Reflections on a Wedding

 At this very moment, Jonathan and Caroline are at Atlanta Hartsfield Airport waiting to board a flight for their honeymoon trip to London and Paris, and in honor of this I will (finally) write about their beautiful wedding last November.

It was a wedding that, in many ways, was nurtured during two back-to-back family weddings when Caroline was introduced to our entire family all at once—siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends. And she held her own with kindness and grace; in fact, at the end of that first family wedding (Nicholas and Lauren’s) my brother came up to me and said, “Okay. Can I tell you how much we love Caroline? Jonathan had better hold on to her!”

I should also mention that Caroline and I roomed together at both those back-to-back family weddings, and what better way to get to know someone than when sharing a room and talking late into the night? I already had one great daughter-in-law and, in my heart, I knew one day (hopefully soon!) I would be getting another one with Caroline.

So, my brother’s words were prophetic because we all loved Caroline and, indeed, Jonathan did hold on to her. Good job, Jono!

Which brings us to the wedding.

And this is where words fail me. Because how can words, lined up in neat rows, sentence after sentence and paragraph after paragraph, even begin to convey the myriad of emotions? It is like standing on the seashore and trying to capture a wave even as the next one comes rolling in.

Where to even begin? At the rehearsal dinner where the toasts had us simultaneously laughing and crying, or earlier in the day with the bridal tea at Dr. Bombay’s Underwater Tea Party? Or should I start with the sight of my son standing on the altar, looking handsome and grown up as he watched Caroline walk down the aisle? Or maybe I could begin with Monsignor’s homily, addressed directly to the couple, after which he gave them a bible with instructions to highlight all the readings they had chosen for their nuptial Mass and to use them as a blueprint for the rest of their lives?

How can words describe the sweetness of groomsmen, with boutonnieres in hand, waiting in line to have them pinned on? Or the quiet whispers of Caroline’s dress as her bridesmaids helped her get ready, and the shuffling of feet and murmuring of voices as guests began to arrive? How to describe the brilliant blue sky that seemed to sing Hosanna as we exited the church?

How can the three little letters in “joy” be sufficient to describe the exuberance of the guests dancing, or of Jonathan’s smile as he twirled his new bride across the dance floor? Or of all the guests singing along to “Sweet Caroline” during the father-daughter dance?

And the laughter, champagne bubbly, how to describe that? Or the magic of descending into a ballroom festooned with blue and white, accented with hints of gold and sprinkled with greenery, all magical and fairy-like. Or the love of the new couple, holding hands as they walked through an archway of sparklers to a future together as man and wife.

Words are too confining, so I will let the photos convey what I cannot.

Jonathan & Caroline

November 4, 2023

church rehearsal the night before

Cathedral of Christ the King, Atlanta

front doors of church

Caroline, getting ready

Caroline with her bridesmaids

jonathan getting ready

great buddies, great groomsmen

Caroline and her mother, Julie

almost time

in the church courtyard

finishing touches

my son, all grown up

waiting in line for boutonniere pinning

Caroline and her father, Ed

welcoming the couple

the blessing and exchange of vows

introducing Mr. and Mrs. Novajosky

newly married

Nicholas and Lauren

the wedding party

sweet couple

Caroline and her lovely bridesmaids

Jonathan and his handsome groomsmen

Nicholas and Lauren

Jonathan and Timothy

parents of the groom!

beautiful weather for a beautiful day

love

The Wimbish House

the reception

first dance

"This Night" by Billy Joel

oh the joy!

who knew our son could dance?

father-daughter dance

"Sweet Caroline" by Neil Diamond

mother-son dance

"Downstream" by Supertramp

speeches

the wedding cake

Lauren

dancing the night away

Joe, breaking out the moves

dancing, dancing, dancing

and even more dancing

all the smiles

Timothy and Jonathan

our family is growing!

blessings

a sparkly exit

Mr. and Mrs. Novajosky

Masters Bounty 2024

Here is our annual report on what our Masters guests left us!

Last year was exciting because a professional golfer and his family rented our home. In fact, this same golfer was one of the golfers featured on Netflix’s 2024 season of Full Swing. Not only did we get a lot of autographed swag, but we found out that Netflix actually filmed scenes in our house. Note, these scenes did NOT make the final cut because we watched all episodes of Full Swing and did not see our house. Bummer. But somewhere in Video Land are scenes of the Novajosky house.

