There go the Brides

Isn't it something how vacation goes so fast that you can barely get your bags unpacked and it's already over? Although I miss the dogs, I cannot say I missed much of anything else. (Well, the gaybors--we missed the gaybors.) Alas, our time with Dos Marias is screaming to an end. It has been a spectacular time, with every minute enjoyed.

Here I am, standing on top of the world (well, on top of Mt. Talcott, anyway), wearing my "hostage sweatshirt," of which I wore every day of vacation. Thankfully, I was able to wash it mid-week and no one was tortured by said sweatshirt. I hadn't planned on it being so cool, so it was either wear the damn sweatshirt every day or freeze. I suppose I could have gone shopping but nothing more would fit in my carry on bag and so I had to go with what I already owned. My trifocals made it a bit hairy standing on the cliff's edge, as it distorts things to the point that I got a milli-second woozy and thus had to scamper from the scenic photo opportunity and grab a piece of more solid ground.

Dos Marias have been the best hostesses on the planet. I don't know how we can ever appropriately and sufficiently thank them. They made it possible for us to enjoy a vacation we probably wouldn't have otherwise been able to take. For Pete's sake, they borrowed us their Acura (dont' think I was in sheer terror driving that thing), they fed us, they took us to awesome places, they gave us a free place to stay (both at their house and at "W," the hotel in New York City--gotta love those frequent flier miles they rack up by the minute), they made coffee for me every day. They made sure we knew how to get to and from the wedding, they let us use their computer hours at a time, they indulged my Book de la Face addiction, they found me incredible vegetarian places to feed my face, they made sure there was chocolate in the house. Thank you from the bottom of our midwestern hearts, Dos Marias.

The wedding, ah the wedding. You will think I am being dramatic when I say it was probably the best wedding I have ever been to....but, it was. From the reading of the Massachusetts Supreme Court ruling on same-sex marriage (now, THAT'S a way to start a wedding ceremony) to 30 kids playing the violin as part of the ceremony (Suzuki DeFranco is a violin teacher), it was a wondrous event......however....

The event I am about to recall is absolutely true, with not one shred of exaggeration. You can ask the wife, as she was there and was appropriately mortified. I was sitting in the end seat of the pew so I could get fabulous photos of the brides as they marched down the aisle. As I have big feet and as I have distorted vision, I didn't exactly know that one of my feet were kinda sorta in the aisle. So, I am snapping photos left and right and here comes the step father, unsteadily pushing a walker up my side of the aisle. He was tentative at best. He gets to me and BONK! Comes to a complete stop. Why? Because his walker has just bumped right into my foot. How he didn't go down, I do not know. Step Father grabs his footing, gives me the death look stink eye.....I profusely but quietly apologize, pulled my foot out of the way and felt appropriately mortified. The wife was even more mortified. I thank the Baby Jesus that he didn't go down for the count. I would never have forgiven myself for that.

The reception was a gala event, complete with bridesmaids removing various articles of clothing so we could get a photo of all our tattoos together. That's a photo of the wedding cake. How can you have a bad time when the bride and bride refer to themselves as Ernie and Bert? The wife was able to reconnect with some former students and peers from a previous job and I was able to do the Cupid Shuffle, so all was well in the world.

Now it is time for us to return to the Flatlands, happy and tired, grateful and rejuvenated. We are armed with a boatload of photos and many a fun story. Adios, Dos Marias! Adios, Connecticut and brides.....

....Thank you, eight pound six ounce Baby Jesus. Watch your walker when I'm in town.