April and Ryan are Gettin' Hitched

"Oh! We have a florist."

"Great."

My fiancee and I are walking through Forest Park.

"It's the place my mom goes for all her floral needs."

"Cool."

This happens all the time now. Spontaneous bursts of wedding chatter.

"What are your thoughts on boutonnieres?"

I think the word is impossibly difficult to spell and conjures images of the French Foreign Legion. Excuse me, Gen. Boutonniere? Monsieur Van Damme is here.

"Do I have to wear a boutonniere?"

"No. But they're doing good things with greenery these days, if you don't want a flower."

"I'm not sure I need a salad on my suit. Can't I just wear a wrist corsage?"

The planning of August's wedding is moving forward. That my fiancee hasn't gouged my eyes out with her engagement ring is a testament to her overall wonderfulness.

Read the full column right here.

Or at OregonLive.com.

The Baer and I went to a really big wedding last night. Like, 400 people big. Top-end everything. Flowers everywhere. Everything perfect and gorgeous and wonderful.

"I wish my mom could see this," April said.

"I don't," I said.

No offense, Nan. But I asked a doctor sitting at our table if he could prescribe the drug that causes memory loss. Not for me. I figured I could drop a tablet in Baer's next bourbon and tonic and save us both a lot of grief.

Yes, there were a lot of good ideas implemented last night (ideas Ms. Baer was still excitedly talking about this morning). There were also a lot of people with clipboards moving quickly and nervously, coordinating. One couldn't do what was done last night without those people and those clipboards.

And congratulations to the happy couple.

Meanwhile, in India, a scuffle broke out at the Hindu ceremony for actress/model Elizabeth Hurley and Indian businessman Arun Nayar. And by "scuffle" I mean the reporters tried to storm the castle. I often feel like doing that after basketball games. This, however, is why April and I decided to invite all the reporters we know.

Scuffles broke out on Friday night after the wedding ceremony when one woman reporter claimed she had been hit by a guard and some 50 journalists tried to storm the Meherangarh Fort where wedding guests were settling down for a traditional meal.

Tensions between journalists and wedding organizers had been high during the week after journalists were banned from having access to the ceremonies in the desert state of Rajasthan.

Like all true fiascos, it all seemed so pathetically simple when we thought of it.


Get a gmail account to deal with wedding biz & traffic. Load Whitey and my contacts into Gmail, then use them to create a database for invites. Ha ha haaaaaa. While we were at it, Whitey, we should have come up with a plan to end the war, while still supporting the troops. And eliminating the US trade imbalance.

Yeah. So. Around 10PM yesterday I finally called it a night, wondering if it would have been easier just to contact all y'all telepathically.

On the upside, I think we have a caterer. (Sorry, Dad--it's not Graeters!)

By the way, even if you think we have your mailing address, it might not be a bad idea to send it to us. Email it to (all one word) ryanandapril at gmail dot com. I'm doing that thing people do to avoid spam. You're a smart kid, you can figure out how to re-format the address, right?

I've been hearing for some time about how wedding spending is getting out of control in India & Pakistan, where weddings are glorious weeklong orgies of food and festivity. (The awful truth is I read these stories to slow my building freak-out about what we're spending.) I've heard some families will cough up well over fifty percent of their yearly income for weddings.

But here's news: an NGO in Islamabad recently provided a mass dowry for 24 couples of limited means.
Whitey, how's your Urdu? Maybe we should apply...

A few words about true romance. We took a few days off to go to the coast, and in between sweet nothings and rain-drenched hijinks, I've had time to think about this stuff. It's all too easy to lose one's grip on the fundamentals stuff while doing the lion-tamer routine with the caterers.

Our pals Charles Mann and Shannon Grosswiler have just kicked down the door on the way to most incredibly fetching, well-matched, and funny couple ever. In honor of Shan's recent birthday celebration, Charles collected a listing of Surprising but Indisputable Facts About Shannon Grosswiler. Here are some excerpts....and boys & girls, it's all true.


Shannon Grosswiler does not sleep. She waits.

Shannon Grosswiler does not shop because the word shopping infers the probability of failure.
Shannon prefers buying.

Shannon Grosswiler counted to infinity - twice.

Shannon Grosswiler sold her soul to the devil for her amazing beauty and unparalleled singing ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Shannon roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took her soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now sing kareoke every second Wednesday of the month.

If you can see Shannon Grosswiler, she can see you. If you can't see Shannon Grosswiler you may be only seconds away from being rear-ended.

Shannon Grosswiler is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for her left and right breasts.

The chief export of Shannon Grosswiler is smiles.

Shannon Grosswiler ordered 2 double Cheeseburgers, a medium fry and a PowerAde at Taco Bell. And got them.

Shannon Grosswiler can fly, she simply chooses not to.

Superman wears Shannon Grosswiler pajamas.