When I was about nineteen, I used to complain to my mom that none of my friends were getting married or even close to getting married and I just wanted to go to a wedding, damnit, and how could they be so selfish as to let me down? My mom would always answer in a strangely calm, oracle-esque voice that I should be careful what I wished for, because in a few years a wave of weddings would hit and I would be lucky to make it out alive (okay, she didn't say the part about making it out alive, but it really works with the Oracle voice I'm imagining so deal with it).
I always replied to this sage wisdom with, "Whatever, Mom," and drowned my lack-of-happy-matrimony sorrows in yet another episode of A Wedding Story.
This summer, the wedding wave struck.
Just ten days ago, I officiated my best friend's fabulous wedding, and today I'm off to see my beautiful friend Meg tie the knot with her betrothed.
I was planning to write a bit more here, but a GIANT black hairy spider just lowered itself down next to my computer in a dead-on Arachnophobia impression, so I'm totally creeped out right now and must retreat to my bed where I hope a giant Amazonian spider isn't waiting to kill me and then stow away in my coffin and drain all my blood and then mate with a common housespider to produce a spider army that will invade an idyllic American town, kill many of its residents, and eventually face off with Jeff Daniels and oh my god my paranoia has made me ramble way too deep into this analogy. I better go.
I'll be back with a real post (and wedding pictures!) when the spider has vacated the premises and/or when I'm not attending a wedding. Hopefully within the year. Kidding! Sort of.