#traidition

This weekend I went to my cousin's wedding and it was fantastic to see relatives I only see once every two or three years in the state I was born in the city I was born (Castle Rock, CO, bitches, hoorah!) and afterwards, the children of the three siblings (my dad and my aunts) who always went out together finally went out to a bar together. And we proudly lived our parent's tradition of drinking Jack and Coke and stealing flower pots and hitting on people and almost getting into fights. And it was great. But what was more great was that in a little bar called The Next Neighborhood, I casually mentioned how my wife is also at a wedding (my best friend in the world and I will someday get married and you all are invited because it will be fantastic) and I blinked, worried for a moment in a land of rednecks and raised pick up trucks and cowboy hats, I might get my ass kicked. Or my 6'7 cousin and the cop cousin might have to fight with me. But, lo and behold, the girls turned around and squeeled in delight "Oh my god, that's sooo cute!" and shared stories of their kids using Barbie and Polly-pocket getting married as Ellen and Portia and how excited they were for us. What can I say, there is hope.