Sunday, August 5, 2007

A Wedding Story

I drove home Thursday night. The three of us girls showed remarkable restraint in only talking till 1:30.

The next day we drove up to the wedding. We had to stop and have lunch on the way. We tried to eat at subway, but it was closed down. Steak 'n Shake had a note on the door apologizing for being closed. Taco Bell did have people going through the drive through, but with only twenty minutes till noon the doors were locked. McDonald's was naught but a pile of rubbish with a dark hood over the golden arches, probably signifying the death of the food industry in that town.

We did eventually find a town in which restaurants abounded.

The wedding itself was small but lovely. It turns out that the reason it was on Friday is because the maid of honor is a Messianic Jew and can't travel on Saturday.

My friend was completely beautiful. She walked up the isle with a smile that was practically a grimace, but she told us later that it was because she was trying not to cry...since her mascara would then run and that wouldn't be such a nice affect for the pictures.
She sounded completely different than I remembered her. All sweet and seraphic. But after the ceremony she was pretty much just as she's always been.

She was really glad to see me so I'm really glad I came. We didn't have any time to talk, but she gave me a huge hug and introduced me to Brock. I've been rather curious what Brock was like, Debbie and I haven't seen each other since I graduated high school and back then she tended to go for...well more edgy guys I suppose.

I spent most of the reception and the dinner afterwards talking pictures of everything. My siblings, the food, Debbie and Brock (thank-goodness for 10x zoom), which caused Holly to hum "Tune for the Paparazzi".

Instead of a big wedding cake they had a bajillion tiny wedding cakes. They were quite cute.

My youngest sister, Bethany, she hated all the pictures I took of her...except for this one.

Holly, in one the few moments she was not glaring at me for taking her picture.

My little brother who, after years of us girls complaining about the way he smiles in pictures, refuses to smile for the camera at all. When we particularly want him to smile normally for a picture we poke him in the ribs.


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