Saturday, July 11, 2009
Team Wedding Headquarters (TWHQ) is going dark until all the fuss on the front lawn dies down (I'm thinking tomorrow will be clear. Don't ask how I know; I just do.), what with all of the Phoenixheads gathered outside. Fortunately, the neighbors are accommodating the throng of media (four kids on bikes with cell phones, and one skeevy guy in sweatpants and a fedora), but if the crowd grows (I'm thinking the threshold is two more kids on bikes, one more sweatpant, two more fedoras, and/or TMZ. Whichever comes first.), there's no telling what might happen. Maybe breaking the press line to put a note from the Homeowners' Association in our mailbox. Maybe a livefeed interview. It could go either way. TWHQ is stocked up with Gatorade, Snapple, watermelon, tomatoes, and Cheetos; People, Real Simple, and library books are stacked beside the couch; NCAA Football is queued up in the PS2, and the remote control is doing a fine job of selecting OnDemand programming. Nurse Tilly is on her back, feet in the air, under the fan, so she can be fresh if she needs to go out and read her prepared statement. She doesn't seem too concerned, however. And neither am I. Because when I set my mind to it, not much of anything can penetrate the bubble I build around TWHQ.
Posted by CCW at 11:24 AM