On Anniversaries

9 years ago today, in a backyard in Arvada, Colorado, Josh married some girl named Lori. And in the end, it didn't count, legally speaking, and he had to marry me again later.

My wedding made very little sense. We are both Atheists and not only did we have a Jungian minister officiate, I made my very best friend in the whole world read all of the filthy passages from the Song Of Solomon at the ceremony. In front of her mother. Dude, I totally apologize.

She's so freaking hot. So is the guy, but he is a Buddhist minister and it's just not nice to say those thing about a man of the cloth. Even though I kinda accidentally saw his wiener the morning of the wedding. Another story, another day.

(It was 237 degrees out that day and everyone but me was dressed in black. Ouch.)

My dad, who, by the way, looks incredible in a tux. walked my to my doom.

I'm sure you're wondering what sage bits of wisdom he's imparting to me on my last walk as a single girl right there. He said, "You know, we don't actually have to do this. We could just turn around right now and go get a cheeseburger. It's your wedding; no one could stop you."

No, he wasn't getting off that easy. He handed me over, however begrudgingly,

and the ceremony began. Vows were exchanged. And Paige, the minister, Josh's mother's close friend, asked if he, Josh, took Lori to be his wife.

Lori.

We giggled, everyone giggled, and he said yes.

And then I signed the marriage certificate on the wrong line, the groom's line, making the form null and void. It takes a while to get a new one, and so we weren't officially, technically. as far as Colorado the State was concerned, married for a few weeks after.

Afterwards, we took some pictures of everyone, and Josh's best friend, the guy on his knee, right there in front of Josh and god and everyone, stuck his hand straight up my skirt and grabbed my ass.

That's one of those things you totally forget about unless someone snaps a picture.

Josh's entire family on his mother's side showed up. Distant cousins and aunts from Canada flew in. People from Oregon and California came.

My family picture? Slightly smaller. And why on Earth my dad's wife though that a 1960's living room curtain was an appropriate wedding outfit, I will never know.
My very good friend, and florist for the day, announced to every one of our mutual friends that he had AIDS. Right there at my wedding. My sister-in-law brought an 8-ball to the reception. My dad made my brother stand behind a video camera the whole time. The guys all lit up huge cigars and huger joints in my step-grandfather's camper. One of my bridesmaids cheated on her boyfriend of 5 bazillion years with the hot Buddhist minister, also in my step-grandfathers camper. Josh and I got into such a fight that night that I packed my bags that night at our hotel and left.

Not your typical wedding. But that's the stuff that memories are made of, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
UPDATE: Blanks kindly filled in by Molly. I knew I was forgetting a few things.