Older Than the Trees, Younger Than the Mountains

Andrés and I (and Ruby!) took a trip to my parent’s vacation home (the front windows of which can be seen in the first picture) in the mountains this past weekend to attend a Bluegrass Festival and to meet with the pastor who will marry us.

I love being up there. The air is crisp, it’s consistently about 10 degrees cooler, and life just slows down a little. I drank coffee from a French press and I don’t even like coffee. I’d never want to live there because I can’t imagine that kind of seclusion every day, but I sure do love to vacation in cabins in the mountains.

We read over the ceremony (which is about 12 minutes without adding in any songs) and our vows, and talked about the paperwork side of getting married. There was this holy-shit-this-is-real moment for me. Not in a freak-out-cold-feet kind of way… in a I-can’t-wait-to-marry-him! kind of way.

Ruby hated the ride. We drugged her with anti-nausea medicine from the vet, which did prevent her from throwing up every 15 minutes of the 4 hour drive, but she instead drooled the entire trip. The backseat of my car was covered in puddles. Poor thing. We’re going to work with her to get her over her car anxiety.

On the way back we met with our DJ, who is quite a character. He’s a 10th degree black belt in Aikido, a US Marshall, an ordained minister, ex celebrity body guard, and a landlord! He also used to be a body double for Garth Brooks. And has hand tattoos. THIS GUY. Right? I’m looking forward to him DJing our wedding.


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