Take my hand. Take my whole life, too.

Two years ago today, on a greyish, freshish, maybe-it-will-maybe-it-won't-rain (but if it does it's good luck)-ish day, I did the following.

Got up and ironed the shawls one last time and put them in bags.

Picked up Jen and headed to the salon.

Got my hair all sleeked down curled up and sprayed sprayed sprayed - with an extra can for intermittent spraying throughout the day!

Headed to the fancy schmancy were-assholes-to-work-with-but-in-the-end-it-was-worth-it-because-boy-is-it-stunning location.

Drank champagne and chatted with my dearest friends.

Put on my mama's white dress and headed downstairs.
Walked down the aisle with my dad.

Had the most personal, wonderful ceremony.

Promised to love Nick for the rest of my life.

And I do. And I will.

I said it was the best day of my life. And it was.

What I didn't know then was that it was just going to keep getting better.