somebody's getting married (and it's not me, smartass)!

the cobbler downstairs has misplaced my pointy boots. my treasured, much-worn and loved pointy boots. they have no idea where they are, much less whether they're going to be ready at the appointed time (1pm tomorrow, immediately before i leave town for the weekend) or not.

as though i weren't already having enough of a shoe crisis, bereft of any other shoe in my oeuvre that would properly complement the dress i'll be wearing! quelle scandale! quelle horreur!

seriously. this could be a problem. because this isn't just any weekend.

this weekend, dom and i are running off to massachusetts for the wedding of his former roommate to his ladylove--the first wedding of my adult life. i was eight years old the last time i showed up at one of these shindigs, when my father took the family to portugal to witness a family friend's very confusing, very portuguese wedding. i remember only snippets of that, including the extreme heat and my discovery that i liked pork, the blue and white tile floor in the cool, unlit church and the case of port that my father had us carry around the entire country before leaving it on the plane. somewhere in my personal effects back home, i have a silverplate swan-shaped ring holder and a crumpled piece of pink tulle to remind me of the experience, but that's about where the memories end. as such, my knowledge of the wedding process is hazy at best, full of big hair, cheek kisses and really frightening pantsuits.

so, really. particularly in light of krissa's impending marriage, i'm glad that i'm getting this opportunity to learn first-hand about american weddings, because nobody should ever rely on information they've gleaned exclusively from the television and/or websites they've had to cruise for work (yes, work. shut up).

also, i really just want to see one of those dresses in the flesh wish them the best of luck in person.