- Has anyone gotten married recently? It does seem like the enormous number of journalists and wanna-be journalists who covered the Amal Alamuddin- George Clooney wedding festivities has devoted the kind of space — both in print and in the ether that usually attends a presidential election or inauguration. The wardrobe changes! The toasts! The celebrity guests! The money! The show!
There’s nothing wrong with it. No one’s forcing you to read about it. You can pass by the wedding stories and focus on the new case of Ebola, or the latest school shooting, or the ISIS-ISIL madness. Maybe we all need to read about the wedding in Venice. Maybe there’s no amount of overkill for this couple. Maybe they prove once and for all that love is possible during these awfully bad-news-filled-days.
Is love in the air?
Is fear in the air?
Is that weed I smell in the air?
(The answer to all those questions is yes.) Although recreational marijuana is not legal in my city, I smell it everywhere. People smoke it on the street — on our street, frequently. My daughter, Exhibit C can smell it through her skylight. No one is shy about it, no one looks furtive. It just is all around. I read an article in Vogue about cooking with marijuana.
Duh, it’s so obviously the next new thing. I haven’t read about them, but I will assume there are pot-themed restaurants in the great states of Colorado and Washington. We used to have La Crepe and Mme. Romaine de Lyon in NYC, the former was a crepe restaurant, not surprisingly; the latter was just for omelettes.
I imagine that whoever deemed kale and quinoa to be America’s Diet is working on imaginative ways to put cannabis in our diets next. At the juice bar? In the salad bar?
The fear and love have a less obvious scent.
Meanwhile, the news is horrible. Ebola, ISIS, beheadings, random acts of profound violence, territorial wars, religious wars, unregistered guns, and unemployment in large numbers.
To paraphrase the old commercial, “What’s a mother to do?”
But I don’t want to leave you bewildered or sad. That’s not why I wrote this.
So look at the happy pictures. Revel in the excess. Ta ta for now.