what went down.

And we're back!

Except, now instead of my brain being full of paper scraps, my brain is just overloaded with all these memories that I want to pour all over a sheet of paper so I can remember it forever. Right now, I am still only at the point where I'm making itemized list notes in my journal. Someday, that'll turn into actual essays or whatever I do here.

I bought dinner for 50 people Friday night. When in doubt, go for pizza and beer. Afterwards, we walked over to someone's hotel room and drank a little more. Someone stood on a rolling chair and gave us a very nice toast. Then when I was heading out to Josh's mom's, where I was staying for the night, Josh came with me. He asked if it bothered me that we were breaking the tradition of not seeing each other the day of the wedding. I shrugged. Whenever Josh asks if he can go somewhere with me, I always say yes.

We slept in the same room on separate twin beds. I woke up early to get my hair done. He slept in, then hemmed his pants at the kitchen table.

We got married. The day was so beautiful and perfect that I wondered what we had done to deserve it. I wonder the same thing about Josh.

Then came the party. The decorations were a big hit, even though they were not nearly what I could have done if I had started working on them earlier. No one was any the wiser. Throughout the day, as people complimented me on the crafty creations, I encouraged everyone to please please please take anything they wanted. And they did! We brought in boxes and boxes of stuff, and we left with only 2 boxes of stuff. The end of the reception was like a fire sale. That made me happy, because it was like giving presents to everyone. Plus, I was kinda tired of looking at all that crap. One of the attendees is going to put my paper flowers up at the library where she works, which makes me feel like a real artiste.

There was too much beer and too much wine and too much food. The groomsmen took the kegs to an afterparty - my wedding had an afterparty! - but the next morning, there was still a lot left. Either we bought too much or all our friends are getting too old to party like they used to. My mom took home fifty bottles of wine. Depending on how soon I see her again, I may get some of it. She also took home a lot of finger sandwiches, but she gave the leftover shrimp and grits to a groomsman. At the afterparty, they picked out the shrimp.

We left with the very last guests, pushing decorations on them on their way out. We went to Trader Joe's for wine and beer and bread and cheese, then to a cabin in Pilot Mountain State Park. The next day, we went to Asheville, where we spent most of the time in our downtown hotel room, eating more beer and bread and cheese.

Then we came home and the heat pump was broken. Married life begins.

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