On Thursday, I closed on my house, dropped my dog at my friends house, where she'll stay for a little over 3 months. Insert lots of tears here.
On Friday morning, movers packed all of my worldly possessions into 3 PODS and shipped them off to storage in Detroit. I load my Italy and St. Petersburg bags into the trunk of my car and left the car in a parking lot for my friend to retrieve.
I hopped a train to the airport and arrived in St. Petersburg, FL for Dan and Alexia's wedding Friday night. I headed to a pre-wedding celebration at a local brewhouse with the bridal party and friends.
Saturday was wedding day. It was a beautiful Greek Orthodox wedding ceremony and the reception was fabulous. Instead of a DJ, the bride and groom had a standards style band... my absolute favorite. I love Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone and all the divas and crooners from days gone by. So the music was exceptional and they managed to rock out standard wedding classics like Brick House and Shout.
I danced my booty off the entire night until my legs ached and I was sweating. I love dancing and hadn't danced like that in far too long. After the reception ended, a group of us headed to the after party. I drank too much and made a few bad decisions. Isn't that what you're supposed to do at weddings? Well, I sure did anyway. I think I fell into bed sometime around 5.
Wake up a few hours later. It's Sunday. I'm hungover. Exhausted. Piecing events together in my head from the night before. Oy vey. I really did make those bad decisions, didn't I? I'm too damn old for this. I toss back 3 Advil, start drinking water like it's my job and hop a cab to the airport. I have a long and painful day ahead of me. I'll head to Atlanta, then Paris then Venice. I just want to get there.
To be continued....
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