“Visit. Comment. (sincerely comment) Read. Read. Read. And Then Read some more.”
Then comment some more.
Rinse and repeat.
Then the folks will come.
Works ever’ time.
And… it’s good for the soul.
Good for Our Community of Souls, some lost, some found, and all manner of in between, but there are no more appreciative for time spent than writers / bloggers.
So, therefore, Give a Little of Yourself to your lost and found, and searching fellow souls.
My first wife and I got married in Jaffa Israel, an ancient Phoenician Seaport just south of Tel Aviv. The ceremony was performed by a Baptist Minister from Oklahoma in a Presbyterian Church which was maintained by Catholic Missionaries from Sweden.
(Now that right there shoulda told us we were testing Providence)
There were but two witnesses. (Co-workers of ours from Sinai Field Mission who just happened to be in town)
Twenty minutes before the ceremony, my soon to-be-bride and I were hitting all the jewelry stores on Dizengoff Street shopping for wedding rings. Could not find any that suited us or fit.
The clerks always had the same response:
“No problem; I can have it resized and you may pick it up tomorrow.”
We anxiously explained, “But we are getting married in just a few minutes.”
Jewish weddings are a great big hairy deal; so naturally, we were met with gasps of shockedamazement when we announced our time constraint. We tried to explain we weren’t Jewish, but that took just too much time, so we ran from shop to shop.
We finally, and at the very last minute, settled on two plain gold bands (which did not fit), purchased from the jewelry shop in the hotel where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the ‘Wedding Party’.
We all proceeded to Jaffa. My bride was wearing a black dress and I was in blue jeans. My woman and I tied the knot, (loosely, as it turned out). I gave the Okie preacher fifty bucks and we split.
The marriage didn’t stick, but we remain friends to this day.
“Wedding Fail”
My next wedding took place in Las Vegas.
My Bride and I got hitched in a venue called ‘The Chapel of Love’.
An Elvis impersonator would perform the rites for two hundred bucks. (My woman was an Elvis fan, so what the hell). For fifty bucks more, he would sing ‘Love Me Tender’ A Capella. My girl, ever so frugal, suggested we pass on that.
If she had known that within just a few short hours I would be tossing black chips onto a craps table, she might have seriously considered his offer of serenade.
Next wedding was performed by a Justice of the Peace, who showed up two hours late due to some inescapable last-minute JP business which could not wait. By the time she arrived the Wedding Party (and I do mean ‘Party’) were all hopelessly drunk on Champagne. We did the deed and then all got hopelessly drunker. Several expensive champagne flûtes bit the dust that night, if memory serves… Was a great wedding, as those things go.
Last wedding took place in Eureka Springs, Arkansas and was just lovely.
“Eureka Springs, Arkansas has been in the romance business since day one. The city was officially incorporated on Valentine’s Day, February 14th, 1880—the Victorian Era–and since then has been a destination associated with beauty and romance. Today, Eureka Springs is the place to pledge your love–where romance thrives.”
None of these weddings took firm hold, I am sorry to say.
Apparently marriage to me is not much more binding than a hand-shake.
Now… Y’all. I am of course not making light of marriage. I do believe in its sanctity. (For other people) It just doesn’t appear to be right for This Cowboy.
My first wife and I got married in Jaffa Israel, an ancient Phoenician Seaport just south of Tel Aviv. The ceremony was performed by a Baptist Minister from Oklahoma in a Presbyterian Church which was maintained by Catholic Missionaries from Sweden.
(Now that right there shoulda told us we were testing Providence)
There were but two witnesses. (Co-workers of ours from Sinai Field Mission who just happened to be in town)
Twenty minutes before the ceremony, my soon to-be-bride and I were hitting all the jewelry stores on Dizengoff Street shopping for wedding rings. Could not find any that suited us or fit.
The clerks always had the same response:
“No problem; I can have it resized and you may pick it up tomorrow.”
We anxiously explained, “But we are getting married in just a few minutes.”
Jewish weddings are a great big hairy deal; so naturally, we were met with gasps of shockedamazement when we announced our time constraint. We tried to explain we weren’t Jewish, but that took just too much time, so we ran from shop to shop.
We finally, and at the very last minute, settled on two plain gold bands (which did not fit), purchased from the jewelry shop in the hotel where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the ‘Wedding Party’.
We all proceeded to Jaffa. My bride was wearing a black dress and I was in blue jeans. My woman and I tied the knot, (loosely, as it turned out). I gave the Okie preacher fifty bucks and we split.
