Mood: R&R – relieved and relaxed

Today is Sunday, September 17, 2023. It’s 58 F outside with a high of 68 F on the books as the forecast. Overcast skies command the area, and heavy rain is projected later. We’re looking forward to it.

My nephew’s wedding is over. Wasn’t without a hiccup for my spouse and I. We began by going to the wrong venue. We made it to the right one in time, which was the Phipp’s Conservatory, but not the othe Phipps place, which was the gardens. But once we were in sprawling grounds, we were like, now where do we go? We saw a wedding, went through. Nope; not our wedding. By now, we began finding others like us, wandering around in search of the wedding. Instructions were given. We followed those through the maze, finding more people looking for the wedding until we were a party of twelve. “Don’t follow us,” on said. “We don’t know where we’re going.” “Safety in numbers,” I replied, and several, “Yes, good.” Eventually, the way was found and we arrived. More arrived afterward, so we weren’t the last.

The ceremony was outside, in 70 F degree air under a marbled blue and white sky shortly before sunset. The flower girls were beautiful in green satin gowns, as were the ringbearers. These were young nieces. My sister was gorgeous in a merlot satin floor length gown. None, though, was as resplendent and stunning as the bride in traditional white with a train. Quite lovely. Then there was her hubby to be, nervously chuckling, tears ready to break out, in a black tux. They were a beautiful couple, and I was pleased to be there to witness the continuation of their relationship into the next stage.

Later, there were toasts by the bride’s father and my sister. Misidentified as Susan instead of Sharon, she addressed that gaffe with amusement, rolling it into her commentary about her new daughter-in-law. The couple had met via Bumble during COVID’s early days. They told of long, aimless walks together, the burgeoning realization that they were in love, always looking forward to seeing each other, counting the days and hours when away from the other. I’m so happy for them.

Next was the first dance, Ed Sherran with “Perfect”. We watched and smiled, teary-eye as the two privately danced in public, smiling, hugging, kissing, whispering.

Then was delicious food, and the cookie table. The wedding cookie table tradition in Pittsburgh began around the nation during The Depression of the 1930s. People couldn’t afford to make wedding cakes because of butter shortages and prices, so the cookie table, a community initiative, was taken on to overcome the problem. And so it continues.

Little boxes were provided to us. I’m pleased to say that I led the way, hitting the table to admire the goods and collect my share. The rest began descending like murders of crows. Good times.

Finally the dance floor. We stormed it in waves, getting down to songs from several decades, dancing with strangers, sisters, wife, brother-in-laws, nephews, nieces.

So, for a while, we put everything aside to focus simply on this couple and their joy. We’re fortunate and privileged to be able to do so, I know, and it is flatly at odds with so much happening in the world. Everyone deserves such a day and hour, and it’s a sad testimony to our state of existence that food insecurities, wars, and disasters keep many from even enjoying a happy minute.

Stay pos, be strong, and keep building on positive experiences. Coffee is being consumed; breakfast is on hold. One of the frustrating aspects of my relationship with my wife is that she doesn’t usually want to eat until after 11 AM, and I awake hungry hours before. We compromise by alternating between satisfying our needs.

Although The Neurons kicked “Roots” (Imagine Dragons) and “Whatever Gets You Thruthe Night” (John Lennon) in the morning mental music stream (Trademark traded), I’m overruling them for Ed Sheeran and “Perfect”. Here’s the tune. Cheers