Runaway Bride

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‘The Child takes the plunge at the Grand Canyon’

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.)

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La Dolce Vita and Me

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‘The time I flew to Rome for a wedding in the Vatican’

The Dude is still kicking himself that he was ‘too busy’ to go. A friend of ours, who happened to be one of the Pope’s attorneys, invited us to his wedding. (This was way before Pope Francis, so he wasn’t one of his attorneys. But, come to think of it, I’m not sure Pope Francis needs attorneys.) Anyway, this friend was getting married to a woman from a Great Italian Family — and because of their well-connectedness, they were getting married in the Vatican.

We found out about it when we got this amazing wedding invitation in the mail. Calligraphy, of course. On parchment. Several sheets of parchment. In fact, this invitation was more like an illuminated medieval manuscript than anything else. There were pages and pages. The woman from the Great Italian Family needed a whole page just to list all her names.

There was a page for the ceremony, to be held in one of the chapels in the Actual Vatican Itself. (Not the Sistine, but close.) And pages listing all the other fun stuff planned for the wedding guests: A Ball in a Palace (“white tie or full military dress”), Rehearsal Dinner in a Private Club (“black tie”), Private Tour of the Sistine Chapel (“Appropriately Modest Attire”), Reception at the American Academy (“Whatever You Wore to the Wedding”, or something like that). Etc. Etc. Etc. Continue reading

Winning the Dude-A-Thon

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‘We make it to 31 on the 31st’

It snowed late that March too. A lot. So much that we were worried about travel. No, not for our guests, but for us.

See, we didn’t really have a wedding. We are officially married, rest assured. But those jillion-dollar affairs with champagne spigots and swans carved from ice? Not for us. For one thing, we were paying for it ourselves. And for another thing, while Dude Man does like attention, he does not like being the center of attention. Which can’t help but happen if you have a wedding. With yourself in it, I mean.

Speaking of being the center of attention, The Dude and I demonstrate the secret to a long marriage: racy underpants. Worn on your head, of course

Speaking of being the center of attention, The Dude and I demonstrate the secret to a long marriage: racy underpants. Worn on your head, of course. (Oh, I’ve got a story involving underpants and a huge dog you might like)

See, The Dude had been to one too many weddings where people did things like write ‘Help Me!’ on the soles of the bridegroom’s shoes so everyone tittered when the kneeling bits happened. And, speaking of shoes, he once forgot his when he packed for an out-of-town wedding–a wedding where he was the Best Man. Continue reading