One wedding, no funeral

This weekend, the Papou and I went to my cousin's wedding, in posh Mont Saint-Sauveur, in the Laurentides. The church was tiny and delightful (and an absolute sauna) whose priest was a woman. The groom, in his spotless formal navy whites, sweated on bravely with a somewhat fixed smile on his face while the unfortunate bride arrived forty-five minutes late, after a limousine glitch. The maid of honour was an attractive and slightly overconfident young woman, whose meticulously tanned and toned body spoke of maniac dedication to the gym. The ceremony was reasonably short.

Afterwards, the children scattered among the old graves surrounding the church and little Vincent proudly announced having discovered an Egyptian tomb.
"And how do you know it is Egyptian?" I asked.
"Because it has a cat on it."
He offered to show me and we went to investigate the Egyptian tomb in the mist of the small Anglican graveyard.
The eroded "cat", on top of the stone, was actually a little lamb lying down. I explained to Vincent that a thirteen year-old child was buried there and that people often used lambs to symbolize the innocence of children. Five minutes later, I heard Vincent proudly announced there was an Egyptian tomb in the graveyard. Oh well.

The party then moved on to a friendly house, with a nice yard, shady trees and a deep blue pool. An army of little savages in bathing suits soon splashed and ran around happily and my son announced afterwards that it had been "the best party of his life". I'm sure the children's catering table, offering limitless and unsupervised chips, candies and juice had a good part in his enthusiasm.
I sat with two cousins I don't see often enough (I'm extremely fond of all my cousins and we were all pretty close when we were young) and had a very pleasant time.
I had the privilege of holding the 5 month-old son of the bride and groom for a good half-hour, one of my avowed objectives. In a social gathering, just put a baby in my arms and I'm absolutely and perfectly happy. I don't actually know how old little Michael was. I asked him but he only said "Aaaaagh" so I'm not entirely sure.
The speeches were, in my view, uncommonly moving. And what struck me more than anything is how in love the bride and groom were. They are no naive youngsters, they both have children already, and have lived together long enough already to produce the chubby little package I held in my arms. I will not expand here on my views about marriage, but I don't think I've ever heard the 'till death do us part vows pronounced with such meaning. It’d almost make me believe in romantic love again. Imagine that!
I wish them all the love in the world.

There you go, miss Dodo, that’s my story and I stick to it :)