ali, we uncorked that bottle of Dom Perignon we bought two years ago at a Kahn’s champagne tasting and paired it with our reception fare: King Rib and cheesecake. It was just like our reception back on 2-14-98. Except we had incredible champagne, I wasn’t wearing white and we didn’t have a couple hundred of our closest friends with us.

Somehow we managed to have fun – although we did reminisce about that day, how much fun it was and how lucky we were to have had such a great time – and to have it memorialized by our favorite photographer, David Cowan. (I scanned some of your shots, David: don't sue me.)

And now a word about the champagne: I was too cheap to go out of town, but was happy to sip some of the most expensive champagne you can buy. Here’s my justification: the stuff is crazy good. And apparently (based on Jeff’s long discussion with his favorite wine consultant – yes, they exist and Jeff found one who’s invited us over to dinner. I think he’s reeling Jeff in slowly and I’m trying to find a way to snip the line before the net comes out – who said 1998 (our bottle’s born-on date) was one of the best years for the bubbly. It was a good year…

Last night, we went to Sullivan’s Steakhouse and had an amazing meal, and then we just hung out again. The whole weekend has been great. It was just like when we were dating, but more fun in a way – no exes or wannabes hanging around looking for an opening; no worries about whether it would really work out; no anxiety over where we’d both end up at the end of the night, etc...

In short, and to spare you any other details of how else we celebrated (You’re welcome, Jen.) we had a great weekend. The birds are hoarse from all their singing. (You’re welcome, Amer.)

Ali’s weekend

Our friend John Vielee has many things in common with Jeff Reed. He’s a disciplinarian but a softie underneath and one of those people you would trust your life to. He and Lisa were in charge of Alison and Helen for most of the weekend. Their other children were with other parental units. At one point, Lisa had made turkey sandwiches for lunch and John was convincing Alison that she should try some of the turkey, in addition to the bread. Alison had already explained that she didn’t like turkey, but, gamer that she is, she bowed to John's wishes and downed the turkey. And then promptly threw it up.

“She really doesn’t like turkey” he said later.

On the way to the China Buffet for potstickers, Helen and Ali got to talking about Helen getting her ears pierced. She has to wait until she’s 7, and she’ll have to agree to keep her ears clean once she has the jewelry. Someone offered up that if she’s going to wear earrings, Helen would probably have to start wearing makeup, too. Alison who has no interest in getting holes poked anywhere on her body and only a passing interest in make-up may have tried to dissuade Helen from growing up too fast.

“Yeah, my mom has to wear 13 layers of makeup to keep her ears clean,” Ali confided.

I’m off to catch up on all the housework I ignored earlier in the week. Cheers!