Rosa’s Wedding

Yesterday I wrote about my friend, Rosa’s wedding. Except it was more about me than Rosa and her wedding. Typical, right? Am I a narcissist or just very narrow in my scope of observational abilities. Let’s see if I can do better today.

Rosa is one of the kindest, loveliest people I’ve ever known. She stands all of five feet tall and her smile is like sunshine. Not the glaring sunshine of a summer day in Florida, but that of a warm autumn afternoon when the very quality of light makes one glad to be alive.

When Rosa told me about her impending nuptials I was kind of surprised. For one thing, I thought she was already married. She and her domestic partner of many years, Esteban, have three beautiful children together. Rosa is a devout woman, as well, so the old fashioned Puritan in me was shocked even as the free spirited hippie in me thought, “right on!”

For the ceremony Rosa wore a beautiful, traditional white satin gown with a fitted bodice adorned with lace and embroidered with seed pearls. She was radiant.

Since the ceremony was in Spanish, there was a good deal I didn’t understand, but I believe the priest asked the couple how long they’d been together and why they’d decided to marry after all these years. I’ll have to ask Rosa to be certain, though. I was struck by the personal nature of the priest’s interaction with the couple. It was almost as if the rest of us weren’t there at all. This was no dog and pony show, but an intimate joining of two people.

Well, as intimate as it could be in a church filled to the brim with families with small children. This wasn’t a quiet affair, but one in which the vows were woven in and around a great deal of exuberance and movement.

After the couple was officially wed, the priest led them down the aisle and back up again to joyful music. And the music! Oh my goodness! I knew none of the songs, but they were played with gusto by a mariachi-style band. I had to look to make sure it wasn’t a recording, but there were real live people behind me making music.

Once they were back at the altar the photographer stepped up to take pictures. Of everyone. There were a few standard married couple and wedding party types of photos, but after those were done regular members of the assembled audience stepped forward for photos with Rosa and Esteban. I snapped a few on my phone and said “hi” to a couple of people I knew before heading to my car. Before I made it to the car, though, Rosa’s eldest daughter caught up to me and said Rosa wanted me in one of the pictures. That was pretty sweet. I wish I’d thought to have someone snap the picture on my phone, but you’ll just have to take my word for it.

There’s lovely Rosa on the far right. Beautiful bride, beautiful church, beautiful day.

Peace, people!

Forgive Me, Father, for I Have Goofed

My housekeeper, Rosa, and her long time beau tied the knot this weekend. She’d invited Studly Doright and me to the ceremony, but of course he couldn’t miss his golf game, so I attended solo. I was excited to be on the guest list, and to dress up for the occasion. After Studly left for golf, I began the process of getting myself prettified even though the event was several hours in the future.

The only hiccup in the getting dressed category was putting on my hosiery. It’s been ages since I wore hose and I ripped three pair before I finally got a pair on correctly. There were words said that I haven’t used since the last time I had to wear hose. They were not nice words. I was somewhat mollified by my appearance in the mirror once I had my dress and heels on. Not bad for a newly-turned 63-year-old.

I had the invitation to the wedding in my car, and entered the address in my gps. Thank goodness for high school Spanish, and that the street and town names were in English. I left for Quincy, Florida, with plenty of time to spare. I followed the gps instructions through Quincy and down several back roads to a house in the country. It certainly didn’t look like the church Rosa had told me about, but there was a spot set aside for parking. No cars were there, though. Hmmm.

I read over the invitation again more carefully, and realized immediately what I’d done. The church name, St. Thomas, was listed but with no address. The reception site; however, had an address and that’s where I’d gone. Just like that, my ample time disappeared. I entered an address for the church after a quick google search and drove back to Quincy at the fastest speed I thought I could get away with. The gps said I’d be five minutes late. I said, “Challenge accepted.”

The route took me back through Quincy where I managed to make it to St. Thomas’s with only one stop for a red light. I was just three minutes late. Take that, gps! Still, I was late, so I entered quietly through a side door. The ceremony was well underway, so I took a seat towards the back of the sanctuary.

Now, I’m not Catholic, but I earned my degree from the University of Mary in Bismarck, North Dakota, and I have attended mass dozens of times throughout the years. Some of my favorite people are Catholic including my mother-in-law, and my youngest sister-in-law, and her significant other. I’ve even spent a lovely weekend at a Catholic retreat. I know how to behave in mass…when it’s celebrated in English. Not so much in Spanish.

I followed the leads of those near me so I’d know when to stand, sit, and kneel. I tried to catch the words to the responses, but without luck. Finally the ushers approached with the offertory baskets. “Aha!” I thought. “I know how to handle this.”

I fished out some folding money and was putting it in the basket when I realized there were some small gifts in there. Hmm. Maybe I was supposed to put my card and gift for the couple in the basket. I did just that and then was startled to see it being taken directly to the priest who blessed it and set it aside behind the altar.

Remember some of the words I said while destroying my pantyhose? It’s a really good thing I’d gotten those out of my system before the priest blessed that gift. They wouldn’t have been appropriate in church.

As soon as the couple was pronounced husband and beautiful wife and all of the kissing of the bride and taking of pictures had occurred, I tracked down the priest, who surprisingly spoke English with a lovely Irish accent. I explained about my mistake, and he promised to get my gift to Rosa and her husband. I think he was fairly certain that I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, but he seemed like a good sort who’d make sure the newlyweds ended up with the blessed gift. And isn’t that really what matters?

Peace, people!

My Favorite Photo of 2015

I’m no photographer. In fact, Mr. Kodak and Mr. Polaroid will come together in Kodachrome Instamatic heaven to weep inconsolably at my ineptitude, but if it reunites them can that be a bad thing?

But even the worst photographer gets a break now and then. This is most likely the most beautiful photo ever taken by anyone. I believe the photography gods were smiling down on me on this one allowing me to capture my niece Hanna on her wedding day in Guatemala.


So take that, Mr. Kodak and Mr. Polaroid. And even that Ansel Adams dude. 

Peace, people!


Why I Like This Photo


I am perhaps the least photogenic person on this planet, so there are very few photos of me worth sharing. And, it’s not that I look particularly great in this photo, but it appears that someone is looking at me in an admiring manner.

Lest anyone think that was the case, let me reassure you that shortly after this was snapped my “admirer” asked politely if he could please cross in front of me to go to the restroom.

Yep, I have that effect on men.

Peace, People!

Rescued: My Attempt at Writing a Sonnet

After completing my anagram poem I wondered if I could handle a sonnet. I found an instructional video on Youtube (shown below) and gave it the old college try. Shakespeare might just be rolling in agony within the confines of his grave. Poor bard.


Gathered together in sight of their friends
Bride’s I do’s were uttered, intoned in fear,
When knight came a’gallop to make amends
Solemn priest looked alarmed, groom smirked a sneer.

Handsome knight leaned low, offered bride strong hand,
She blushed, smiled sweetly, swung into his arms.
As he turned and hastened back to his land
All present could see the work of his charms.

Scorned groom gave chase, apprehended the pair
Drew from his scabbard, his sword formed in doom
Flicked once with a vengeance, sliced through the air
Brave knight placed himself ‘twixt lady and groom.

Knight rests now beneath battlefield so bare
While poor lady dwells in cruel groom’s lair.


Second Photo by Colin Cowie Weddings.

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