Flashback Friday. Also Valentine's Day. And Presidents' Day. And I am not exactly sure why we have to try and stuff everything into one weekend. Gah.

In recognition of 13.6 years of him putting up with me for my boobs and lasagna wedded bliss, I present you here today with a photo of Big Dude and me on our wedding day. By the looks of things, we were surveying the plot of Oklahoma land we planned to homestead. (My! Such optimism! We had no idea the Dust Bowl would totally crush our dreams as well as our sod-roofed shack. Fortunately, love and our ability to surf real estate ads online have carried us through such dire hardships.)

You'll notice my bouquet made of piece of crap flowers that I did not pick out because the florist didn't realize I was serious when I placed my order for a ball of half-opened dark pink roses.  Apparently my deposit check still didn't convince her.  However, my phone call the night before the wedding...that made her wonder. "Oh - you still want them? Wul, I dun't have no dark pank roses."  So she gave us dead white roses and some friggin' carnations. Because that is what every bride dreams of.  Dead Stuff and Carnations. (Possibly the name of my band.)

What you won't notice is that I'm wearing my friend Harvard Barbie's wedding ring, because my betrothed's brother forgot to bring my ring to the wedding. No biggie. It was safe back in the unlocked motel room.

You also cannot tell that the judge that was to marry us called two days prior and said he decided to marry someone else that day instead. Or that my future-father-in-law went to the wrong place, causing him to be 45 minutes late. Or that as I came down the aisle, my father's mother said loudly, "Y'know she's pregnant, doncha?" ...meaning my barely pregnant sister / bridesmaid, but of course everyone thought she meant me. Or that our garage door was hanging off one hinge after an incident with several groomsmen and an electric golf cart with "LambRover" painted on the front of it.

Also, for some damned reason, one week before the wedding, after years of long, single-length hair, I went to a brand new hair-dresser and requested layers. Short layers.

I was completely sober, so I didn't even have an excuse.

 

OOOOOOOOOHK!   LaHoma.

Enjoy your hallmark-holiday o'love. Also President's Day, or as I like to call it, "Another damned day that teachers and bankers get to stay home but I have to drag my children to work day." I plan on making stovepipe hats and wooden teeth in celebration.