doodledee

We went to the wedding of Mr. and Dr. Dowma on Friday night. It was fun, as I find most weddings to be.

At the reception we were as assigned-seated at a table with a bunch of people who had flown in from San Francisco. Most of them had slung code with Dowma back during the bubble. They were a total hoot. And amazingly, they were all gainfully employed technologists, though obviously not at the same place they were working 4 years ago. I mean seriously, only a total idiot would still be clinging to the fake safety of his/her pre-boom job. The internet is dead, long live the internet.

Anyway.

Something was jacked-up with the A/C in the reception hall and - according to the unsociable yet polite staff - it was only operable in two modes: 'off' and 'tundra'. Being July in Minnesota, 'off' wasn't really an option, so they cranked it up and in short order chilled the room down to about 45 degrees. Cold, yes, but it was hardly an evening wrecker, as it gave me the chance to exercise my gentlemanly mojo by sharing my suit jacket with several shivering cocktail dress wearing ladies in the room. Ladies, you're welcome. And for those of you who took a raincheck on the slow-dance offer, just a reminder: those things do have an expiration date. And after checking with Libby, I found out it was yesterday. Curses.

Speaking of Libby, I'd like to rewind to the churchy portion of the program. During the sermon thing, the reverend dude broke out some schpeil about how anyone who has been married for more than 10 minutes will tell you that a marriage has good days and bad days. (Genius!) Well that got me to thinking about my marriage, though strangely not at all in the context in which he was sermonizing. Instead, I started to think of things about Libby that have surprised me in the 10+ minutes we've been together.

Well, after spending the better portion of a day chewing it over, I've settled on what is unquestionably my biggest post-marriage Libby surprise.

She won't give high-fives.

"They're a stupid guy thing," is what she usually offers by way of an explanation.

"Well sure they are! And I'm a stupid guy! So what's the problem?!" is my usual comeback, delivered more often than not with my hand raised in the air, braced for contact, as though this time she might actually think the killer Captain Crunch coupon I just clipped deserves recognition by hand slap. But alas.

I can't even begin to count the number of times I've been left hanging over the years. It's gotta be like a million by now. And I'm still surprised each and every time.