My son took the photo at the top of this post with his cell phone. That’s my daughter and her husband doing their “first dance.” I think it’s a pretty cool picture.
The wedding was held at the Cincinnati Art Museum. The wedding itself was held in one of their courtyards outside. It was beautiful and the weather held.
For me, and as you know this blog is all about me (not always, but sometimes it is), the day was a happy one but also a little surreal.
I didn’t cry during the ceremony. I thought I would, but I didn’t. I think I was a little uptight as I wanted it all to go perfectly. I know my daughter wanted that too, so this became important to me. I was on pins and needles.
Know what? It did go perfect. I was a little bit late on “my line” in the ceremony, but I don’t think anybody noticed. Well, my son did, but he notices everything.
There was an open bar after the wedding. I had two and a half vodka and tonics. The “half” comes from telling the bartender to fill my last glass only halfway up. I didn’t want to get all bombed after my daughter’s wedding.
A dinner was held too. I had sea bass, probably the best I’ve ever tasted. I didn’t eat any of the cake—diabetic you know.
I saw people at that wedding that I haven’t seen in ages. There was my ex-father-in-law and aunts and cousins on my ex-wife’s side of the family. They all look older now, but I, of course, look exactly the same.
My younger brother flew in from Florida to attend the wedding. It was good hanging out with him as it had been too long.
I got home around 11:30. With the ceremony and the big day all being over, I was no longer on pins and needles. I sat at my desk for a little while and relaxed, and then I cried and then went to bed.
So there you go—a few details about my daughter’s big day. She called me yesterday to tell me that she loves me before going on her honeymoon. Just like the father that I am and always will be, I told her to “Be careful!”
I’m taking tomorrow off here, will be back on Wednesday. On that day, I’ll make sure that whatever I write isn’t all about me.
(Photo taken by my son)