Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Well, where do I begin?
Nearly three years in the making and here I am, finally in Montreal with my freshly wedded husband. After several months of stressing and preparing for the event, Matt and his parents flew into Dallas on September the 26th and had our little ceremony on Sunday, the 27th. Now, I have never been the type of gal to meticulously daydream about weddings, but I have to say that I was very pleased with how everything turned out. The food, weather, accommodations, and company were perfect...well, except for the fact that despite a mild weather prior to the wedding, it was 90 degrees outside during the ceremony...but I guess thats the blistering charm of Texas. I found it cute that Matt kept commenting on how our wedding was "very Gilmore Girls" with the gazebo and folksy venue. After all of the familial rituals Collete invited all my friends over to her place for one of those unforgettable evenings. Friends brought over bottles of my favorite wine, we sat outside in the atrium and chatted, then spent the rest of the night playing on Jamé's Casio making the most supreme of beats. Most nights ended that way at the casa de Collete...sitting on the bedroom floor playing music, making crafts or wrestling with the kitties.
Saying goodbye to Denton and all the friends I made has been one of the most challenging events in my life. That place felt like an old pair of jeans that fits just right. The people are warm and all know you by name or by whatever antics you're famous for. The white Christmas lights that are wrapped around the great oak trees on the square are on all year round. J&J's pizza rumbles with the sound of live music playing in the basement. There is always something exciting in the night-time air...its the energy of 30,000 twenty somethings planning something great, or just doing nothing at all. That little summer town was the perfect place for me to grow into myself.
Now I'm here in Montreal after a 4 day long car ride through much of the country that I have seen very little of...Its a side of America that I have always known about, but was never sure it really existed. Its those rolling hills dotted with red barns and silos like one of those painfully nostalgic Norman Rockwell paintings. Its a different type of Americana. But, I'll discuss that later. There has been enough change in my life to ramble on and on, so I'll spare you for the time being.