"Meet me in St. Louis," Ryan told us. And the Aloia clan did, complete with enough party to cover both sides of the aisle. Even Grandpa was unstoppable on the dance floor, showing us all how 92-years-young looks. The married cousin count now stands at 3 out of 12.
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| Meet me in St. Louis - check |
As for how the rest of the weekend looked, let's just say that if you don't knock St. Louis off your list, you don't have to stress. We went the National Blues Museum and the Museum at the Gateway Arch, none of which were really worth writing home over. The next day, Nicolas and I hung out at the zoo before getting some pretty fabulous boozy ice cream at Clementine's Naughty & Nice Creamery which, while writing this post I have just learned, offers nationwide delivery that I am now seriously considering. That Manhattan? I'm not gonna lie - still thinking about it. I've been so sidelined by the ice cream that I nearly forgot to mention the people with whom we shared it - Sylvia and Peter! My middle school friend and her husband are wrapping up their final year in the Gateway City, so Ryan's wedding was a perfect chance for us to all catch up. And it certainly had been a while: last time we'd seen each other, Sylvia completely surprised me with a very pregnant belly at a bar in SF. And before that, we'd met up in St. Louis when I was a tech at Scientifica installing a two-photon microscope at SLU, light years (yet only a half year) away from demoing my own design work to a certain Mr. Musk. Life is strange like that.
This weekend I wore purple shoes, danced with Grandpa, saw Ryan kick off married life, and ate boozy ice cream with several of my favorite people, so I suppose I can't complain. St. Louis: been there, done that, twice. Who'd have thought?