Anyway, this year the same golfer reached out to rent our home again, but it was late in the season and we had already rented to a group from Texas. Corporate guys, who did not cook or entertain, but who stayed at the course all day long. They ate out, even breakfast, and did not use so much as a coffee cup.

So, not only did we return to an immaculate home, but also one in which there were no leftover goodies as in past years. No Grey Goose Vodka. No Woodford Reserve Bourbon. No porterhouse steaks. No autographed golf balls or hats.

Just a clean house and 18 bottles of water.

Nine Miles on a (mostly) Sunny Day

Today, our last day in Washington DC, we woke up to blue skies and sunshine. I left my favorite raincoat and floral, upside-down umbrella at the hotel and headed back downtown to visit … no, not the National Gallery of Art … but the Hirshhorn Museum.

Never heard of it? I hadn’t either. I did not even realize it was part of the Smithsonian, but I kept passing it walking to and from L’Enfante Plaza Metro stop and decided to check it out. What an AWESOME art museum of contemporary and modern art. The entire building is a circular in shape and each room flows neatly into the next. I saw works by John Singer Sargent, Max Ernst, Joan Miro’, and Georgia O’ Keeffe. My favorite installation was by Laurie Anderson, a multimedia artist. In 2021 the Hirshhorn invited Anderson to create a work on site, and over a period of two weeks she painted directly on the floors and walls of a large gallery. Using a stream-of-consciousness manner (and no preparatory sketches) she covered every inch with drawings, stories, song lyrics, poems, quotations, jokes, and commentary on current events. The installation’s title, Four Talks, refers to the four objects she included in the room—a raven, a parrot, a canoe, and a shelf. It was like walking around in her mind. So fascinating!

Switching gears, I then visited the Holocaust Memorial Museum. On my last two visits to Washington DC tickets were always sold out, but this morning I went online and managed to secure a timed entry ticket for mid-morning. You know how I mentioned the beautiful weather? That was a blessing because after spending almost three hours revisiting the horrors of the Holocaust, I needed sunshine, blue skies, fresh air, and smiley people. It is an intense museum, sad and horrifying and sobering, but one everyone should visit at least once.

After that museum I decided NO MORE MUSEUMS! Instead, I walked around the Smithsonian Castle, then to the Washington Monument, the WWII Memorial, and the Lincoln Memorial which—darn it!—was under renovation and Lincoln was covered up. I walked back up the mall toward the Capitol. Evidently, I do not listen to myself because I popped into the American History Museum just to see the Star-Spangled Banner (always, always impressive) and back to the Hirshhorn Museum to visit the gift shop.

Since I had walked almost 9 miles, I had planned to order a cappuccino and sit quietly in the Hirshhorn Sculpture Garden to wait for Joe so we could commute back to the hotel together. BUT. Remember that gorgeous weather? All of a sudden—POOF!—it disappeared. Away went the sun, in came the clouds, and rain was imminent. Guess who did not have her favorite umbrella and floral, upside-down umbrella?

So I ran to the Metro stop and hopped on a train just as the rain arrived. It seems fitting that our time ended as it began ... with rain. 

But, oh, do I love Washington DC. Until next time!

Metro Rain

This morning, we woke up to weather worse than had been predicted. The rain was torrential, the winds were blustery, the skies were ominous … and yet, I donned my favorite raincoat and grabbed my giant upside-down floral umbrella (technically an inverted umbrella) and walked to the metro station. I smiled the entire time. What an adventure! Walking in the rain! Splashing through puddles!

Thirty minutes later I had the distinct honor of being the very first patron to enter the National Gallery of Art.

Today I began in the East Building which houses modern and contemporary art. It is interesting going from Renaissance masters of Giotto, Da Vinci, and Titian to more contemporary artists such as Picasso, Cezanne, and Miro’. While yesterday was all about beauty and emotion, today was more analysis than emotion, like I had to work a little harder to understand what the artist was trying to convey. But that is just my opinion and we are all art critics. Yes?

