Weird Western Mass Weddings

Some old friends of mine got married this past weekend, and it was about damn time. They've been together for years and years, and are as perfect for each other as two people they can be. The wedding was a 3-day extravaganza and it was perfect. Perfect couple, perfect location, perfect carrot cake (see how long I waited to bring up cake? Growth).

Not a bad place to get married. Or live.

It wouldn't be a Western Mass wedding without a little weird. And I saw that with love, as someone whose college nickname was Nutters. It's a place full of characters: hippies, steam punkers (is that right?), nudists, neo-lunar-nudists etc. I fucking love it.

The Boy's Dad and Friend. Epic picture.

While home I stocked up on veggies and canned goods from The Boy's family farm and a local farmer's market. The cooking is going to be good.

Beets.

There are two downsides to going home.

1) Never enough time. I haven't seen my dad or stepdad in forever and I'm developing guilt calluses.

2) It throws into sharp relief how not crazy I am about where I'm living now. I'm not a city girl, and I'm not a country girl. I'm both. And I live in neither, which has put me in a funk since getting home. But I'm thinking this weekend I'll fashion myself a cure made out of bike rides, brunch and fireworks.

More later.