One of my best Bridge Buddies (hi, Laurie!) says she always reads my blog (thanks, Laurie!) but that she can tell when I’m, well, at a loss for words. I won’t mention specific posts, but if you, like Laurie, follow me regularly, you probably have your “favorites.”
Who wouldn’t be at a loss for words? (Well, except the Bridegroom, I trust)
Last week this happened because The Child had just wed The Beau in a quickie ceremony to satisfy the immigration authorities. (See “Runaway Bride” for cinematic photos and storybook details.) I sat there at my laptop wracking my brain, then gave in and wrote about the wedding. I could literally think of nothing else.
How could I possibly think of anything else? This is my brain on “wedding”
This week it’s because that story got kajillions of views and likes and comments. I’m thinking, “What can I write about now that could possibly capture your interest, O Faithful Readers?”
I am seldom at a loss for words, but this week I find myself almost too stunned to start this story. I’ll cheat and share what friends had to say: “Wow. So exciting!” “Simply beautiful, Alice! Congratulations to you and the happy couple!” “Beautiful couple and setting!” “OMG how stunningly beautiful!”
“Stunningly beautiful:” Scenery AND bride
Yes. The Child and The Beau got married. Eloped, actually. Saturday, May 1. At sunset. At the Grand Canyon. I’m still pinching myself.
Just the two of them. Plus that Lucky Preacher Guy. Oh, and a hub-and-wife photography team — who also served as witnesses
You see, The Happy Couple got engaged last November (See “How on Earth Did THIS Happen?” for deets) and had intended to get married in a ceremony complete with family and friends early next year, assuming the Covid Tide had turned. But they were advised to proceed with due haste so that the Bridegroom would not be deported. (James is Canadian, you see, from Saskatchewan, in fact, and his green card was getting stale.)
First, before you even think about correcting me in the comments (though commenting is always welcome) the term is indeed “derring-do” — not “daring-do.” I googled it. Middle English term, first used in 1579. And it means just what you think it means.
Second, I’m sorry to be so goldarned late with this post. (That is, if you noticed.) Yesterday, my regular Tuesday Posting Day, was also Old Apartment Closing Day, and I was sweating bullets until those funds got wired — anything can happen with a sale, you know — that I couldn’t even think about being amusing.
There was some serious celebrating chez Ken and Barbie
I’m not sure I can crank it up so well today, either. We did a bit of celebrating last night and well, um, let’s just say I was feeling no pain — until this morning.