Weekend of Red

We headed out on Thursday to San Antonio, Texas. My sister and law and her husband, a doctor with the Army, moved there (or, rather, were summoned there) last June; about a month ago, he was sent to Iraq. Rather unsettling, that. It's weird to IM him and get a message like "Sorry, had to get my uniform. Due to the...incident"--and then have to wait three days to find out about said incident on CNN.

In a report whose name I don't know but that has been named "The Greatest Army Study In The History of All Armies Ever" by my family, it was determined that doctors in certain specialties can lose their skillsets if they're away for too long, so my b-i-l's stay has been shortened from fifteen months to five. Makes the long term prognosis better, but short term it still stinks for my s-i-l and her three year old.

So off we headed, to Fiesta, which is a pretty amazing city-wide celebration (like banks and schools are closed), which stages every spring.

It takes a weekend with my fiery red-headed s-i-l to remember about being fearless, living in the now, and taking crap from no one. Upsides to all. She's amazing.

Unfortunately, I spent a good chunk of the weekend working/fretting over my event tonight. But when I wasn't buried in my laptop counting and analyzing rsvps and doing press outreach, there were German fests (the town has a huge German population, evident in the amazing craftsmanship of their historic homes and the quality of bratwurst), craft fairs, parades, and pageants. An overall great time, even with a boatload of work.

After an afternoon at the King William Fair downtown, I was heading down St. Alamo with mom and s-i-l when another redhead--this one, a medium-sized redheaded male--made eye contact with us and purred, "Hello, ladies." About 10 paces away, my s-i-l looked back and said, "Hey, wasn't that David Caruso? From that CSI show?" I had glanced at his shoes after the greeting, which were fairly crappy. My verdict: definitely not, no famous person would wear those. Unsure, my m-i-l looked back and was positive it was him.

We were heading to a party at a friend of s-i-l's. There were about 15 people there total. And about 10 seconds behind us in walked the redhead with wife and child in tow. Even when he extended his hand and said "Hi, I'm David," I still wasn't sure. He looked more wrinkly and shorter than on camera, but not as wrinkly and heinous as he's made out to be. Definite eye job. Then I spotted his wife's humongous, fabulous, studded Gucci bag--then I was sure it was him (turns out his wife is from S.A.). His kid: COMPLETELY adorable 19-month old infatuated with the fountain in the yard at the party.

We headed home so we could see the kids and I could go back to frettingfrettingfretting, counting rsvps, looking ahead to the next two events, getting press releases out for retainer clients...that's the thig about being in business for yourself: it never stops. One screwup and it could be your last.

My son and nephew are only 6 weeks apart--and it's a nonstop adventure when they're together. From the moment they met (my nephew came from Russia when he was 1), they developed a bond unlike anything I've ever seen. They rarely fight, always share, and love to hug.

It was painful to leave, knowing how much work it is to have a 3-year old, nevermind raising one alone for the time being, knowing how lonely she must be with no family there. But fiery redhead that she is, she plunders on with a smile (or a condescending smirk if it's deserved).

In the airport back in DC, I passed my final redhead of the weekend: Dick Gephardt, driver in tow, looking much more handsome in person, dressed pretty casually.

Now off to 3 events in 10 days!