<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:40:02.759-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Poor Wedding Dad</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>20</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-4084937168289055671</id><published>2009-08-20T08:16:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T08:45:39.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The favorite moment</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I guess there has to be a favorite moment from your daughter's wedding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;that sticks in your heart and mind forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It was right before this photo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The ceremony was done,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the reception was over,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the eco-fetti gauntlet had been run&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and the new couple was safely loaded in the limo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;that would elegantly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;take them away to start this new and exciting life together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Then I heard a familiar sweet voice softly call out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the sweetest word in the English language; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Daddy?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My daughter wanted a kiss goodbye and she whispered a quiet thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/So1EfnfEUDI/AAAAAAAAAcg/onZAQ0-IGZk/s1600-h/DSC_6634.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372025240488792114" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/So1EfnfEUDI/AAAAAAAAAcg/onZAQ0-IGZk/s320/DSC_6634.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My life is all about being a good Husband and Daddy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;There is no better feeling than when you feel you have gotten it right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When I am old(er) and feeble(er) this memory will still make me smile,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(and make my caregivers wonder what I am up to.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-4084937168289055671?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/4084937168289055671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/favorite-moment.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/4084937168289055671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/4084937168289055671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/favorite-moment.html' title='The favorite moment'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/So1EfnfEUDI/AAAAAAAAAcg/onZAQ0-IGZk/s72-c/DSC_6634.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-1271900260615318550</id><published>2009-08-17T14:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T15:53:26.421-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Can it really be over?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The wedding day has come and gone,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;but the exhaustion lingers....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Yep, its hard to believe. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Months and months of preparations,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Miles of scrolls of "Honey Do" lists,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A tremendously overworked Visa card,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And an incredibly exhausting, exciting, emotion filled long weekend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;have come to wind down with a whimper and a wheeze&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(That was me on Sunday).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I claim the moniker of "Poor Wedding Dad",&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; but in truth I am rich beyond measure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have watched as family and friends worked tirelessly and generously for months helping to get my daughter and new son the "perfect wedding" they wanted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have spent the last hour writing and rewriting this posting trying to remember all of you and all of the contributions of time, talent and love that have been made, but it is a job that simply cannot be done adequately.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Can you count the stars and not miss one?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(And believe me, there are a lot of "stars" out there in my sky.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Much like the stars in the sky,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I know there are those of you out there that made this day possible,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;that I don't even know about!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I cannot in good conscience exclude you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You all know who you are. You know what you have done, and I hope you know how much you are appreciated and loved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I started this post with the title, "Can it really be over?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The truth could not be further from that statement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;The truth is that this journey has just started.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The wedding is simply one hour of one day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It is a mile marker in several lives, that show the day and time when commitments were defined, when relationships were strengthened, and when we, as a family and community of friends and loved ones came together to pledge our support and love for this fine young couple, and to show them our dedication to making their future a journey of love, commitment and joy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;However, In spite of all of this verbose prose,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I suppose that Visa bill is still going to show up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Thankfully Yours,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Poor Wedding Dad...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;ps: To quote Arnold "I'll be back"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-1271900260615318550?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/1271900260615318550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/can-it-really-be-over.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/1271900260615318550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/1271900260615318550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/08/can-it-really-be-over.html' title='Can it really be over?'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-4222500334760489393</id><published>2009-07-13T15:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T15:55:01.375-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Father of the Bride (The Host) Reception Speech</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Yeesh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;This one could take some thought,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;and the clock is ticking...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I thought I had my participation in this wedding down pat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You know the old&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Her Mother and I"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and keep the Visa card handy routine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And Now This;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"What are you going to say at the reception?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have plenty of BAD examples to go with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Lets see:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1)A long disertation on the first family road trip that included the groom to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2) Inquiring of the couple when we can expect to see some grandbabies popping out!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And my personal favorite:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; 3) The Father of the Groom shows up at the reception with the cumberbund tied around his head. You don't even want to know what he said!