sometimes, i love my community of friends.

after spending over an hour getting everything set up for the wedding -- tables arranged indoors, chairs all arranged outdoors, everything set for where people will be standing, where people will walk, how everything will work out ...

and then suddenly there's thunder and lightning and with a few yells suddenly everyone is in motion and moving and working and it couldn't have taken more than 3 minutes before 90 percent of the people and chairs were moved indoors and the tables moved to the sides and it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes before we were all set for the wedding with new seating arrangements safely indoors and a new plan and everyone (with the exception of some *very* helpful volunteers) safe and dry. and then it was a wedding!

and my god, the happy couple looked *so* in love.

also, oh my god.

i've often had the chance to drink liquor older than i am. i have a bottle of whiskey that was born the same year i was, and i was born in november, so i figure the chances are good that it's older than me by at least a bit.

but oh my god. someone (and i never heard who -- for all i know it might've been anonymous) donated a bottle of port to the festivities yesterday. it was bottled in 1926. NINETEEN TWENTY SIX.

that's older than my parents!

and oh god, it was the most amazing tasting liquor i've ever had. velvet is not that smooth. silk is not that smooth. wow.

interesting creative thing.

so, i took a plain lightswitch cover plate and some nice paper from the papersource (i think i was originally going to use the paper as backing for the slightly-too-small-for-the-frame postcards in the Shrine to Pulp Entertainment on the stairway in my apartment)

and i used some plain glue to glue the paper to the plate and pokes holes for the plate screws and let it dry. then i cut out for the switch itself and put two coats of polyurethane on it.

it looks really cool. although i think maybe i should use satin or semi-gloss rather than high gloss next time i do this.