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| For some bizarre reason, we had to hang around, have two
dances, almost eat — and then we made our entrance. What the hell is
up with that? Why couldn't we just walk in? Did the people around us say,
"Oh, hey... there's some pod people who look just like the bride and groom, but
they're not here yet! That couldn't be them. They haven't entered yet."
I mean, this was just plain silly. And you can see that we're not taking it
entirely seriously here. |
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But isn't this one sexy bride?
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My uncle Tommy — my best friend in the world and not coincidentally
the only man I'd have as my Best Man — gave a brilliant toast to us. It went
something like this: "My nephew's new nickname is 'Ferrett'. Well, all I can
hope is that Gini and him are like my ferrets — they play together all day, they
fight like hell but just when you think it's getting serious you realize they're enjoying
themselves.... and they always sleep together at night, cuddled up in each other's little
paws. And since they met through Star Wars, may the Force be with them.... thank you
and goodnight."
At some point I have to get a transcription of it. It was so spot-on.
I love ya, Tommy. |
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I can't really find anywhere else to fit this, since we didn't really
"enter" at our entrance (as bitched above) and I made the logical mistake
of leaping right into the Bride And Groom dance for the reception pages, so this is us
finally getting our butts over to the Long Ridge Tavern. It is a very pretty place
as you can see, like most of rural Stamford is. However, this is a good point to
note that it was the Beginning Of The End. This walk, which my Dad took pictures of,
is where my feet began to hurt. Those tux shoes are just MURDER. By the end of
the night I could barely walk and the next day I was glad I was driving, because it felt
like I was stepping on knives. Fortunately, Gin wore flat shoes, which I love her
for. She won't kill herself for fashion.... |
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