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, Help Me Out!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Any noble examples of "Father of the Bride" speeches?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Particular things to include?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Particular things to exclude?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Really funny examples of Dad's gone bad?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Themes that really worked well?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am new at this and I only get one shot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, at least with THIS daughter!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I have two more in the wings to worry about later.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-4222500334760489393?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/4222500334760489393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/07/father-of-bride-host-reception-speech.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/4222500334760489393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/4222500334760489393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/07/father-of-bride-host-reception-speech.html' title='The Father of the Bride (The Host) Reception Speech'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-2736427883362869126</id><published>2009-07-06T15:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-06T16:18:22.656-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It worked just fine!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Five weeks and counting,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But who's counting?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Unless you of course are counting:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;RSVP's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Man, who did I forget to offend?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vases for the Aisle,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vases for the Reception,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Vases just to Have More Vases,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Flower, Flowers and Oh, Good Grief,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;More Flowers!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When and where did all of this change?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Thirty One Years ago, I was a groom in what I considered to be the biggest shing ding to ever hit our little town since the McDonalds arrived!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(McDonald's had a marching band and parachuters - We did not)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We packed out our little church &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and the reception followed,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(in the fellowship hall of course)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;complete with a multi-layered cake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(two layers)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Hawaiian Punch, mints and mixed nuts,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Not to be confused with our wedding party)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And,&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the reception hall was decorated with SEVERAL rolls of colorful crepe paper!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;What Could Be Better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Of course my future Mother In-Law did not see the need for all of the extravagance!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Her wedding was held at the church,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;immediately following the Sunday morning service.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;"Now don't go rushing off, Bob &amp;amp; Bonnie are going to get married!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I am pretty sure they had punch and cookies,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(courtesy of the Church Ladies)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And I do know for a fact that they left the reception in fine style,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Heading off to their one night honeymoon at the "Brown Hotel" in a Taxi Cab.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(They had to walk home the following day - They only had cab fare for the trip there)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(But I bet it was a pleasant walk)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Their marriage lasted their entire life, as pledged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Our marriage is in its 31st year, also as pledged.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sometimes, it seems that we get so busy planning the wedding,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;that we forget to plan the marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;How sad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, amongst the:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Guests&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Invitations&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Venue choice,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;DJ &amp;amp; Band Tryouts,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Multiple Dress Fittings,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Writing of the Vows and Speeches,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Selection and taste tastings of the menu,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Collection and Selection of the Flowers &amp;amp; Vases,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Lets Not Forget:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That we are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;building a marriage,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Not a wedding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(And you got to admit, it makes a pretty cool Christmas tree)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-2736427883362869126?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/2736427883362869126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-worked-just-fine.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/2736427883362869126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/2736427883362869126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/07/it-worked-just-fine.html' title='It worked just fine!'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-2765317231457695243</id><published>2009-06-29T14:54:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T15:46:03.067-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Mailing List</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Who to invite, whom to exclude...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(See, I was paying attention in grammer class!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Oh, but we have to invite them!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Have I even met them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(And I am talking about OUR side of the guest list.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now I &lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;did&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; understand the time honored tradition of inviting the "out of state relative" that won't possibly even consider making the trip, but should be good for a gift;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;BEFORE I SAW THE PRICE OF INVITATIONS!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I don't see any gifts arriving with my name on them!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But when I came across this one....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SkkPgELXZZI/AAAAAAAAAb8/ssuIiYON3mA/s1600-h/Sailboat+Deck+001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 419px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 319px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352826675658188178" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SkkPgELXZZI/AAAAAAAAAb8/ssuIiYON3mA/s320/Sailboat+Deck+001.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Oh, for crying out loud!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Can we draw a line somewhere!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Actually, if he would come I would gladly foot the bill, &lt;strong&gt;BUT&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;He is sitting at my table!