‘Where’s Neil?’ ‘There he is,’ Dad says. ‘Where?’ ‘There. The guy in the kilt, waitin’ for you.’ ‘Holy shit.’ For awhile, I couldn’t see him. And then he was all I saw. Somehow, we made it down the aisle. And Daddy’s poking me in the shoulder. ‘Flowers,’ he says. ‘What?’ ‘Give Jess your flowers.’ ‘Oh, yeah. HERE!’ At which point I might have given my Maid of Awesome a giant paper-cut. In the face. Because, y’know, my flowers were paper.…
Growing up, there was a church down the street from the house where my heart lived. Grandma and I would pass the church on the way to spend my allowance on baseball cards, Cherry Coke bubble-gum and Wintergreen Tic-Tics. Most Saturdays, there was a wedding at the church and Grandma and I would try and catch a glimpse of the bride, but never stayed long enough to seem like we were staring, or wedding-crashers. ‘Think that’ll be me someday?’ ‘Of…
I know I’m jumping ahead a bit here, but we had a guest on our honeymoon. George Bailey-Penguin comes with us wherever we go. And our honeymoon, I learned, was no different. By the end of our week in Bruges, George was being recognised by waiters and bar staff, who asked us, ‘Does he go everywhere with you?’ Apparently so. Here’s George sampling some Belgian beer, so we didn’t have have to. But we did anyway. Smiske Extra. Westmalle and…
And so, this happened: Still trying to find words for the last few weeks. There will be a bunch of them. And they still won’t be enough to cover it. For now, I want to share proof of our Double Docs wedding. (Thanks to The Invisible Man, and our friend Dan, for the photo.) And what did you do on June 15th? …
