given that he didn't have any work that couldn't be managed over the phone today, patricio took me out on an all-day date in tlalnepantla. let's call it lunch and a movie, with a little errand thrown in to try keeping us from feeling completely frivolous. in truth, the errand may be considered frivolous in spite of it all: we picked up the cd's from the photographer's studio, the digital record of our wedding. frivolous or not, it felt like a small triumph as the block of jewel cases landed in patricio's hands. the force is now with us; we can bombard all our friends and family with images of december 29th with only a few clicks of the mouse-- clickably enlargeable moments like:
sitting in that chapel, one of the happiest in world history,
stepping out of the photography shop, we ambled toward the street where the newly unjunked jetta was parked, passing the printer's shop where our wedding invitations were born. the thread of memory that ties me to that tiny business leads to last march, when the printed word sealed our first promise. two days after patricio read a letter to my parents, his clear, warm voice asking them for my hand, we sat together in his hotel room opening various envelopes and deciding on a design for the spanish invitations (the number two would mean more than just "people" over the course of our wedding trajectory: two weddings, two sets of invitations, two honeymoons...kind of like joy squared). running my hand over the ivory example we loved, i learned that choosing between big name invitation printers wasn't something most comprometidos do here in mexico. couples like us turn to independent printers, those who create their own designs and cater to the whims of their customers. they're infamously slow, eternally behind schedule, professionals at both printing and amiably postponing the delivery date. but the box of beautiful, artfully printed paper was a reward worth the wait.
josé salazar dominguez prints everything from baptism invitations to quinceañera party favors, binding and assembling everything from simple announcements to master's theses. his shop, like the knife grinder's, is a cluttered little empire unto itself--but a heavy treasure of levers, gears and wheels steals the foreground behind the counter. scraping the years of grease off the thick iron back-bar with his forefinger, he nodded, remembering that the beast was manufactured in ohio, in an era long before any of us were born.
though he didn't transform card stock into our invitations on that press, he still prefers it over his newer model to individually imprint page numbers. long documents still have printing privileges on that ohio artifact; to watch how it's done, click here.
unexpectedly, lunch and a movie today turned into a foray through recent memories--ones permanently imprinted--and helping us feel the welcome weight of our very good fortune. so very nice.