Today, I went to the first wedding of someone who was actually my age. And when I say that, I mean we were born 8 days apart. This is a guy whom I’ve known all my life (although we haven’t seen much of each other since we graduated college) because our parents went to college together.
The service and the reception were both in the Santa Cruz mountains on a patch of land owned by the bride’s family. It was in this amazingly beautiful valley off highway 1 and we were all very lucky it didn’t rain (as there was a chance it was going to as of earlier in the week) because it was all held outdoors.
Seeing some of the other random people that I hadn’t seen since freshman year of college was a trip. I also hadn’t seen the bridegroom or his family in years, either, even though he and his sister live in the area.
Right now, I’ve got my brother sleeping on the floor downstairs and my stepdad on the couch. In four hours, my stepdad is waking up for a supershuttle to take him to the airport to fly him off to Toronto. I just hope they don’t wake me up when they get here.