Over the years, I’ve had a few extraordinary holidays. I don’t mean extraordinary in that they were exceptional, but simply that they went beyond the ordinary.

There’s nothing wrong with my ordinary winter holiday—I get the opportunity to visit with family and get the chance to get away from it all and just enjoy life. But those occasional years that involve more are pretty special.

This year was a wedding. At 37, I don’t attend many weddings any more—my friends are for the most part already wedded. When Scott and Annie invited me, there was absolutely no way I was going to miss it.

As a result, I found myself sitting on a Horizon turboprop, drinking Portland Brewing’s Holiday Porter at 4 PM on December 18th, flying south to Boise.

No bad luck here
One of the great things about second weddings is the informality of them. The ceremony itself is often low-key, with a focus on the personal connection between the bride, the groom, and the friends and family that surround them. I love that.

I wrote the morning after:

This was without a doubt the most stress free wedding I’ve ever attended.

Even when reality didn’t quite go to plan, it was fine. There was a mixup on timing, so the room wasn’t ready. We just had a beer and let it go. No fuss. No stress.

Happiness.

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That was just the ceremony. The after-party just kicked it up a notch. Thirteeen of us wandered the wet streets of Boise in full wedding regalia. Every “dive bar” Annie used to frequent was a target. As the night wore on, the size of the party shrunk, so by 1 AM, the 13 had been reduced to 5. Not that it was an issue, when happiness rules, time doesn’t really matter.

Though… it did make for a rather long next day, which started early with breakfast, but contained two naps between 10 and 4, two strong coffees. I can’t party like I’m 29 any more. Or perhaps I can, but the next day is pretty costly.

Thank you Annie. Thank you Scott. Thank you Boise.