Twenty-three years ago today I married my bride. It seemed fitting today that we capture a memory of the occasion, however informal, so we asked Ella to man the camera and I selected a rural seat (read "the ground") where the light was relatively even and pleasant. I had pruned a massive rose bush just prior to the photo-shoot and the prunings made for a massive bouquet (read "colorful brush pile") with which our complicated set was complete.
We sat down and realized that Andrew's dog, Lucy, was sprawled flat-out in the grass nearby looking far too much like a doggie-corpse and, unfortunately, was visible through the lens of the camera--so we called her to attention to make her look a little more attractive (read "less dead") in the photo. She happily obliged--and promptly decided she needed to get right between us.
But being in the middle of the picture wasn't enough. She took to kissing my hapless bride (read "licking aggressively") while Ella, taking her job with utmost seriousness, snapped away behind the camera.
I guess that's OK when you've been married for twenty-three years. But next year, I get to do all the kissing of the bride.
Happy anniversary to my beloved Melissa!
PS--Thanks for not kissing the dog back...
© Copyright July 2017 by Robert G. Robbins