It shouldn't surprise me, being that I met my husband via America On-Line, but somehow the shock is still there every time the world as it appears on my computer screen intersects with the world that lives and breathes and smells and shrieks around me.
A blogger I know named Lauren wedded an Irishman named Sean in a nature preserve before the snow started to fall on Saturday. She was protected from the elements by a gazebo, by Sean, and by a fur trimmed coat that The Boss tells me is something a snow princess would wear.
The thing about the coat--the thing that intersects--is the fact that it was sitting in my own closet just a few days ago. It never occurred to me when I first stumbled upon Lauren's blog three years ago that this wiry, red-haired artist would be making her wedding vows while wearing "something old"--in this case, vintage 70s--from me.
Lauren came over my house on the Thursday before her wedding and mentioned that she had to go shopping for a coat. It seemed that the strapless wedding dress she planned to wear was not likely to stand up to an outdoor ceremony in January, in New England.
I nodded at her dilemma and tucked it away in the back of my head for most of her visit until, seemingly out of nowhere, I said:
"I have an interesting coat."
The momentum of speaking the words propelled me toward the closet, where I grabbed the leather, fur-trimmed ode to Mother Russia by way of Detroit, circa 1978. I paused only a second behind the open door, which shielded me from the living room, before slamming it shut with gusto and proceeding boldly to where Lauren, The Partner, The Boss and Number Two awaited.
I really didn't know what she would think, or if she would seriously consider wearing it. But it's a fun coat, and Lauren's a fun person (I'm not the only one who thinks so; Sean said it himself, and he would know) so I was laying it out there.
Much laughter ensued. There was talk of the coat's resemblance to the backseat of an old car. There was the forced sniffing of musty fur. There was modeling. The leather, aged and soft, fell smoothly over her tiny frame and a chest that had my 8 month-old-son drooling.
I secretly thought it was perfect, but I sent her out the door that night--she was still wearing it, underneath the coat she'd arrived in--hoping maybe she'd come to that conclusion herself.
Which she did.
Photo by Sean
Later, I watched the wedding unfold in video, photos and words on her blog. It's a friendship I couldn't have imagined just a few years ago; it's a technological way of life that could not have been foreseen when the coat came off the rack last century.
Here's to wifey with a weblog and her much documented, much doting new husband. Best wishes for a long life together layered in love, spontaneity, excitement, and gentle surprises.