Our wedding

It was perfect.

Not in the storybook-perfect way. It was raining pretty heavily all day, there was a lot of fog, and there were a lot of people I wanted to see that couldn't make it. Also I was tired, frazzled, and couldn't eat all day. But it was still perfect. Because it was us, and because it was our family and friends, and because it was our wedding.

I'll go into more detail later, but here are the important points. The house was amazing. Spending a week with the two families (who got along like gangbusters, natch) was amazing. Lots of laughter and good food. We cooked enough food to choke three armies, half of which ended up going home with everyone on Sunday. (But better to have too much than not enough.) The biggest hits were, of course, the seafood gumbo and my barbecue sauce. My dress was beautiful, made by my mom, and everyone loved the shoes. I got to wear my great-grandmother's pearls. The bouquet was a variety of herbs from my mom's garden. My best friend performed the ceremony. No one stuttered, or cried, or spontaneously vomited, or did any of things I was afraid would happen during the ceremony. But lots of people in the audience cried. In fact, I couldn't stop grinning.

After the service, we all ate, took some great pictures, and then retired to the bar--conveniently located next to both the living room and the hot tub. Drinks were had. At some point in the evening, John's uncle, a plastic surgeon from Ohio, started talking to my brother. My brother has a mole on his nose--just a little one, but it's always bothered him. Uncle Doctor told him if he wanted it removed, all he needed was a bag of ice and a pair of embroidery scissors. So we procured a bag of ice and a pair of embroidery scissors, gave my brother a couple of fortifying shots, and then the doctor just--snip!--and it was gone. We put a bandaid on it and celebrated. It's not every wedding that has surgery in it.

Oh, my brother-in-law sliced his finger open earlier on the week on one of my mom's good knives. It took four stitches. So the marriage has been doubly consecrated in blood. It's not a party until someone bleeds.