The marriage didn’t stick, but we remain friends to this day.
My next wedding took place in Las Vegas.
My Bride and I got hitched in a venue called ‘The Chapel of Love’.
An Elvis impersonator performed the rites for two hundred bucks. (My woman was an Elvis fan, so what the hell). For fifty bucks more, he would sing ‘Love Me Tender’ A cappella. My girl, ever so frugal, suggested we pass on that.
If she had known that within just a few short hours I would be tossing black chips onto a craps table, she might have seriously considered his offer of serenade.
Next wedding was performed by a Justice of the Peace, who showed up two hours late due to some inescapable last-minute JP business which could not wait. By the time she arrived the Wedding Party (and I do mean ‘Party’) were all hopelessly drunk on Champagne. We did the deed and then all got hopelessly drunker. Several expensive champagne flûtes bit the dust that night, if memory serves… Was a great wedding, as those things go.
Last wedding took place in Arkansas and was just lovely.
None of these weddings took firm hold, I am sorry to say.
Apparently marriage to me is not much more binding than a hand-shake.
Now… Y’all. I am of course not making light of marriage. I do believe in its sanctity. (For other people) It just doesn’t appear to be right for This Cowboy.
“Visit. Comment. (sincerely comment) Read. Read. Read. And Then Read some more.”
Then comment some more.
Rinse and repeat.
Then the folks will come.
Works ever’ time.
And… it’s good for the soul.
Good for Our Community of Souls, some lost, some found, and all manner of in between, but there are no more appreciative for time spent than writers / bloggers.
So, therefore, Give a Little of Yourself to your lost and found, and searching fellow souls.
My first wife and I got married in Jaffa Israel, an ancient Phoenician Seaport just south of Tel Aviv. The ceremony was performed by a Baptist Minister from Oklahoma in a Presbyterian Church which was maintained by Catholic Missionaries from Sweden.
(Now that right there shoulda told us we were testing Providence)
There were but two witnesses. (Co-workers of ours from Sinai Field Mission who just happened to be in town)
Twenty minutes before the ceremony, my soon to-be-bride and I were hitting all the jewelry stores on Dizengoff Street shopping for wedding rings. Could not find any that suited us or fit.
The clerks always had the same response:
“No problem; I can have it resized and you may pick it up tomorrow.”
We anxiously explained, “But we are getting married in just a few minutes.”
Jewish weddings are a great big hairy deal; so naturally, we were met with gasps of shockedamazement when we announced our time constraint. We tried to explain we weren’t Jewish, but that took just too much time, so we ran from shop to shop.
We finally, and at the very last minute, settled on two plain gold bands (which did not fit), purchased from the jewelry shop in the hotel where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the ‘Wedding Party’.
We all proceeded to Jaffa. My bride was wearing a black dress and I was in blue jeans. My woman and I tied the knot, (loosely, as it turned out). I gave the Okie preacher fifty bucks and we split.
The marriage didn’t stick, but we remain friends to this day.
My next wedding took place in Las Vegas.
My Bride and I got hitched in a venue called ‘The Chapel of Love’.
An Elvis impersonator performed the rites for two hundred bucks. (My woman was an Elvis fan, so what the hell). For fifty bucks more, he would sing ‘Love Me Tender’ A cappella. My girl, ever so frugal, suggested we pass on that.
If she had known that within just a few short hours I would be tossing black chips onto a craps table, she might have seriously considered his offer of serenade.
Next wedding was performed by a Justice of the Peace, who showed up two hours late due to some inescapable last-minute JP business which could not wait. By the time she arrived the Wedding Party (and I do mean ‘Party’) were all hopelessly drunk on Champagne. We did the deed and then all got hopelessly drunker. Several expensive champagne flûtes bit the dust that night, if memory serves… Was a great wedding, as those things go.
Last wedding took place in Arkansas and was just lovely.
None of these weddings took firm hold, I am sorry to say.
Apparently marriage to me is not much more binding than a hand-shake.
Now… Y’all. I am of course not making light of marriage. I do believe in its sanctity. (For other people) It just doesn’t appear to be right for This Cowboy.
I generally spend a lot of time reading (and commenting) on the posts of my friends.
I have been remiss of late in this.
I would apologize, but one of my favorite blogger-friends advised me that if I ‘apologize’ I may seem less than a man.
Therefore, I will not apologize. (not that I value advice from a twenty-three-year-old pundit, but that I am forced, now, to reevaluate… some things…) I will just remark that tomorrow (now today) I will visit all y’all’s sites and try to contribute…
