1:30 pm
Plane
On my way home from the Big Vegas Weekend.
It was a damned fun time, not long enough. Just a whirlwind trip this time. Then again, I guess they ALL are.
It didn't quite end up like that movie The Hangover, ha ha. No tigers in the bathroom or naked Chinese dudes jumping out of car trunks (Thank God). And I remember pretty much everything I did. Mostly. Some of it's a little fuzzy.
My Wife is amazing. She really pulled off one Hell of a Bachelor Party. Low-key enough that everybody had a good time, sneaky enough that nobody even knew I was there. That was cool. Cate's devious mind for deception really served her well... the costume idea was genius. Plus it was damned funny. The rest of the Guys had a blast.
Though I'm a little offended that Cate said Danny filled out that spandex better than I did back in the day. Hey, I can't help it I was a skinny little fuck! Danny's a former Navy Fucking SEAL, or whatever the Hell the Air Force's sneaky black ops people are called. His muscles have their own muscles, for Christ's sake.
He could probably kill me with his pinky.
Besides, Cate doesn't have any complaints about how I fill out my pants these days, heh heh.
The wedding was beautiful. They had it in the chapel at the Bellagio. Danny was grinning ear-to-ear the entire time, and Charity was just stunning. It was short, simple, elegant. Just an exchange of rings and vows. Cate was a fantastic Best Man, and I did my part too. I played piano and sang for the Happy Couple. Least I could do.
I hope they'll have a long and happy marriage. It's the second for both of them, so they know how life goes. I think that will make them stronger, more understanding. More appreciative of each other.
You don't get many second chances in life. When you're lucky enough to get a second chance at love, you don't wanna fuck up. Somehow your second time around is more precious. It makes you realize just how lucky you really are.
Trust me. I'm living proof.
11:30 pm
Hamptons House
Back on the East Coast, smack in the middle of chaos. Got a houseful of kids and friends and wives and ex-wives and parents...
Is it too late to catch the red-eye back to Vegas?
Nah, feels good to be home. Big doin's tomorrow -- Stephie's party. My Baby Girl. 18 years old.
Grown up.
Well, she's not technically 18 until Tuesday... and I'm gonna hang onto these last few precious minutes with both hands and all of my heart. I blinked and suddenly my Baby's a woman.
I'm not ready for this.
Tomorrow morning we're going into the Village for breakfast, just Steph and me. Gonna have a little quiet Daddy-Daughter time, like we used to when she was little and I was home from the road. We don't do that enough anymore.
When I'm finally home from Europe this summer I'll only have a few weeks with her before we'll be packing up all her stuff in a U-Haul and moving her off to college. Then I'll be the one counting the days until she comes home so I can see her again.
The irony's not lost on me.
But this week is all about My Princess. Her party tomorrow, her birthday Tuesday, Prom Wednesday night, the Big Day on Friday. She's done with classes; she did great on her orals last week. All the tests are done and the papers graded. Now it's just the ceremonies and parties and celebrations.
I've missed so much of her life, the plays and recitals and games and ceremonies.... but this week I'm here. Whatever she wants from me, I'm hers.
This week I'm just Daddy.
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