The 23rd was our 18th wedding anniversary. Pretty much a given, apparently. We got married on a Sunday. It was a family tradition from my mom’s side. I always loved the idea of getting up, going to church, going back home, getting all dressed up, and going back to church. We had an amazing ceremony that we wrote ourselves. I still have that bright pick spiral notebook with the entire thing written out in cursive. We took things from different places, the Methodist Hymnal, things we had seen or heard done at other weddings, things from our parents’ weddings. I started crying when Mary started playing the first chords of the organ, and pretty much cried through the entire thing. I think I stopped around the candle lighting. I know I wasn’t crying at the kiss, but that was the absolute last thing. I’ve seen other weddings in which the minister pronounces them hubby and wife and says you can kiss the bride, and then goes on to do other things. I always wondered, if they’re now pronounced, shouldn’t it be over? What else is there? We agreed that the pronouncing and the kiss would be the absolute last thing. “I pronounce you hubby and wife, kiss, and get out.” Or something like that. It may have been more elegant.
As for celebrating, we went to Jack Stack for BBQ. Then to Sheridan’s Frozen Custard for a Wedding Cake Concrete, which we shared. It was a nice evening. And no, Lynn, the whistling and the pool thing didn’t come until later. Whistling takes practice, don’t you know? You can’t do it right on the first try!
Oh yes, I dyed some more yarn the other day. Green. I’ll try to post pics soon.
I think it’s, “…and you may now get out…”
Much classier.