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We went to an out-of-town wedding over the weekend. Actually, it wasn’t so much out-of-town, as out-in-the-country. Some excerpts from our trip:

Me: “Watch out for the Amish buggy!”
Husband: “My god, could these people drive any slower?”
Me: “My god, look at the traffic.” We pass two cars going in the opposite direction.
Me: “Watch out there’s a cop.” 45 seconds later: “Watch out there’s a cop.”
Husband: “Does this church have a bathroom?” Me: “No, protestant churches don’t have bathrooms.” (I guess some Catholic churches really DON’T have bathrooms.)
Husband: “I like these padded pews.”
Son, about a minute after we arrive at the reception hall, and about every 3 minutes thereafter: “Can we leave now?”
Aunt saying goodbye: “Sorry we can’t stay – we have to go pick up a horse.”
Observations regarding my son’s meal of exactly two bites of chicken, and five slivers of raw carrot salvaged from my salad: “Oh, is he a picky eater?”
Reception hall worker to guest who asked if he could have two pieces of chicken, “No.”

Actually, it was a very nice wedding, with a beautiful bride and a fine time had by all. Newlyweds are off to Niagara Falls for a frolic in the mist.

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