Seeing how long the last entry was, I'll try to wrap this wedding thing up.

Ceremony was very nice, a mix of Catholic and Protestant traditions. Matt's dad gave the sermon, and looked a little imaptient while we Catholics were singing our allelulias before the Gospel reading. I suppose they don't do that. You could also pick out the Prots in the group who wanted to keep going with the Our Father after we stop.

The real entertainment started when we left the church. Now, I've spent the better part of my life as the navigator, the person who uses the map and/or directions, and usually do pretty well. This time, not so much. As we were leaving, the 3 or 4 cars in front turned left, opposite of the directions. I figure we should follow them, as they were locals (some of Allyson's extended family) and knew where they were going.

They did know where they were going. It just turned out that where they were going was the CVS in Blackstone, not the Franklin Country Club. My next mistake was then not waiting for them to resume following, but going back to the church to start fresh. Compounding things were the two cars following us, full of BUCB types who would be so understanding of our mix up. Of course.

We got back to the church, started to follow the directions (after a missed turn or two getting back to the church). We proceed to a street we need, next to the National Marker Company (why does that name sound like a front for the CIA?). I've already read out these name, and instead of turning, Sarah does her thing where she repeats the street name as a question. We pass the street. After that, we stopped being in the lead. And talking, though that sorted itself out.

So I was late for the picture taking, but no worries as they were still on Matt, Allyson, and their family. Two problems during this:

1. TOO COLD! Lots of wind, temps in the low 50s if that. Not so bad for those of us in tuxes, but the bridesmaids had to go back to their cars for whatever they could find (yes, coat offers were made, we're not philistines here).

2. The pictures were being done near the 18th green. You'd think golfers would hold off. No. During a set of photos, a ball lands about 10 feet from where Matt and Allyson are standing (thankfully, the SOB found the trap). No warning, no call of "fore" that we could tell. So when that jackass when to hit, we started coughing when he got to the top of his backswing. Still made the shot, but I like to think he was farther from the pin.

The reception was marked by an encore of the Chicken Dance, which is apparently a family favorite on Allyson's side. There was also a "Gonga Line" (for the Gongaleski family, which makes up a lot of Allyson's extended family) with limbo pole. It was also marked by a plot between me, Sarah, and the Bruce to get Jon Couture to dance with his "pseudo-girlfriend" (his description!). And the slow dances, not just the White Man's Overbite dances. Mission accomplished, though Jon may just be the whitest guy I know.

Oh, and there was also a really pathetic circle dance to "God Bless the USA" or "Proud to be an American" or whatever that lousy Lee Greenwood song is. You've heard it. The DJ also did a lousy job of trying to tie it in.

And there was a polka. Not only was there a polka, but people danced to it. And not just old folks, but people my own age (and younger!). One of the other ushers, a cousin of Allyson's, was married over the summer, and they danced no fewer than six of them.

And that was about it. We went back to the hotel, a bunch of us had pizza (such is the nightlife in Medway or wherever the hell we were). And as much as I enjoyed being with friends and seeing those close to me enter into matrimony, I was never as glad as last weekend, when I was on call and didn't have to leave the apartment if I didn't want to.