Lynnette and I were fortunate to attend Travis and Joy’s wedding this past Sunday. Matty, Travis, Lynnette, and I all worked together at Pearl City District Park at some point in the early 2000s. Matty and Travis became full-fledged leaders after Lynnette and I left the program. Back before Lynnette and I were married, we’d sometimes wake up from naps at my parents house and hear Matty’s voice and a voice who belonged to someone who didn’t live in the house. We’d peek into the room and see Matty and Travis huddled around a small tv, button-mashing their way through a game based in the Marvel Universe. Lynnette and I had only met Joy a handful of times before Sunday night. It was a beautiful wedding featuring great music, awesome food, and a garter toss in which light sabers were used to catch the garter. I turned to Lynnette and said, “Let’s just add this to this list of reasons it sucks to be married.” I was joking of course. Barely.
Travis and Joy, we wish you all the best in the days ahead. Thank you so much for inviting us to share the day with you. For a few minutes there, it was just like old times – with fancier clothes and without rubber balls.
The wedding afforded Lynnette and I the opportunity to partake in one of our favorite hobbies: photoboothing. The key to great photo boothing is planning. First, you have to take note of the props available to you. Once you’ve decided on a theme or collection of nonsense to wear into the booth, you have to figure out how many photos will be taken in a single sitting. In this case, we knew the count to be four. Then, you plan out the poses while waiting in line. “But Phil,” you might object, “isn’t the point of the photobooth to be spontaneous and to have fun?” “Yes,” I would reply, “with the caveat that ‘spontaneous’ does not equal ‘fun.'” You’re welcome.
My favorite aspect of these photos is the turkey. As you know, one of Madison’s many nicknames is Turkey. As soon as Lynnette saw the prop, she said “How could we not?” I love how Lynnette was trying to shred a guitar solo in the last photo, but fretted the turkey’s wattle instead. She’s the best. A very close second is Lynnette’s face in the third photo. It screams “Sex…that you’re not going to have.”
But despite all of our posing and props, neither Lynnette nor I are as cute as Abby is looking these days. Lynnette spent most of Sunday morning in the bathroom with Abby siting in the sink. Lynnette buzzed and trimmed away. What seemed like an eternity later, I heard Lynnette call me over. This is what was waiting for me in the tub. LOOK AT HOW FRICKIN’ CUTE THIS DOG IS! I was caught off-guard by Abby’s new cuteness – as opposed to the homeless look she’d been rocking for weeks – and I started doing that thing where my voice went up about 6 trillion octaves and I started saying things (in that voice) like “Look at this cute _______________ (expletive deleted)!” and “This __________________ (expletive deleted) dog is one cutie!” Not my finest moment, but LOOK AT HOW FRICKIN’ CUTE THIS DOG IS!