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have a few things to discuss!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-2765317231457695243?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/2765317231457695243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/mailing-list.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/2765317231457695243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/2765317231457695243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/mailing-list.html' title='The Mailing List'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SkkPgELXZZI/AAAAAAAAAb8/ssuIiYON3mA/s72-c/Sailboat+Deck+001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-8465645184891068769</id><published>2009-06-29T14:24:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T14:53:31.894-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Male's Mail</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Yep, I know you had to read it twice, but this weekend's mail delivery really opened my eyes to the difference between &lt;strong&gt;Female Mail&lt;/strong&gt; and &lt;strong&gt;Male Mail.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Huh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Well you must understand that since the nearly divine act of completing and mailing of the&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Invitations"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;the daily receipt of mail, carrying the all important&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"RSVP Cards"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;is a daily cause for celebration!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Each day the mail carrier is greeted by my youngest daughter, (middle school age &amp;amp; a bridesmaid), and she quickly separates out the RSVP cards and e-mails her sister, (engaged daughter) with the daily responses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How exciting!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;However, Saturday also brought the first official,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"WEDDING PREPARATIONS VISA BILL !!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SkkMdV7KVOI/AAAAAAAAAb0/5R0LwC48Ofs/s1600-h/monopoly_guy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 116px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 123px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352823330347570402" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SkkMdV7KVOI/AAAAAAAAAb0/5R0LwC48Ofs/s320/monopoly_guy.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Funny, nobody claimed or celebrated over that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(Well, I do admit to shedding a few tears!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-8465645184891068769?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8465645184891068769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/males-mail.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8465645184891068769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8465645184891068769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/males-mail.html' title='The Male&apos;s Mail'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SkkMdV7KVOI/AAAAAAAAAb0/5R0LwC48Ofs/s72-c/monopoly_guy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-8905344089366196914</id><published>2009-06-19T08:57:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T15:46:21.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Should Have Seen It Coming</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;If you follow my blog, you know that I like to lament on my frustrations &amp;amp; confusion over the complexity of this entire wedding thing, not to mention the financial aspect of it all!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Complex wedding invitations, multiple dress fittings, several different types of shoes for different participants for each portion of the proceedings, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;However, I must say that in all honesty,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I did see this coming."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It all started 32 years ago when I asked my beloved a simple question:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Do you want to get married?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Before I knew it, the announcement was in the paper, the invitations were being sent out and my first ever "Honey Do List &lt;em&gt;(Scroll)&lt;/em&gt;" was being printed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My daughters have inherited my wife's "I know what I want and how I want it" gene.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;By the time of our wedding 31.5 years ago, I had created sixteen wooden candle sconces to hang on the church pews, complete with hurricane globes, (the sconces at the rental place were just not right), and a custom hand crafted kneeling bench since the ones we found available were "just not what she had in mind."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That's without mentioning the countles weekends spent searching shoe stores for the wedding shoes she could "just see in my mind."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(Apparently no shoe designer had shared her vision!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now its important to remember that while doing all of this custom wedding implement fabrication, I was also carrying a double load of senior level accounting/auditing classes at an out of town University and interviewing to hopefully start my career with a national accounting firm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Part of the plan was to be employed when I got married!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was busy!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, this involved wedding planning process is really no big surprise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My "to do" list this time around includes:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;1) Removing the 93 "Flags of all nations" currently displayed 24' off of the sanctuary floor in the front of the church, (the day before the wedding).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;2) Designing and building "boxes" that will cover the 93 flag mounts that will remain on the front wall of the church after the 93 "Flags of all nations" have been removed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;3) Successfully installing said boxes 24' off of the sanctuary floor after flags have been removed, (the day before the wedding).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;4) Designing, fabrication and installing (the day before wedding) a new white drop curtain to conceal sanctuary light equipment 28" off of sanctuary floor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;5) Procuring and temporarily installling mini-blinds on glass door of room in church where the bride will be preparing, (a taped up pillow case wouldn't work?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;6) Removing and restoring all sanctuary modifications before church service the next day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The "real scary" part of all of this is that I know,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"The List Has Just Begun!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(You know, when we had "We've Only Just Begun" played at our wedding,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I never really appreciated the hidden meaning )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-8905344089366196914?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8905344089366196914/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-should-have-seen-it-coming.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8905344089366196914'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8905344089366196914'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-should-have-seen-it-coming.html' title='I Should Have Seen It Coming'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-9200520843775012596</id><published>2009-06-18T10:38:00.008-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T22:57:00.241-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"The Getaway!"