On Sunday, since we hadn’t had enough of the social aspect, we went back into DC and met up with a couple of my KISA’s friends that live in Maryland and were married last summer (which he was a groomsman for). I was reminded of why my KISA wants 15ish groomsmen in our wedding. I don’t know the actual number, but I don’t really think that’s an exaggeration. See, his parents moved out to the Boston suburbs when he was 6 and he didn’t have any other family out there. He quickly made friends with a group of guys that have been the best of friends ever since. And, there are a lot of them. It’s not like normal high school friends where you see each other once in a while – they go on mancations together, have iPhone group chats all the time, and my KISA even told them all he was going to propose to me the morning before. And, they’ve all been in each other’s weddings.

There is something about hanging out with these guys that makes my KISA’s eyes light up like I’ve never seen before. Granted, he has a ton of friends, but not like these guys. It’s almost like he’s whole again. And, that’s precisely how our Sunday went. We had a ton of fun laughing and telling stories. That evening my cousin and her husband flew back into DC (where they live) right before we flew out, so they came to meet us all and have some drinks and appetizers. It was a pretty awesome ending to a pretty great weekend.

My KISA and his friend Tommy in DC #teamUSA

Last, last Saturday (two ago) my KISA and I took the red eye out to DC for my friend George’s wedding. He married this pretty awesome woman named Kristen. Interestingly enough, I was there when they met, gave Kristen some advice on George, heard stories from George about how amazing she was in the days following, and lived next door to George in Vienna during the first few months of their relationship. They’re a pretty great couple, so I wasn’t going to miss that wedding for the world.

We had a friend that was flying on a red eye out of LA and getting in at the same time as us and another friend that had gotten in the night before from Mexico. The four of us rode down to VA together, sharing stories of the foreign lives we used to live. I crashed hard once we got to the hotel, but I don’t think the boys minded as they all went to a vineyard to have some drinks (yes, interestingly enough there are vineyards right outside DC, in VA….who knew, right?).

So, it’s funny how once you have to start planning a wedding how much you start paying attention to other weddings. And, their wedding was pretty near perfect. Just to give you an idea, it was at a vineyard. Their ceremony was on an island, with a pond surrounding it (as if the vineyard wasn’t beautiful enough), that had a bridge going out to it. And, there were old farm buildings in the background. Our first glimpse of Kristen was as she was walking through one of the rows of the vineyards off in the distance, walking across the bridge, and then coming down the aisle. On a frickin’ island. It was quite probably the most gorgeous wedding venue I’d ever seen. After the ceremony we walked back across the bridge to a patio area that had a fireplace and had chairs and tables set up, as well as cocktail tables with some pretty delicious cheese. And, an open bar…that had Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I’m pretty sure they didn’t forget any detail.

We proceeded to drink our way into the evening. At one point in time a couple of my friends decided it would be a good idea to jump in the pond. They were pretty discreet about it…until they walked back in with their hair and clothes soaking wet (they didn’t jump in with their clothes on, but obviously had to put them back on after being done swimming. It’s making me reconsider my desire to get married on a lake as I have too many friends that might consider that a good idea.

I need routine. I didn’t realize this until spending almost 3.5 years traveling for my last job. I realized how stressed and frazzled I become if I don’t have some kind of consistency. We have been on the go for the last three weeks straight. Granted, I’m not complaining because I got to see some pretty amazing sites and hang out with some even more amazing people that I don’t get to see all the time. It’s been fun, but I need to slowwwww down now. Oh, and catch up on this blog thing I created.

Great news you all: I’m joining the No Tattoo Club! My KISA is the chairman, so naturally I wanted to join.

I decided I was a rebel at the ripe old age of 18 and decided to get a tattoo for my birthday present to myself. Contrary to what my KISA thinks, butterfly tramp stamps were cool in the Midwest when I was 18 (he claims they never were). Since my passion then was to join the Cool Club, that was the membership card. I wanted to make sure people knew how really cool I was and that I could tolerate pain pretty well, so I also got my tongue pierced that night.

Fast forward 12 years later, and I’ve decided that I’m really not cool. Or a tramp. They had a Groupon for $200 that was for 6 treatments to have a tattoo removed. It was time. I told my KISA I was going to join my club and he was LIVID. Oh, not because he doesn’t think my tattoo is the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done. No. It’s because he claims I can’t join the No Tattoo Club. I explained to him that I would no longer have a tattoo and that would therefore qualify me. He says I’d have to start my own club: Former Tattoo Club. I’m going to start a petition. Let me know if you want to sign it.

So, I just had my third treatment on Thursday. They remove the tattoo with a laser. A laser is essentially light of some kind. They make you wear these sunglasses so that the light doesn’t bother your eyes (or theirs as well). You know how when someone welds something they wear a mask so that the sparks don’t bother their eyes? This is no different. And, the pulses of light look like sparks. And, you know they’re strong if this tattoo is on my lower back and I’m facing away from it and can still see it. That might be why it blistered. And then the blister expanded and made a really big blister over all of my tattoo. That proceed to pop right as we got off the BART at the airport on Friday. It literally was like my water broke. The back of my dress was soaked. My KISA had no sympathy for me. It made me want to join the No Tattoo Club even more.