The bride wore polka dots.
The first wedding was at City Hall.
The second: an old and echoing church.
Ringing bells and throwing rose petals.
At the reception (held in a centuries-old stone farmhouse), each table was adorned with an
illustration of a famous film couple. Ours was, of course, Han and Leia (geeks represent!).
In France, the custom is not so much a wedding cake as it is a tower
of caramel-encrusted choux -- in this case, flaming with sparklers.
The disintegrating quality of the photos as the day wore on has nothing whatsoever to do with the
three? four? glasses of wine and champagne I consumed that evening. Nothing whatsoever.
After dessert there was dancing, and round about the time the 40's swing tunes gave way
to 80's era Madonna, my feet decided they'd had enough of this wearing heels business and
were crying out for the comfort of slippers. And so with bisous and felicitations! to the bride
and groom we bid adieu to the party, slipped out into the cold night and headed home.