Wedding Report

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I know, I know, so little mrpeenee news of late. I’ve been so distracted what with the wedding, the big party to celebrate the wedding and bronchitis to make the entire thing more challenging. Also, the cat keeps puking. But be assured my darlings, my thoughts are with you always, always.

The wedding? Fabooski. We got there on time and then stood around FOREVER in the clerks office waiting our turn. We met commissioner Mary Ortez who married us and she was a sweetie. She was very firm that we needed to exchange rings as part of the ceremony, which we hadn’t planned to do, but she said it was the best part, so, being good sports, we went along with it and she was right. Not that I actually remember the ceremony, it’s all sort of a blur now, but I do remember being struck with how charming and sweet without being saccharine it was. We stood at the top of the big stairs under the rotunda, right in front of the bust of Harvey Milk (how appropriate) with our best friends beside us
and I patted R Man on his beard and then, somehow, we were married. It doesn’t feel any different, but I like it anyway.

Lunch at One Market was terrific.

We ran around like crazy mad monkeys on Friday getting ready for the party on Saturday which, by the time it started, had worn me to a frazzled mess (and I was sick) but once it got under way, I had a good time and was vastly amused by all our friends. I just wish you could have been there. We wound up having burritos for everybody who stuck it out. Mmmm, burritos.

I’ve reveled in my newlywed bliss since then by coughing vigorously (it’s become something of a hobby,) taking Vicodan, and napping. I went back tot he doctor today and he said the stuff in my lungs (I believe the technical term is “snot”) is still there, hanging around like it doesn’t have anything better to do. I’m annoyed, but I’m also through with errands, so I’m taking to my bed to recuperate. If you want me, I’ll be filed under “Mimi Violetta.”

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

11 responses »

  1. Good lord – all that and bronchitis. And me who lies flat for four days if I have a sniffle.Glad it was such a success, and can’t wait until Mr. M. and can follow in your footsteps…

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  2. Congrats to both Mr. P and Mr. R Man. Miss J is delighted to see the pics of the grooms and all the guests.For christ’s sake, get that doc to give you some f’ing antibiotics! And get better soon. This is no way to spend your honeymoon.

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  3. All lovely. So fine. Really sweet and heart-warming; I am deeply moved by this post. It’s a reality that I may not ever have. I don’t know. Shit, I’m rambling. You’ve touched something in me… so…anyway…like, who caught YOUR garter? And was there cake?!?(handsome couple, you guys)

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