A Southern Affair
I attended a wedding last weekend in New Orleans for one of my colleagues. Being a polite pain in the ass, she refused to tell me where she’d registered and I was unsure of giving money. While I know everyone loves receiving money, I like giving something handmade for weddings.
Those tattooed feet are not the groom or bride’s. Thanks Kim!
The bride, Vanessa, never looked more beautiful than her wedding day. The ceremony was meaningful and sweet. And once the dance floor opened up, that girl got her groove on. We were having so much watching the stress and anxiety of planning a wedding fall off of her with each shimmy and shake. And can she move!
Also — southern weddings are a fun mix of music, people and food. This one included a mashed potato bar, and just about everything bite sized fried you can imagine including “fish cones.” Yep. Just as it sounds. Tiny pieces of fried fish in ice cream cones with tartar sauce.
I am going to miss working in New Orleans. Namely, I’m going to miss regularly being called “Miss Kelli” by coworkers and “honey” and “sugar” by people at the airport. And the hotel. And the restaurants. And the gas station.
Bless their southern hearts,