Marriage changes you, they say.

I spent my Saturday running back and forth between the bride's room and the groom's room, playing wedding photographer-imp in an aging green dress, shoes tight and clacking mercilessly against the tile floor. By virtue of my sex I was allowed in the bride's room, and through marriage and friendship was allowed to hang out in the groom's room.

Every person should be so lucky to have a glance like this on a day like this one.

To Rick and Jessica, on their wedding day, congratulations.

I'm going to file this statement under "death wish fulfillment":

It always seems to end like this; a time full of solitude ending with a drive to Atlanta, resulting in a Sunday-morning urge to write before the wakening of the house disturbs the morning quiet. Not a bad thing, really, for someone who has been suffering from something that, from the correct angle, holds a distinct resemblance of writer's block.

Your regularly-scheduled domesticat entry shall not appear here this evening, canceled due to sadly extraordinary life events. After a good bit of cross-checking with friends, we still don't know much about what happened, but what we do know is this: someone whom my friends and I have worked with on dragon*con tech staff, someone whom I probably would've called a friend on staff, has been charged with involuntary manslaughter.