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Nope, I am not a big fan of the 1972 movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(Apologies to all of you Steve McQueen/Ali MacGraw fans)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(p.s. If you understand the above references, please click your AARP cards on your dentures as applause)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am referring to the traditional send off of the Bride &amp;amp; Groom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You know the whole "form a line and pelt the bride and groom with whatever is environmentally friendly as they dash off to the awaiting get away vehicle" gig.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have seen the "newly hitched" leave in horse drawn carriages, every sort of limo and I have even heard the idea of using a tandem bicycle immortilized in song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SjpZCq8O3RI/AAAAAAAAAbM/DVnGuzPlQ9Y/s1600-h/bike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348685409877417234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SjpZCq8O3RI/AAAAAAAAAbM/DVnGuzPlQ9Y/s320/bike.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;( Yeah...It didn't go over well in the song either!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A long time ago,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;in a galaxy far, far away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;my bride and I opted to leave the wedding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;in my current &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"get me through college" clunker&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;which just happened to be a 1967 Mustang Coupe!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sjqce8Soj0I/AAAAAAAAAbk/y89BF-dieR8/s1600-h/oldstang2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348759562850176834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 242px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sjqce8Soj0I/AAAAAAAAAbk/y89BF-dieR8/s320/oldstang2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(If I can find the actual photo from the wedding, I will substitute it, promise!)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;So....I was pleased as punch when my friend's son "Alex" asked me to use my current 67 mustang as the getaway vehicle to deliver him and his new bride to their reception.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sjqd5Ju1B7I/AAAAAAAAAbs/CoARZQc-sqI/s1600-h/Wedding+Mustang.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348761112646322098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 552px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 296px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sjqd5Ju1B7I/AAAAAAAAAbs/CoARZQc-sqI/s320/Wedding+Mustang.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; Some things just never go out of style.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(p.s. "Engaged Daughter" is opting for the Limo)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sjpa5L9Q2bI/AAAAAAAAAbc/ZfBhvW_t7_Q/s1600-h/oldstang.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-9200520843775012596?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/9200520843775012596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/getaway.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/9200520843775012596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/9200520843775012596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/getaway.html' title='&quot;The Getaway!&quot;'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SjpZCq8O3RI/AAAAAAAAAbM/DVnGuzPlQ9Y/s72-c/bike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-8728257001224512708</id><published>2009-06-11T11:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T18:21:43.591-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Fit for the wedding</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I know that everyone is concerned about "getting fit" for the wedding, but ladies this is getting ridiculous!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I have also noticed that is much more important for the ladies, especially "The Bride" than it is for the guys, Groom included.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No, I am not talking about going to the gym, watching the diet or long runs on the beach.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am talking about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"The Fittings"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Every other weekend, my "engaged daughter" travels 150 miles round trip for yet another fitting with her wedding gown seamstress!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Yeesh, how big a deal can this be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In "Gray's Anatomy" Lizzy just slipped on Meredith's gown and marched off down the aisle.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Looked Okay To Me!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I didn't see 20 trips to the lady that can't talk right because she has pins in her mouth!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In quiet contrast, the men (Groom Included) stop off at "The Men's Warehouse" one time for a 2 minute measurement, pick up the tuxes 12 hours before the big event and &lt;strong&gt;"We Are Done."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Shiny shoes and everything!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(see prior blog for my view on the shoes)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;To quote Henry Higgins (Mr. Rex Harrison) from the movie "My Fair Lady";&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Why can't a woman be more like a man?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-8728257001224512708?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8728257001224512708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/getting-fit-for-wedding.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8728257001224512708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8728257001224512708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/getting-fit-for-wedding.html' title='Getting Fit for the wedding'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-127075469108238474</id><published>2009-06-08T08:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T09:41:24.776-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The "Wedding" Budget</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My wife and I, like most loving parents,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(who are terrified that this upcoming wedding will bankrupt them)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;sat down with our lovely "engaged daughter" early in this pre-wedding journey to discuss,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The Budget".&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I must admit, that even though I wore my most somber "budgeting dad" expression, that I was very pleased and relieved at the budget number decided upon. I am not totally naive, so I did realize that there would be overruns, (as there is in any budget), and although I had my "budget overrun scowl" already practiced and stored away for certain use, secretly I was in a very good fiscal mood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;What I did not count on, were the "Off Budget Items!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I should have got a clue from our current federal government situation)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No, I am not talking about my wife's "mother of the bride dress" or the fact that there is a "mother of the bride" dress for each wedding shower, for the rehearsal and for the wedding, nor am I talking about the fact the there will be shoes, accessories and possibly jewelry to complete the look for each of the aforementioned events.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Nope, I am talking about the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"OFF, OFF, OFF BUDGET ITEMS!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was recently sitting in my very nicely decorated, very comfortable family room in my equally pleasant domicile, when my wife brought up the idea of a new sectional for said room. Huh? I thought our couch and loveseat were fine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I was wrong!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Our furniture was not suitable at all (Silly man)! Okay, I will indulge said nesting mood and help shop for a new sectional.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;That is when the flood gates burst!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And I thought the carnage from Katrina was bad! Where oh where is FEMA!