Whoa-ho! Look who came a-hoppin' out of storage tonight! 
It's angry rubber-face guy! Filler of many a Christmas stocking and boring afternoon. Back in the day, angry rubber-face guy could make a Holland child laugh within seconds, and somehow there's always been one around wherever it is I live. Who knew fifteen cents worth of rubber could be so entertaining? And quit with the Trojan jokes, wiseass.
Back to our wedding recap, already in progress:
After the calorie-loading at Cracker Barrel, we headed back to the house, where I assembled my digital arsenal. DV camcorder? Check. Digital still camera? Got it. Extra DV tapes? Yup. Plenty of Smartmedia cards? Of course. Charged batteries? You know it. Pack mule? Uh... I knew I forgot something.
Climbing into my monkey suit (I'd like to thank my mother for countless hours in department store outlet stores – at least I had some inkling of where to go for an inexpensive suit), I climbed into the back of Tanya's Saturn. (Hey, it's her name on the loan paperwork.) We were off to the church.
Directions were pretty much right on target – turn right shortly after the KFC – and we arrived to find Jennifer sequestered with her bridesmaids in a big white limo out front. Seeing my dad stationed out front with his digital camera (no need for me to duplicate the pictures he would take), I went to secure seats in the family section on the groom's side. Naturally, there were more people on the bride's side – it was her hometown, after all – but I think Geoffrey's side filled out nicely. They were all people I didn't recognize, so I figured they were fraternity brothers and other college folk with whom Geoffrey had forged bonds by doing ridiculous things in various stages of inebriation. Those are, after all, the sorts of people one invites to a wedding.
The wedding wasn't short, but it wasn't bad for an Episcopal service. Some sitting, some standing, and a short communion that most people sat out. I went down and had a bit of bread and wine. I figured I should get my face time in with God while I was there, so it wouldn't be a wasted trip.
Soon thereafter, the newest Mr. and Mrs. Holland walked out of the church and let the throng blow bubbles at them before they went back into the church for the traditional torture of wedding pictures. We stood in for a few of those and then left for the reception at a country club just over the bridge on the mainland side. The food was mighty fine, especially the cake, which takes the prize for most unusual wedding cake I've seen.
Benjamin, youngest of the Holland boys and the best man, had to leave about halfway through the reception to drive his friend (girlfriend?) Rachel back to school in Virginia. Benjamin has always been slippery at family gatherings, usually off with friends or watching TV while the rest of us drink beer and hang out in the living room. He probably thinks we don't notice his absence, but I do. Geoffrey seems to know him pretty well, though, since they both lived in Rock Hill, SC, for a while. It's nice to think that someone in the family knows him. I didn't get much of a chance, since I left for college when he was ten and I don't think he and I were destined to be buddies at that stage. (Whenever I see him, I want to apologize for being such a crappy older brother.) He still fascinates me though, in part because he seems so inaccessible. And because he's one hell of a bowler.
As these things do, the reception wound down, and Jennifer threw her bouquet. One of the bridesmaids caught it, and it might have been the one who earned the nickname "crotch-digger" (not my term, although I'll leave its originator safely anonymous) for her bizarrely inappropriate habit of yanking at her panty hose in public. Honey, it's a pretty tight dress. If you have to adjust something, there are restrooms available for the purpose.
Lord, I hope my new sister-in-law doesn't read this.
Next time: hangin' at the Piggly Wiggly, Pamela's frightful hair, and a walk in the dark.
It's angry rubber-face guy! Filler of many a Christmas stocking and boring afternoon. Back in the day, angry rubber-face guy could make a Holland child laugh within seconds, and somehow there's always been one around wherever it is I live. Who knew fifteen cents worth of rubber could be so entertaining? And quit with the Trojan jokes, wiseass.
Back to our wedding recap, already in progress:
After the calorie-loading at Cracker Barrel, we headed back to the house, where I assembled my digital arsenal. DV camcorder? Check. Digital still camera? Got it. Extra DV tapes? Yup. Plenty of Smartmedia cards? Of course. Charged batteries? You know it. Pack mule? Uh... I knew I forgot something.
Climbing into my monkey suit (I'd like to thank my mother for countless hours in department store outlet stores – at least I had some inkling of where to go for an inexpensive suit), I climbed into the back of Tanya's Saturn. (Hey, it's her name on the loan paperwork.) We were off to the church.
Directions were pretty much right on target – turn right shortly after the KFC – and we arrived to find Jennifer sequestered with her bridesmaids in a big white limo out front. Seeing my dad stationed out front with his digital camera (no need for me to duplicate the pictures he would take), I went to secure seats in the family section on the groom's side. Naturally, there were more people on the bride's side – it was her hometown, after all – but I think Geoffrey's side filled out nicely. They were all people I didn't recognize, so I figured they were fraternity brothers and other college folk with whom Geoffrey had forged bonds by doing ridiculous things in various stages of inebriation. Those are, after all, the sorts of people one invites to a wedding.
The wedding wasn't short, but it wasn't bad for an Episcopal service. Some sitting, some standing, and a short communion that most people sat out. I went down and had a bit of bread and wine. I figured I should get my face time in with God while I was there, so it wouldn't be a wasted trip.
Soon thereafter, the newest Mr. and Mrs. Holland walked out of the church and let the throng blow bubbles at them before they went back into the church for the traditional torture of wedding pictures. We stood in for a few of those and then left for the reception at a country club just over the bridge on the mainland side. The food was mighty fine, especially the cake, which takes the prize for most unusual wedding cake I've seen.
Benjamin, youngest of the Holland boys and the best man, had to leave about halfway through the reception to drive his friend (girlfriend?) Rachel back to school in Virginia. Benjamin has always been slippery at family gatherings, usually off with friends or watching TV while the rest of us drink beer and hang out in the living room. He probably thinks we don't notice his absence, but I do. Geoffrey seems to know him pretty well, though, since they both lived in Rock Hill, SC, for a while. It's nice to think that someone in the family knows him. I didn't get much of a chance, since I left for college when he was ten and I don't think he and I were destined to be buddies at that stage. (Whenever I see him, I want to apologize for being such a crappy older brother.) He still fascinates me though, in part because he seems so inaccessible. And because he's one hell of a bowler.
As these things do, the reception wound down, and Jennifer threw her bouquet. One of the bridesmaids caught it, and it might have been the one who earned the nickname "crotch-digger" (not my term, although I'll leave its originator safely anonymous) for her bizarrely inappropriate habit of yanking at her panty hose in public. Honey, it's a pretty tight dress. If you have to adjust something, there are restrooms available for the purpose.
Lord, I hope my new sister-in-law doesn't read this.
Next time: hangin' at the Piggly Wiggly, Pamela's frightful hair, and a walk in the dark.
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