Greg and I were married twenty-one years ago today. In typical fashion, I printed each of our wedding invitations by hand.


We think important things happen on the 19th—Greg was born on May 19th, I was born on September 19, and we were married on December 19—so it seems fitting that this is my 19th post.

I spent the summer before our winter wedding with Greg in Namibia, where he was a volunteer teacher at Oshigambo High School. At the end of the summer we decided to get married so we set a date (the first Saturday after my final exams) and then called our parents. I got on a plane to fly home and Greg stayed in Namibia to finish his first year of teaching.

We were separated for four months during which I went to school (I was in my last year at UW) and planned our low-key wedding. Some parts were easy: We’d get married at mom’s house on Beacon Hill and we’d have a potluck dinner so we didn’t have to worry about catering or food costs. Other parts were hard, such as deciding what to wear.

I knew I didn’t want to wear a classic white wedding dress but couldn’t really imagine what I did want to wear. And I didn’t have much money so cost was certainly a factor.

Erin and I were on the outs at the time (primarily because I didn’t care much for her boyfriend) so I didn’t turn to her for help. (But boy do I wish I had. I sure regret being so stubborn.) Marty and Eric were loyal and attentive friends but not necessarily helpful when it came to helping a girl decide what to wear on her wedding day.

I’m not sure why my mother and aunts didn’t weigh in. Tommy’s girlfriend, BrynDel, had the decency to dissuade me from choosing a simple cotton dress from the LL Bean catalog by explaining, kindly, that it was “too casual.”

Left to my own devices, I ended up choosing separates, arguing (with myself) that I would get more wear out of three separate pieces. So I bought myself a black felted wool bolero-style jacket from Laura Ashley that I thought was chic and infinitely wearable. And then I paired it with a long black skirt and a wine-colored collared shirt I picked up from City People’s Mercantile, back when they were on 15th on Capitol Hill.


Naturally, I never wore any of those three items again. I suppose I might as well have bought a white wedding dress. I’m not sure what happened to the skirt or shirt but I can tell you that I’ve stored the sweater in my cedar chest ever since.

Offering: a wool sweater jacket from Laura Ashley, worn once, twenty-one years ago



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