Sunday, January 22, 2012
The other night, Bridgette was reading some bridal magazine she picked up and I was browsing a wedding-for-dummies book. Our reading turned a bit silly as we started to dream up what kind of hors d'ouevres we would like (chilli pepper watermelon?), drinks to serve (this idea may actually get implemented, so you'll have to wait for the surprise), and a grand buffet of world cuisine (ha!). And somehow a yurt got thrown in to the mix as a possible dinner location. As you can see, our heads were under control of our stomachs during that conversation.
(For those wondering, we're still tyring to lock down a location, so no big news ... yet.)
Reading done, lights out, slumber under way, we both had some interesting sleep. My dreams consisted of a miniature dog in danger of being eaten by spiders, which made me late for dressing for the wedding. I rushed into my bedroom to don my attire, where my brothers were also preparing, one wearing all red with yellow suspenders. Bridgette, that same night, dreamed of a dirty, tattered dress. To make it really a nightmare, she was wearing it and discovered that it minimally covered key areas for decency. So imagine a tattered, mud-soaked gown whose back was more akin to a scanty bikini.
Fortunately, we've recovered from the restless night. Unfortunately, I'm sure it's only the first of many to come.