Today is my third wedding anniversary. The anniversary of a wild, crazy, fun weekend. Where my best friend, my whole family came out and spent time in the city and with the woman I love. The weekend where my brother and my brother-in-law began to wonder if they were separated at birth. That was a great weekend. One that marked a wake for a good number of my demons, and the true beginning of MY life.
Funny story from that weekend. After the wedding was over, Sunday morning, my father held a brunch for the wedding party and all of the immediate family of my blushing bride and me.
We were at a very posh hotel (how we managed that is a story.. perhaps for next year). The wedding coordinator for the posh hotel is a very proper southern woman. Always in a crisp suit, always with her portfolio in hand, never a hair out of place. She walks into our brunch with sort of a worried countenance. Looks hurriedly around, and makes a b-line for the wife and me. She saddles up between us and whispers:
"Um.. Did a mehmber of your weddin' party... um.. phoop in the hallway?"
We look at each other, and then each of us look at our respective brothers. My brother-in-law throws up his hands; "Don't look at me, it wasn't me!"
One of our bridesmaids shouts in shock, horror, and disgust "I stepped in it.. ugh!!"
Apparently another wedding, held in the same posh hotel, was to blame. The brother of the bride got completely housed before the wedding. Made a huge scene, got thrown out of the reception. After he got back to his room zigged when he should have zagged. Instead of the bathroom, he went into the hallway, and then when he went back into his room (perhaps after realizing his mistake.. maybe not) he swung the door over his.. "mess." Which turned a landmine into a huge problem.
I imagine 3 years later, he's still in big trouble.
No training last night, the wife surprised me with king crab and scallops, and we had a nice dinner at home.
Tomorrow, there'll be some lifting.
This weekend, hopefully I'll be riding my bike alot.