In the first of a string of family weddings happening in the next year or so, my cousin Matt got married this past weekend to the lovely Debbe Dickinson at West Point. It was beautiful. The bride wore her grandmother’s dress. The groom wore his full Army dress uniform. Absolutely elegant. Until it hit about noon. Then, as my Uncle George likes to say, things got goofy.
So, weddings in my family, as they are becoming more and more these days, are a weekend-long event. What started Thursday night ended at about 1pm Sunday afternoon, and quite frankly I’m shocked people are still standing. Or going to work. Or are awake.
Friday night we rehearsed dinner, as they say. The Turnbulls rehearsed drinking. And we may have met our match in those Texans, who instead of Coors Light choose straight whiskey. And then put on cowboy boots and dance. It’s amazing. And, if anyone asks, I did not give any 8-year-olds wine. Did not.
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