Twenty-five years of being married, to the same man, is a good reason for many thoughts, and deeds. The organizer in me wished for a festive dinner at a fancy restaurant downtown, with my mom invited from sunrise and our godchildren called from sunset — these are the joys of socializing when you live on the middle field. But logistics and finances countered my social planning.
Casual jubilation became my only viable option. Practical fun, as my Don has put it.
Clad in my bridal gown (that I bought from a coquette boutique in the late spring of 1988), I playfully waited in front of the running camera. Wearing his beige groom suit (made by his late father in the summer of 1988), he joined me, gave me a silver ring and a few kisses. Yes, the same French-style poking tongue, hungry for my mouth. He used to kiss me the same way back in our wedding day. In public, in front of an audience, in front of those late Praktica vintage cameras. If I didn’t mind then, why should I now?
Then we danced and, as the heat went up (literally 30 Celsius / 86 Fahrenheit in our living room), we began to undress. Naturally!
For the record, we’ve got everything digitized: the dressed dancing will even go up on Youtube and the whole video, including the undressed part of it, is attached below this blog. Enjoy peeping at my Silver Wedding. I loved filming and directing it. I like reviewing it quite often. Oh my, am I turning into a narcissist?
Hugs and Kisses from a Very Happy Doris!
PS – After turning the garage inside out, we had to admit that our wedding day shoes have been lost.