Travelling feels like some sort of time warp. I am back in my apartment and at my desk and a part of my brain feels like my wonderful week at home never happened. This is why I take pictures — to remember. 
I had a fantastic vacation. The wedding was just beautiful. The reception was the most fun reception I’ve ever been to, because I knew everyone there! I saw old neighbors, family friends, and many relatives. The reception could have been 10 times longer and I still would have been having a wonderful time. My family is the most awesome family in the world.
I am working on my photos, and should have most of them processed tonight. (It was dim enough in the church and reception that many of my photos need levels adjusted and noise removal since I shot at ISO 1600 quite a bit!) In the meantime, Brian posted a few photos on his moblog from the wedding. I like this one where you can see them coming down the stairs at the reception and this one where you can see me on the left as I was probably making eye contact with Katie before she threw the bouquet right at me. Yes, I caught the bouquet, which is even funnier when you hear that apparently the bouquet toss was momentarily delayed as they tried to find me. Awwww. (I was wandering around probably trying to get some water. Every time I tried to walk from one room to the drink room, it took at least 10 minutes because I couldn’t help talking to everyone on the way.)
Jen also posted some photos including one of Joel dancing with the wrong sister and one of the 207 roommates.
It’s nice to be back in my apartment, but it was nicer to be in Charlotte last week.
OH. Last night I had what could potentially be one of the more embarassing moments of my life. I say “potentially” because I don’t know for sure how long I was walking around with a HUGE RIP IN THE BUTT OF MY JEANS. I wore the jeans all day yesterday. I get off the plane in Houston, go into the bathroom, and while pulling my pants back up I notice that the fabric, which was pretty thin, has literally pulled away from the seam and just ripped into a gap about 4 inches long and an inch wide. Thank goodness I had a sweater in my bag to tie around my waist. The whole thing is bizarre and cartoonish. The jeans aren’t tight, so I guess they ripped when I bent over or sat down or something. It’s not a rip so much as it’s just like the fabric was worn out and just came apart — it’s not a hole, just like the weave of the jeans broke down. I would like to think that Carter or Kent or someone in my family would have mentioned it to me if they had noticed that I had, you know, a HUGE RIP IN THE BUTT OF MY JEANS, so I am hoping that they ripped on the airplane and that the only time I walked around flashing anyone was from the plane to the bathroom in Houston.
Geez.
I ripped a hole in my khakies about 2 minutes after walking into the MCC for Open House day once. I had to crab-walk against walls all the way to my office to get a sweater to tie around my waist. I got home and told Gavin the story.
Gavin: “Which underwear were you wearing?”
Me: “The Mickey Mouse ones.”
Gavin:
That last thing Gavin did was to laugh hysterically.