Impending doom is the best way to describe it I suppose. It's odd, since I am a Big Time Optimist from way back. It's possible that cynicism and realism are creeping into my psyche as I age, poisoning my purely Picses character. Bummer.

Things on the employment scene are depressing, but that's nothing new. All manner of clandestine meetings are taking place by the water cooler and the photocopier. Whispering makes me crazy; I get very angry at the lack of manners. Either that, or I get paranoid I'm at the center of some malicious plot to eject me from my already tenuous contract position here at the college. Not that that necessarily would be a bad thing. These days, all I want to do is gouge out my eyes with a plastic butter knife anyhow.

My friend Sarah got married to Mike the Fabulous last August in San Francisco. In order to compensate for all of us who could not attend, they held another reception last weekend. We got to see her in her dress, toast the happy couple and I got the pleasure of getting an 'updo' for the occasion. It's not often I get the opportunity to get all dressy-dress for something, and I take full advantage. Honestly, I'm a tomboy at heart, but it's nice to opt for hose and heels once in a blue moon.

Sarah is the little sister of Lisa, one of my oldest friends. I've known some of her family since I was 8, and it's always nice to have the chance to sit and visit. Two and a half hours before the reception I was appointed Official Photographer of the Blessed Event (Redux). That meant a quick dash to the Battery Plus and the drugstore to refresh my little darlin', a Minolta X-700. Top of the line around 1984, this wee beastie has served me well. I'm very comfortable with her, but I've been feeling a twinge of guilt as I've been window shopping for digitals lately.

(Oh my: tangent alert).

So, I'm tromping through the mall with my dress and heels, big hair and 20-pound camera bag, drawing stares as I go. I flirted with the young man at the battery store so he would replace my batteries for me. I showed him my still-tacky nails, all done up in OPI Wyatt Earple Purple, and he happily consented to do the dirty work.

On the way out of the mall, I fell off the Smoking Wagon and bought a (small) pack of smokes, tearing into it on the walk to the Jeep so I would have one ready to light the instant I got near the lighter. I managed three of the little guys in an eight-minute drive. I was less concerned about the head rush than the fact that I probably now stunk to high heaven of smoke and not Ysatis.

I get so worried in my old age about photographing Important Events. I check and double check everything and generally end up having a lousy time, looking at the world through a viewfinder. The first person I ran into was Sarah and Lisa's father, Dan. He thanked me right off for stepping into the breach and helping out. "No problem," I said, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing every weekend. We caught up as I put everything together and tossed back a glass of rum punch. (Oh, my kingdom for another cigarette!)

Next up, the Mother of the Bride, Sharon. She gave me a great big hug and told me that I didn't have to take on the task if I didn't want to. Aha! An out! No, I couldn't do that to her. Especially since I was already into the job for $25 in batteries and film.....

It turned out not too bad at all. I did get to visit a lot and got what I think will turn out to be some dynamite shots. Only time will tell: Black's didn't have the films back Monday when I stopped in after work, so I get 50% off. Whoohoo! That discount will add up, seeing as I also had the shots put on cd for quick emailing to Sarah and Mike in SF.

Lisa is presently 33 weeks pregnant, looking nice and round. She took great pleasure in creeping me out with her now 'outie' bellybutton. I told her that she should be good to go any day now, if the human body works like a Butterball turkey. She was not amused. I think she wants New Year's Eve to just get here, already. The heartburn is killing her. Oh, and the 'roids. Such joys I have to look forward to, huh?

Tomorrow: My Mom turns 60. Ouch.

Posted at 12:24 p.m.