Check it out, my blog is wearing an orange jumpsuit.

I've posted none of the vaguely promised photos from the events surrounding the lovely Lora's & Lee's wedding, and for that I apologize. I'll do my best to scrape up a couple publicly acceptable ones from Sarah's emails whilst cheating on the folks' dial-up with the library's high-speed, but I've gotta set up a clandestine meeting with the high-speed first. Shhhhhh.

Anyway, some of my favorite moments from the weekend included 10) Discovering that molded butter patties are, in fact, not white chocolate, 9) Witnessing Lora spend 10 minutes locating the front of her petticoat (a layered undergarment roughly the size of Saskatchewan), 8) Watching the wedding video montage, 7) Dancing to Hey Ya after a heavy round of slammers from the 60's and 70's, 6) Spiking the lemonade. Wait, what? 5) Receiving the cold shoulder at Croc Rocks and the warm one at Braveheart's, 4) Accidentally losing my contacts down the sink, spending the day in a gritty haze, getting chauffeured from Lansing to Alma and finding my corolla proselytized upon, ashed upon, and loogied upon . . . yet untowed (phew!), 3) Discovering my optical saviour in the friendly woman at the Alma Wal*Mart's* vision center, 2) Team-coining the word "manphlet" (it's like, um, a pamphlet . . . with, um, men in it) and 1) Playing pass the cucumber at the bachelorette party.

But in all seriousness, Lora's wedding was truly beautiful and it really made me appreciate all those dialogues she and I shared in, ohhhhh, 7th grade, during which Lora would paint a vivid mental image of her future nuptuals and I would try to play along by squeezing a drop of imagery out of my bewildered and unprepared cache of creativity. Dear Lora, you've proved that (mental) practice does, in a sense, make perfect reality. WELL DONE.

*This is the only time I have ever relied and ever will rely on Wal*Mart for my livelihood. Gross.