Fulfilled my husbandrly (not included in the new Webster's dictionary) duty this weekend by attending a wedding. Read closely guys, it's in the vows "To have and to hold" Subsection 8000-11-55000-6978 "and to be held against your will for a time to exceed four hours while your wife is crying profusely." I've been trying to come up with why women cry so much at weddings. My wife was actually crying before the wedding began, I thought the pastor made a face at her or something. I can only conclude women cry at weddings for two reasons – they're single and depressed – or there standing next to some big oak like me who made the same cherished vows and now won't get off his butt during football season to take out the trash. If any men are crying, it's because a) they're paying for the darn thing or b) they just lost their favorite drinking buddy. I'm not a big wedding fan. I went to my own. I was there several hours early in fact. I assumed I was done. But the whole pomp and aura usually loses its meaning on me. These ideas will have to be refined before my sister gets married next year because I'm guessing she want's a better response than fashioning a noose from a garter behind the DJ. So, with the need for there still to be hope for me, I will tell you that I felt renewed at this wedding. I think the beauty of young love is captivating, I think it can warm the coldest hearts – something about that sense of unity. Yuck, I've become mushy now. Next thing you know, I'll be talking about how pretty the flowers were. And they were lovel .... Oh, no, no, I need to stop talking.
