another one for the books
Just like that, and Jonas is married.
Well, OK, it wasn't that quick. What kicked off the very sweet and romantic ceremony was the rambling sermon from an older wedding officiant. Not that it was lacking in humor - the line about letting Melanie buy whatever she wants got quite a laugh - but his circular narrative prompted Jonas' brother (also his best man) to suggest that we move on to something better... like the first dance:
For me, the wedding was a great opportunity to catch up with good friends. Schrock and Annabelle hosted me for the first night, and introduced me to the wonderfully frustrating family bonding time called the jigsaw puzzle (told you I'd find that piece!). Then Kathy took me on a search of a cold beer at a bluegrass festival (mission NOT accomplished), and finally Dave and Jen took on the role of a Stan-sitter. By the way, their kid is totally the cutest thing ever, even when packaged in a plastic tote:
Dave was even nice enough to drive me to the airport on my last day. Too bad that only after the check-in kiosk gave me the blank stare did I realize that I f'ed up my reservation and was flying out of SFO and not SJO. One letter, $100 cab ride difference. On the way, Susan poignantly observed that I, indeed, must be related to my brother, who managed to show up at a Paris airport a day late for his return flight. I wonder what gene controls the inability to follow an itinerary.
Well, OK, it wasn't that quick. What kicked off the very sweet and romantic ceremony was the rambling sermon from an older wedding officiant. Not that it was lacking in humor - the line about letting Melanie buy whatever she wants got quite a laugh - but his circular narrative prompted Jonas' brother (also his best man) to suggest that we move on to something better... like the first dance:
For me, the wedding was a great opportunity to catch up with good friends. Schrock and Annabelle hosted me for the first night, and introduced me to the wonderfully frustrating family bonding time called the jigsaw puzzle (told you I'd find that piece!). Then Kathy took me on a search of a cold beer at a bluegrass festival (mission NOT accomplished), and finally Dave and Jen took on the role of a Stan-sitter. By the way, their kid is totally the cutest thing ever, even when packaged in a plastic tote:
Dave was even nice enough to drive me to the airport on my last day. Too bad that only after the check-in kiosk gave me the blank stare did I realize that I f'ed up my reservation and was flying out of SFO and not SJO. One letter, $100 cab ride difference. On the way, Susan poignantly observed that I, indeed, must be related to my brother, who managed to show up at a Paris airport a day late for his return flight. I wonder what gene controls the inability to follow an itinerary.
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