Still alive, kinda

Sometime this week we will resume posting in a semi-regular fashion. Today, however, we are still recovering from our 23 hour roadtrip on Saturday. Family togetherness, y'all!

Our thanks go out to all the wonderful bloggers we were privileged to visit during our trip:

Entropy
Fr. Fox
Jay Anderson
TS
Betty Duffy
Rich Leonardi
Scott Carson

Having a Great Time, Wish You Were Here

MrsDarwin here, just now surfacing to say that the wedding was the most beautiful I've ever attended, bar none. The day was a superlative. Even nature cooperated -- there was 70% chance of showers, but instead the day was overcast and the light diffused, making for some marvelous pictures in the park. My sister was the most radiant, lovely bride, and the wedding mass itself went without a hitch. Many thanks go to the celebrant, Fr. Schnippel, who recognized us as The Darwins even though we were in our street clothes.

And the reception was about the most kickin' event ever. Good food, good company, old friends, and several special live performances made this the best reception in the history of receptions. The bar has been set high for any other wedding I attend from now on, because I'll be thinking, "How does this compare to the Egan/Wolf wedding of '09?"

As the groomsmen were all standing around the parking lot of the reception hall, waiting for the ladies to arrive for pictures, they were talking about needing an omen for the day. At that point, one of them looks up and says, "Look, a hawk with a snake!" Sure enough, there was a hawk circling above them with a snake in its beak. Anyone want to read the entrails and interpret for us?

Beach reading

We didn't take a vacation this year (except vicariously, through TS's travel posts), so I have to make my escape through reading. Yesterday I went to the beach, courtesy of Jeff Sawyer.

Outside on the small deck of the Isle de Veau, Jack squinted into the concrete gray sky as he cranked open a half-dozen blue Cinzano umbrellas, in case anyone actually showed up for lunch in this lousy weather. Three-foot waves gnawed at the beach in the distance, the wind occasionally carrying spray through angled palms all the way to his tan, tired face. It dampened the faded tee that hung loosely off his frame, and his cargo shorts, and his mood. Little electric Japanese lanterns strung around the deck arbor had twisted up tight, hanging themselves in their cords, the relentless wind shifting their vibe from island chic to bleak. The whole island felt like that to Jack these days, like paradise lost. Just a photo in a glossy brochure faded to light blue after sitting too long in the window of a travel agency in some snowy New England town.

Every morning he’d see crusty old retirees who’d responded to brochures like that, pensioned dinosaurs plodding along the beach on crunchy knees, bracing their backs with one hand to stoop and pick up shells with the other, artifacts they mailed to grandchildren back home. Under floppy cotton hats, their thin, hoary hair was whipped by the wind against cocoa wrinkles. Where did they get those ridiculous faux Hawaiian shirts, stretch pants and giant sunglasses, he wondered, what were they thinking? He devised a name for their geezer ensembles, and reminded himself to see if it’d get a laugh out of Car when she arrived at the Isle for dinner that night: Last Resort Wear.

Shipwrecked on the Isle de Veau, Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3