In Awe

Today is my parents' 32nd wedding anniversary. THIRTY-TWO YEARS.

They got married in a lovely little hippie wedding* held on a Friday night, with one attendant each, and a short invite list. (Well, as short as an invite list can be when you have eight or nine siblings.) The reception was held at a friend's house and catered by various friends with foodstuffs purchased from the grocery store, beer in cans and a punchbowl that contained more than Hawaiian Punch, as a six-year old Uncle David discovered. In a word: Low-key.

*Not so hippie that it didn't involve a church and a Catholic priest, though. Let's not get carried away.

As a child I was convinced my wedding would be The Party of the Century. You know, because that's what weddings are about, really. I may have picked out some poofy dresses from the J.C. Penney catalog for all eight of my bridesmaids. And the matching parasols. (Don't blame me! It's not my fault that 80's fashion was so hideous!!!!) I'm pretty sure my anticipated reception featured an ice sculpture or a champagne fountain or some other expensive display of non-functional excess. My parents' wedding, it was not.

Now guess what my plans look like?

(And by "plans" I mean, "random musings in my head when I'm at someone else's wedding or hearing about the planning process." Not "I have everything charted out right here in this expandable file folder, just look for the tabs that say 'dress,' 'invite list,' 'dinner menu,' etc." But if it would help, I'd be happy to put something together for you, you know, just in case.)

Thirty-two years? I don't think I could do it, I said to a friend.

How long do you think you'd last?

You're assuming it's a non-zero number??? Ha!