Wordless Wednesday: OB

These Two

These two.

Want to know how they got to here?:

Well, it all started here . . .

. . . Yes, most things start with Bruce combing his boy's hair . . .

. . . and tying his boy's shoes . . .

The shoes!

Oh, the handsomeness.

Ready for the Big Day, guys?

"Why are we going in here?"

"Because Daddy's thirsty."

Bruce's boys are a great team. Oh those brothers . . .

. . . and the brothers' brothers? What a delightful crew.

I know, I know, they can't help themselves; they're engineers.

And then!

Photography at the ceremony itself was verboten. Officially. But Mistah snuck a last one in before It All Started . . .

Bruce and I had fun waiting under the cupola together -- and by "fun" I mean freaking out while watching 160 people descend upon us. "I wondered what 160 would look like in here." "Dude, they're still pouring in."

And then?

Showtime.

Do you? I do. 

Will you? I will.

By the power of your love . . .

. . . because you are so deeply and vastly awesome . . .

. . . you may kiss The Groom.

Cue: angels singing

Can you see everybody? All three kids, back there behind Bruce and Teresa. And me breathing a gigantic sigh of relief. And the 160 peeps on the other side of the camera.

And then?

Par-Tay.

Neighbors . . .

. . . Short-Timers . . .

. . . just too gorgeous . . .

. . . all of them . . .

 . . . . deeply, fabulously gorgeous.

 And Deedee was brilliant . . .

 Plus? Her shoes.

We were an exuberant bunch.

We exude exuberance.

 The Flowers . . .

 The Room . . .

. . . The Hair.

Let's Go Mets!

These kids. They've been friends forevah. They are the kids in the world who make you happy that there are kids in the world.

And then . . . 

Cake!

Waiting all night long for that cake.


And toasts!

Doug hit it out of the ballpark.

These two. I mean, seriously. Can you stand how stunning?

We do not condone smoking here at M&Y&E . . .

. . . but we appreciate it when it makes for cool Full Moon photos.

And then the dancing. The Dancing!

And the Greek Dancing.

George led the way . . .

. . . and Mistah had Fun With Photography . . .

. . . he does that.

But all night, the whole time, it was about these two . . .

 Doesn't this remind you of that Renoir?

I know; me too.

Except Teresa has better shoes.

The Bride and the Groom's parents were spectacular -- all still with us, all still with eachother, all still happy . . .  and all not in any of these photos. But they played a crucial and gorgeous part in the proceedings. I adore them all.

Plus Bruce's lovely Lebanese Dad reminds me of -- go figure -- my lovely Lebanese Dad.

And then . . .

 . . . the night was over . . .

 . . . Oh wait! Not quite yet.

There is a reason uber was invented.

It was beautiful. It was epic. It was perfect.

Thank you, Bruce and Teresa.

May I repeat? May you enjoy a long, happy, beautiful, married life together.

Love you both. Big.

flashback friday: secret beach

MONDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2009

secret beach

My Sunday got off to a rocky start because a certain fool child of mine foiled the plans I had for a really good lunch. I won't bore you with allof the gory details, but suffice it to say that items complimentary to a certain bowl of leftie chili were purchased during a hungry, post-gym grocery run, yet what did I find upon my return? Someone had helped himself to the chili, which is annoying but forgiveable... but then he didn't eat it, and instead of putting it back in the fridge for me or any other person on this earth to enjoy, he put it in the sink where it was promptly filled with water. I nearly killed him. And then I yelled at him for telling me that he'd used up all the halloween blood and we needed to buy more. I angrily told him that he was a very wasteful person and suggested that he steer clear of me for a while. At least until I found something acceptable to eat.

Later, the kids cautiously approached me and asked if we could go to the beach. I assumed that this was a peace offering, because my kids know that nothing soothes a savage mommy like sand between her toes by the big, blue sea. Then they reminded me that last weekend I had promised that the very next time we went to the beach, we would set out to find the secret beach. 

I might be mean when they eat my chili, but I'm usually good for a promise. So we parked at the beach in the usual spot, but instead of ambling down toward the sand and surf before us, we headed south in search of the secret beach that my boy had visited one day when he was at the beach with friends.

We started off toward the pier


and then continued right past that bad boy, pausing to look back at our regular stomping grounds

Secret? Yes. Secluded? Not so much. This area of the cliffs was crawling with peeps, perhaps due to the conspicuous absence of booze prohibiting life guards. And me without my cooler.

.

While we traversed the moon-like, criminally damaged cliffs, my boy eagerly described the passageways we would soon encounter. I was dubious.

.

But then we arrived here...

and emerged here:

The Secret Beach!

Always strategizing, these two

.

What a great spot. So what if it is just as easily reached by street and staircase ... our route was so much more adventurous! The kids swam and jumped and scrambled and gave me heart attacks and then went back and jumped some more. It was a really special, unexpected afternoon.

We celebrated our triumphant return with fish tacos, fries, and a screwdriver.

Chili? What chili?