Wow, time sails by. Here we are in the latter part of July, three months from the last post on this page, on the ringed side of a solstice wedding, deep into the sinews of a roasting summer, the grills in the distance spinning out smoke and that sweet caramelized smell reminiscent of all those others summers when you were younger and probably drinking Rainiers like bottled water, or too many IPAs before they got warm. Here we are on top of our blankets at night, spread eagle before the box fan. Here we are, figuring out who’s got beer and A/C and a table in the corner where you can be anti-social with a book or a journal or the crossword, the Sunday crossword, that you’ll fill out a bit of before just staring at the ceiling because you can’t remember the word “epee”.
I got married. In the rainforest heat of St. Louis, which was receiving the wet end of some hurricane somewhere else. His name was Bill. This hurricane. The rain neglected to show up the day of the wedding. And returned the next day. We got lucky. And in everything else too we were lucky. Thanks to the efforts of so many family and friends, the thing went off amazingly. The bride and groom didn’t break down during vows. They didn’t falter when speaking. Or fall at any time. The Kiss was photogenic and not weird (because usually we don’t kiss for an audience, which is weird). They gave each other rings and said sweet incantations to tie it all up in a bow. Married.
Now back to Seattle. To working. To biking and grilling and drinking IPAs in the park (or on a roof or in front of a fan in your apartment). Back to a slightly different existence of legal commitment and referring to someone as “wife” casually (so so strange!). We can all be married now. Let’s all be merry now.