Alan, Angela and Aleister

Here are pictures of Alan and me, Angela and me and Angela, me and Aleister. How is it that all three of these people's names begin with the letter A? It can not, of course, be significant in the least, but still.....well, it's just one of those
things. Aleister is young, Angela is what "they" call beginning-middle-aged and Alan and I are hitting the early-elderly wall, although we don't see it that way. Why, Aleister told Alan that he, Alan, looks to be in his forties - and he told me I look fifty-seven. I tried to get him to lower his estimation of my age just a little bit more and I managed to bring him down to fifty-two but he would go no lower. If I remember correctly, Aleister used to be sweeter.

Before he could speak.

Alan is my future husband. We've set the date for September 24rth, hopefully at the Unitarian Fellowship, which is a beautiful place, surrounded by trees. The wedding could be indoors or outdoors and you can all be invited, if you are good. If I don't die in New York, where Alan is taking me this coming May, I will be at the wedding as the bride. I am afraid of New York, mostly because of the movies, which, despite Woody Allen's brave attempts, have not done New York any favors. I would feel much better if I could be followed around by Woody Allen's fabulous background music....perhaps Alan could arrange that. Alan, who is from the Jersey Shore and no, he doesn't watch that TV show, in fact, he detests that TV show, although he has never actually sat down and, God forbid, watched it, is equally familiar with New York, swears I will love it. The cheesecake. The bagels. The pizza. Central Park. The Metropolitan museum. Broadway plays. And all I can think of is all the weight I will gain and what shoes will I wear? I, who have never been in a larger city than Seattle (well, I was in Chicago once, but my father drove as fast as he could and kept yelling at my mother to "Lock and duck! Lock and duck!") so I didn't really get a good feel for the place.....have a basic inbred fear of large cities. Seattle and Portland are large enough for me. I am not a big city girl. I am a small-town-with-a-good-book-store type of girl. I'm plenty neurotic, but I don't think I am neurotic enough for a huge place like New York.

On the other hand,I don't blend well. I want to be the center of attention. I don't want somebody dribbling mustard of my hot dog. What if somebody mistakenly dribbles mustard on my hot dog? What if I get mugged on the subway? What if Alan loses me? What if I wrench my neck by gawkingup at all the skyscrapers? What if I wear the wrong thing? What if what if what if what if............

Wild horses couldn't keep me from going to New York. Wild horses couldn't keep me from visiting Alan's friends in Jersey. I wanna see, I wanna see, I wanna see. I'm see I'll see Robert De Nero bopping down the street. I know I'll see Anna Winotaur dashing into the lobby of some chic building. I'll follow her. She'll take a look at me in one of my LOGGER'S DAUGHTER skirts, grab me by the arm and photograph me for Vogue. How can she not? Of course she will. Oh my God! And I can't wait to meet Alan's sister Fran and Fran's husband Leo who comes from the same area as Neil Simon and Woody Allen and is therefore hysterically funny, not to mention Alan's Jersey guy friends, all of whom have Jersey mouths on them. Can't wait. Can not wait. Can't wait to walk through Central Park with.....can't wait to see a Broadway play with........can't wait to eat New York pizza with.......can't wait to do ANYTHING with......because he is so likable. Know what I mean? He is just so .....likable! But he's not a pushover, not by any means. So listen here, you crazy-ass New York subway guys, don't f___k with Alan Schein, because, like Aleister says, "He's forty years old and he rocks bigtime!"

Look out, New York! The Schein Man is comin' home.
I'll be the short woman hiding behind the slice of pizza.