Lucky 13!

Thirteen years ago Jeff and I went down into Grand Caverns as single persons and emerged a married couple. I know, I know. It's so kitsch to get married in a cave. Except it was just perfect for us. Outside on that early August evening it was 95 degrees with probably 95% humidity. Inside the cave, a nice, cool 60 degrees or so. Maybe even fewer. The candlelit limestone ballroom deep beneath the rolling hills of the Shenandoah Valley was beautiful, and the music reverberated through the chamber as if it were written to be played there.

And here we are, thirteen years later, happy and healthy and hoping for many, many more years together.

A bit of trivia. Although it appears that the photographer captured a moment of starry-eyed, lovey-dovey eye-making in this snap, the reality is that Jeff has just told me that the air conditioning in our car made a squealing sound and died just as he drove off to the cave. My smile is in transition towards a very worried look indeed!

Here are a few more pictures of the festivities:

We danced...

we dined (although I don't have a picture of us scarfing down pizza, which was what we served (it's a long story...)

and we drank the evening away.

Then we headed off to ride go-karts and face the happily ever after.



Oh--and for the big finish? We went to dinner tonight at Prairie Moon up in Evanston (lovely spot--great wine, excellent food!), and as fate would have it, we headed home in the midst of a raging thunderstorm, complete with tornado warning! Yes! Warning. None of your wimpy watches for us. We actually found a parking spot on our block, and we sat for a moment or two waiting for the deluge to abate. Then, in the middle of a particularly flashy lightning display, we realized that the car we were sheltering in was parked right under a big tree. We hauled it (I mean, our own keisters, not the car) down the block and into the building, but not before we got DRENCHED. Ah well, at least the run helped us digest all that great food...