There are many cliche noodles one could apply to life. I've had my fair share.
I am an observer mostly, and I shouldn?t be telling you this in any other way than a story.

Last night I went to a wedding. The face of the light that shines on these events is often too personal to believe. Sometimes it's forced, sometimes it's a German Mother in-law with too much to drink. I am the girlfriend of a friend of the groom. The groom has invited 20 some Bard alum to the wedding. Bards are not herd, nor pride, they are flock. A flock of Bard students perched on the stairs for a photograph. The bride too is part of this flock.

The bride and groom met in his garden, not at Bard. She had some flowers she wanted to plant and was introduced to his backyard. From here the allegorical, symbolic references escalate, it is all too sweet to be real but everything told in fairytales happens next.

I was in one crappy mood.
It was really too bad. My arm has been hurting for weeks, pinched or something and it brought on annoyance during the ceremony. Erin's feet hurt she wasn't smiling either.

But this is what I loved. I loved it when Gamble, standing at the alter, announced to his guests that after lighting their candles to please not blow out the match but rather put the matches in the water to extinguish them. Then he announced when he was beginning his vows and how happy he was to be Carrie's husband. Carrie was as equally exuberant and comfortable. She read an entry from her journal, 3 months after Gamble's first kiss. They were so themselves. The whole party relaxed in their presence.

Afterwards there was a big dinner and since it was raining the house remained packed sharing seating and filling eachothers wine glasses.

I never know how to end these things. We stayed late, hoping to wish the bride and groom well to cheer as the limo pulled out of our sights.
No one does that anymore.