goin' to the chapel...... at 1.5 miles an hour

On Sunday Dan and i cordially attended the wedding of Becky and Eric, who were married on the beach in Newport in the presence of family, friends, and bikini-clad onlookers. The reception took place at a beach house-style hall, complete with working carousel and patio overlooking the ocean. If the band weren't deafeningly irritating, it would have been the perfect event!

The real story occurred when we were driving home. We left the party at 10:15, figuring we'd be home by midnight judging by our earlier driving time. After we got on 95, however, we found traffic at a complete stop. Complete stop in the middle of the night? you ask. Yes, dead stop, with hundreds of cars filled with drunk concert goers throwing bottles and spewing obscenities. It turned out crews had closed three lanes of 95 for paving, conveniently the same night as the biggest concert of the year in Foxborough. At about 12:30 we pulled off the road to check the map and so that i could dry-heave on the sidewalk. There was no other way to go put through this major highway that had become a parking lot. Our quaint little evening drive took us three and a half hours, and at 1:45am when we finally got home, we were both judging distance to the bushes for vomiting potential.

Dan and i slept most of the day yesterday to recover, although Dan is still wary of me using the F-word (Food) or speaking about anything that we ate at the wedding. In the future, just thinking about Newport will make our stomachs turn.

hitting the bottle

Leah regularly drinks a fair amount of bottled water, in the 28-ounce sport bottle size, so when we put our recycle bin out at the curb it often contains a fair number of the bottles. This week, though, we've outdone ourselves with two recycle bins, a laundry basket, a large plastic container, and a regular old wicker basket full of the things. What must the neighbors think? It's not our fault, though: our roommate works as a personal trainer and she brought all the trash from her gym home to keep our personal trash company. The scary thing is, it's not that far off what we could produce ourselves!