Oh boy. It feels like Spring in the Great White North.The ducks are quacking in the pond. Lovers are everywhere. I'm under renewed pressure to marry Sébastien.
And this doesn't help.
Lordy. Soon there won't be any places where you CAN'T get married.
But never mind because now I've got another excuse not to get hitched: I don't want to have to apologize to the bigots.
Like Ellen's wife just did...
Because can you imagine ME apologizing to a homophobe?
And besides if that excuse doesn't work I've got another.
The guy who will be the best
Isn't feeling his usual self...
He had an operation to remove a small lump on his belly. He's fine. I'm still recovering.
But he won't be able to wear a tuxedo for at least another two months.
Gawd. When you hear wedding bells ringing in your head, is that a sign of insanity...or a sign of things to come?
Sébastien is the chosen one. Kerouac is a trooper. Portia is fabulous.
And I LOVE Vermont...