Celebrations

It has been nice to be home this past weekend to spend time with local friends. The past two weekends have been filled with birthday celebration and weddings #5 and #6. The first was my friend Colt's wedding at a Lavender farm in the picturesque Shenandoah Valley.

"A Lavender farm? Really Scott? That isn't very manly. I expect more from you."

Don't worry. The men wore flannel ties, there were mountains in the background, the groom was literally named after Samuel Colt's famous revolver, and the father of the groom goes by the name Snake. Try an tell me that isn't manly. Enjoy the pictures.

The second wedding was my friend Taylor's in Charleston, SC. I've never enjoyed Charleston before and I'm convinced that after last weekend and with the exception of June and July, I could live there. The Live Oaks, Spanish Moss, abundance of porches and amazing restaurants, walkable atmosphere, and waterfront views make Charleston a gorgeous place. I forgot my camera so the internet will provide all Charleston pics.

Taylor's wedding was at a country parish surrounded by these Live Oaks. If you know me, you know my love for anything country. The reception was what was really over the top. It was on Seabrook Island, a place I'm not sure I could ever afford to even breathe in. The view of the ocean and estuary was magnificent, full open bar, and delicious food. I know you are asking me, "Did you dance?" Heck yes I did. There was a wedding band, led by Issac Hayes' daughter, Heather. It was almost more like a concert. Her crew was awesome. Great food, great people, great cake, great dancing, great weekend.

Back at home, my roomate got a dog. His name is Spot and is an Australian Shepherd/Blue Heeler mix. He minds me so good, unlike Jobie. He is really chill and only gets excited at 5:00 am and at the first of the 3 of us to return from work. He is a great running companion, only making me look dumb when he zig-zags right in front of my legs. Halfway into our run today I stopped in a field to run some sprints. His slight yelps of encouragement made my urge to vomit a little more bearable. He almost never actually barks, only whimpers in sadness when we all leave. I guess that's a little separation anxiety. The best part: he doesn't poop when you take him on walks. I made it a life goal awhile back to not have to pick up dog poop. I'm higher on the food chain, so I feel entitled not to do that. So (knock on wood) I haven't had to pick up any of his feces yet. Lord willing, that trend will continue.