At one point I was standing in front of a Jackson Pollack painting, Number One, 1950 (Lavendar Mist). I was THINKING about it, but not getting anywhere. But then a security guard approached and, using a tiny flashlight, showed me some hidden secrets of the painting: a raisin and a roach, both of which Pollack just painted right over. So, thanks to the nice security guard (and a raisin and a roach) I was illuminated.

But I have to say, modern and contemporary art can be fun (“Yellow Nana”), or interactive (in which you become part of the artwork), or leave you wondering how this could even be called art (“Condensation Wall” which was basically a large acrylic cube with distilled water dripping down, or “Glass Case with Pies” which was a rack of pies, just like you would see in any diner across America).

Pat Steir

Curtain Waterfall, 1991

By the afternoon I was back in the West Building for another tour of European art, during which I met some people from Italy. Right there in front of a Giotto painting … how cool was that?

Unfortunately, by late afternoon it was STILL pouring when I exited the museum, but undeterred I slogged through the adjacent sculpture garden because … what an adventure! Walking in the rain! Splashing through puddles!

That is, until the thunder and lightning and then I hightailed it to the metro station. On the ride home took this photo which I entitled: 

Metro Rain, M. Novajosky, 2024

Raining Cherry Blossoms

Today, it rained cherry blossoms.

We are in Washington DC for the week and, yes, it is cherry blossom time in our nation’s capital. But the trees that were in full bloom last week have, this week, been subjected to gusty winds and drenching rains which is why it has been raining petals.

But you know what? Despite the rain, the gusty winds, the falling petals, and the cold temperatures … I am in Washington DC!

My plans for this week are this: since Joe is working (today at the Pentagon) and my usual travel companion (he-who-hates-art-museums) is at UGA, I am visiting all the art museums. By myself. When does this ever happen? And I have three days to get it all in!

So, today I spent the ENTIRE day at the Smithsonian’s National Gallery of Art. I explored the West Building (European art), took a guided tour of Italian Renaissance art, read the placards, took notes, and had a lovely lunch in the museum café.  I walked over 14,777 steps through the galleries (including to and from our metro stop).

And here is the crazy part. I am going back tomorrow. I want to revisit a couple of the galleries and take a guided tour of Dutch art. Also, I still have to explore the East Building (modern and contemporary art) and the sculpture garden ... the latter with an umbrella because the forecast is calling for 90% chance of raining cherry blossoms. 

Ordinary Days

Buona Pasqua, everyone! After a Lenten social media fast, I am back.

When I decided to step away for a while I had hoped to use this time for creativity and writing projects, but having now emerged on the other side I can honestly say the exact opposite happened: no creativity, no writing. Oh, I kept a running list of writing prompts, and I added a few bad poems to my files of very bad poetry, but serious writing? It did not happen.

So what, you ask, did I do during this time?

I lived wholly and completely in the moment, embracing the Ordinary Days of working at Angevines, cooking wholesome meals, and baking bread. Joe and I watched The Chosen series. I took long walks along the canal, hosted Book Club, and did a lot of spring cleaning—purged closets, relined kitchen shelves, washed baseboards, and reorganized our pantry. I prayed daily, sometimes by the light of candle in the darkness before dawn, and sometimes while I was dusting a ceiling fan or making a grocery list. I read a lot of books and listened to John Denver songs.

Ordinary Days. Nothing earth-shattering. No spiritual awakening or dramatic transformation.

There were times when I felt guilty about not writing, about not doing more, and I worried that I was using routine and simplicity as an escape. But here is the truth: I relished the quiet and peace of those Ordinary Days. I found spiritual sustenance in quiet moments and peace in mundane tasks. 

To be sure, now that I have disclosed all this I need to backtrack because in the midst of those Ordinary Days we flew to San Francisco due to a perfect storm of Timothy’s spring break and a work trip for Joe. For three non-Ordinary Days, while Joe did engineering stuff, Timothy and I hiked Muir Woods, walked over the Golden Gate Bridge, and hopped on and off cable cars while exploring the city.  A little extraordinary in what was mostly an ordinary time. 

Here was my takeaway this Lent: Life does not always have be about something; sometimes, it just is. Life does not always mean searching for the next great entertainment; after all, a sunset is offered every evening. And we do not always have to be doing something meaningful, or grand.

 Because sometimes, cleaning out a closet is important, too.