Live-blogging Ryan's wedding

Ha ha, just kidding. No, really, it was lovely. In concept. In practice, the driving cold rain was a bit of a distraction, especially as umbrellas were sprouting like mushrooms all around me, distributed by the mother of the groom, to pretty much everyone in the audience except for me, the ex of the groom, even as I discreetly and furtively tried to signal her that yes, I would desperately very much like one, especially if they were planning to read out the entire ketubah.

Also, despite K's assurances, I was pretty much the only one there in a hat.

K's been seriously into the me-in-a-hat thing, ever since the pink fluffy creation I wore to Royal Ascot that drew approving comparisons to Eva Peron from the assembled non-heterosexual crowd. I was considerably less certain about this teal feathered number, especially after Bill's comment, which was -- and I paraphrase just the tiniest bit, here: Mamie Eisenhower called; she wants her hat back. As K pointed out cheerfully, there was one other woman there in a hat. However, as I rebutted, she could easily have been the mother of the bride at Mamie Eisenhower's wedding, so I wasn't sure that really counted as a contemporary sartorial statement. I suppose it did, however, end up being rather handy in the rain, even if only as a one-time-use sort of thing.

But, of course, I jest; I jest. Ryan, we're happy that you're happy. I really must note, however, that the best man's speech was a little weak, and someone else (*cough, cough*) might have done better.

The rest of the trip was somewhere in between the best-case and worst-case scenarios. The food was fabulous; if you're headed to Oregon, let me know and I'll send a list of restaurants. The most pleasant surprise was the Thai: when I last lived in Oregon, it was possible only to get the blanded-up Sino-Thai crap found across most of the DC area. I was extremely happy to discover that real Thai food is now available in Portland, including at a lovely all-veg place on Hawthorne. Also -- at the risk of making them even harder to book -- I strongly recommend staying at the yurts in the State Park system. At $29 per night ($35 with advance online reservations; strongly recommended), they were nicer -- and quieter -- than hotel rooms at three times the cost. Plus, the night sky south of Florence is incredible, and climbing an 800-foot dune at sunset, with the slanting rays turning the shifting top layer of sand into a glowing golden blanket, is not to be missed.

That said: K and I still don't travel well together. Ah well. A separate K update post soon. More everything soon. For reasons I shall explain shortly (see "Esquiver's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Return," forthcoming), I'm blogging outside on the street at 11 PM, and getting mugged doesn't seem like a terribly far-fetched possibility. A bientot.