My cousin Greg married Renee over the weekend, and it was a great excuse for my mom’s side of the family to get together. (Send your well wishes to the newlyweds, see their photo, and check out my blog on how marriage means maturity on the About.com Newlyweds site.) Most of us live in the New York metropolitan area, but we had to travel to Michigan for the wedding. It was quite a journey. Some people, including my eighty-something grandparents and my Godson Nicholas (above at a Grand Rapids, Mich. restaurant with me), were very courageous and traveled all together in an RV. It takes 16 hours to get to Michigan from New York, and they spent all that quality time…together…in a camper. And my grandfather Rocco insisted on bringing broccoli rabe. Imagine the farts that flew in those cramped quarters.
I refused to take that route for the obvious reasons. I opted to travel by plane to Chicago with my mom Regina and sister Rosaria. After a stop in Chicago, where we walked passed the Sears Tower (because it’s not called that anymore) and had to go back and inhaled some good grub, we took to the road. We drove what was supposed to be four hours to Grand Rapids, Mich. A wrong turn and disfunctional GPS had us take six hours. But we laughed all the way. It set the tone for wedding weekend.
While the weekend included smelly feet, a need for an enema, and incessant text messaging (when we were right next to each other), there was also playing peek-a-boo with the babies, kisses for Uncle Gino, and Chicago-style, stuffed, deep-dish pizza. What more could a nice Italian girl want? To see what I’m talking about, visit the “Greg & Renee’s Wedding” and “Portraits – Greg’s Wedding” photo albums.