Gah. I’m the worst for updates.
The Wedding? Fabulous!
Her gown? Incredible.
The families? As strange and goofy as yours.
The Getaway Clothes? Hugo Boss suit for him, some stylish trench coat over *what?* for her! The getaway car? Shrinkwrapped and filled with balloons. As poor Paul emptied the balloons from one side, my sister gathered them up and reloaded them in from the other. Hilarious! Bubbles for everyone.
“No ifs, buts, or maybes, we’re off making babies” lettered on the rear window. Other sister frowns, “but it doesn’t say they’re married.” Yeeesh….
Pictures? Not yet. You see, I’m one of those people who needs to be in the moment in the moment. Stopping to take pictures is an analog, static procedure which dims the event and dulls the senses. I must live it, experience it, and enshrine it in my Monet of Memory. Fuzzy and evocative, my moments are mine to interpret as a whole entity. A well-paid photographer will capture what everyone else saw.
Me? I was there.