Wedding in Jersey

As I have generally trodden through the slough of midterms mostly unscathed, I can now return to my normal plithy sarcastic self, offering commentary on nearly everything that remains of general uninterest to most folks with a 7th grade education or a large number of cats (greater than one) in their household. This is not to say that I will disappear again, dear reader; for the monolith that is finals looms in the not too distant future, as does the fire-spitting, Mt. Doom of Thanksgiving with my wife's in-laws. Please pray for the pygmies...

This past weekend, the misses dressed up like a cute lil pumpkin to be a bridesmaid for her cousin at a little wedding in a little church in a little town in Georgia. This is probably the last time the word little in describing this event. As with most weddings there was plenty o'drama a-swirling; I won't detail the dirty laundry here (mostly b/c I don't really know or understand it fully myself), but lemme 'splain... no, there is too much - lemme sum up:

• Until 8 months ago, Bride had nothing to do with extended family beyond Mama, Brutha, and mean old Stepfather - not much love for the Original Daddy of Birth (henceforth referred to as ODB) or Grandma and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins (henceforth referred to as The Peasants). Bride wakes up from the washing of the brain(at age 29), contacts ODB (not having seen or heard from for 15 years), and shortly thereafter, becomes engaged. (And the Peasants rejoiced.)
• Bride sets about planning wedding alone. No bossy woman telling people (men) what they're doing wrong. No order to the universe. Dogs and cats start shacking up. Get the picture?
• The setting - Jersey, GA. Population 40. They're all invited. They're all firemen. They all were in the woods at 4:30am the morning of the wedding (including women, excluding the bride). Only one confirmed report of a deer sighting; no shots fired.

I was there only for two things, and two things only. As my wife was an elected pumpkin in charge of straightening The Dress, I was a gopher; something about her dress didn't allow movement. The second charge laid upon me, I gladly accepted - my stomach was needed. This being a proper Baptist church, there was the worry of not enough food; this was quickly turned in to a panicked realization that the modern human does not possess 3 stomachs when the food hit the tables. This is the first time in the history of me that I can recall having three meals in the span of only 4ish hours; brunch was done at 10am (hmmm, choco-chip pancakes), lunch was done at noonish (hmmm, barbecue), and supper was served at about 2:15 (hmmm, wings, meatballs, cake!). Gluttony, thy name is Galen.