The wedding planner

It hasn’t been so bad at Planet Fitness. I’ve still got plenty of stamina from a couple of years ago, when I weighed forty fewer pounds. Speaking of whales, Martin and I are reading Moby-Dick, one chapter every day. Today is the fourteenth day. You are welcome to read it with us.

I suppose I’d better report some things about my wedding.

It’ll take place on May the Twenty-first.

There is some pressure to change the venue: the guest list is too large for our church. I’m all for casting out a good many of the spectators. But my future in-laws keep on suggesting more spectators to bring in (which is tiresome of them).

Of course, I’d like to include all of our near and distant family and friends – and some enemies, for gloating over – but, in the end, having the wedding at our church is more important to me. (What are Karin’s feelings? I don’t presume to state them.) Besides, after our honeymoon, we might have a casual party for the cast-outs.

I hear them, my detractors. “Only John-Paul would write so cynically about his wedding.” Well, you should have heard what I used to say about weddings, when I thought myself a paragon of rationality. I have become much more marriageable than I used to be.