A wedding celebration

Mrs. Ottawacker's niece recently managed to achieve the most praiseworthy and unachievable of feats: she had a quiet wedding. Not out of embarrassment (as Mrs. Ottawacker claims when boasting about our own quiet wedding), but simply because she and her soon-to-be-and-now-actually-is husband wanted to.

Brilliant.

Despite being initially miffed that I couldn't get my suit out of mothballs (a miffedness slightly alleviated by the fact that my suit is now two sizes too small for me - do mothballs cause suits to shrink? Should I perhaps get in touch with a lawyer and see if compensation is possible?), we completely got it. 

Our wedding was fantastic--well, once we managed to track down the officiant, who forgot he was officiating and then officially pissed me off by officiously obfuscating his reasons for being an obvious onanist--but that was, despite protestations from the whole world, a rare stress-free and relaxed event. Normally, they cause chaos and (allegedly) family arguments, so are to be avoided like a dinner invitation from Lucretia Borgia. So we were delighted they were doing what they wanted. 

Especially when we got to celebrate with them at a later date.

Off we went to a swish Italian restaurant and ate and drank our fill, and then traveled back to Kanata, where we had the cake, which Mrs Ottawacker and Ottawacker Jr. had made with their own fair hands. 

A lovely day, and a perfect start to our new lives of being the cool relations of the newly married couple.