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I now realize that not only was our couch and loveseat inadequate but:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Our "comfy" blue chair needed recovering,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The two small family room chairs needed help,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The formal dining room chairs required recovering,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The front room, entry way, dining room, family room, kitchen, breakfast nook, main hallway and second guest room needed paint,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The front porch needed not only a fresh coat of floor paint but an entire replacement of the railing system,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;and the entire house had to be re-carpeted!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Oh, and a darling cabinent was found that needs to be stripped and repainted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(It was a deal!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now, what makes this really interesting is the fact that;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;No wedding events are happening at our house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That's right. Nothing, nada, zilch!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No backyard wedding, no picnic reception, not even a shower!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I can't even imagine if..............&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And so we enter yet another chapter of:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Poor Wedding Dad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Have pity) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-127075469108238474?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/127075469108238474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/wedding-budget.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/127075469108238474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/127075469108238474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/wedding-budget.html' title='The &quot;Wedding&quot; Budget'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-6115646051650661404</id><published>2009-06-05T14:43:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T15:22:43.110-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Invitation Construction - Weekend #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Yes, you read the title correctly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We are about to start our second weekend of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Invitation Construction"!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As a little background, and to give credit where credit is due...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My currently engaged daughter has a reputation for being, shall we say "high maintenance."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is never any doubt about "what it is she wants and how things are going to be," so my wife and I entered this wedding planning era of our life with some serious concerns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I am very proud to say that although our daughter knows exactly "what it is she wants and how things are going to be," she has also shown great frugality and creativity in obtaining her goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The most obvious example to date pertains to;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(que up low rumbling music)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;THE INVITATIONS!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(insert scream soundtrack here)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;To clear up your confusion, I should explain that my daughter found &lt;strong&gt;"The Perfect"&lt;/strong&gt; invitations. Perfect that is except for the price! I think I overheard something along the lines of &lt;strong&gt;$15 each&lt;/strong&gt;, although this was purposely discussed in the other room, safely away from Dad!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Gotta keep dad's fragile heart in mind).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Enter the frugality I am so proud of.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Engaged daughter knew she wanted these invitations, and knew the price was way out there, so she got hold of &lt;em&gt;"Crafty, Artsy"&lt;/em&gt; sister and figured out how to produce these invitaions for a VERY small portion of the price. &lt;em&gt;"Crafty, Artsy"&lt;/em&gt; sister got a local printer to print and cut out the multitude of pieces that comprise said invitation, and "engaged daughter" scheduled an &lt;strong&gt;"invitation construction weekend"&lt;/strong&gt; including both sets of parents, siblings, boyfriend of sibling, neighbors, friends and I think a guy we picked up outside Home Depot!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(All I know is that they all stayed for dinner!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;On Saturday morning, I was approached gingerly and told that I would be needed to run a multitude of support errands instead of actually being involved in the cutting, taping, gluing, assembling rinse and repeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Imagine my total and complete Joy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Anyway, after a complete weekend of all of the above operations; progress was made. (Yep, progress). These things are still a long ways from being done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I can figure, these things are some kind of a pop-up origami full scale replica of the Eiffel tower with paper mache doves circling overhead, and somewhere in all of this is something called a "Belly Band."                                                                            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(I thought that was what the Shriners called their parade ensemble).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It goes without saying that I will be up all night tonight praying for a long list of errands for tomorrow morning. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-6115646051650661404?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/6115646051650661404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/invitation-construction-weekend-2.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/6115646051650661404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/6115646051650661404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/invitation-construction-weekend-2.html' title='Invitation Construction - Weekend #2'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-2167602775861318930</id><published>2009-06-04T20:29:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T21:16:34.790-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Dibs"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am a husband and the father of four beautiful daughters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As such, I have been dealing with "Dibs" for as long as I can remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;No, I am not talking about those wonderful ice cream treats that you can pop in your mouth like popcorn (and incidently will puff you up like popcorn!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I am referring to the calling of "Dibs" for everything from a window seat, to the last piece of pizza.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;With the attainment of an &lt;strong&gt;"appropriate age of matrimony",&lt;/strong&gt; the girls have all started to call dibs on everything from flower type to church, reception site, wedding colors, etc. ad nauseum!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I bring this up because I have witnessed an extremely rare event I call,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Giving of the Dibs"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;My currently engaged daughter and fiance have graciously informed me that since I am spending a king's ransom on this "small intimate ceremony and gathering of friends," that I may choose to wear either a tuxedo or a suit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That was subsequently modified to:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"You may pick out your own tux."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now I am not exactly a fashion guru, but I do own every solid color Izod short sleeve polo shirt sold!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So, I do have some expertise in fashion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That said, I found my tuxedo, or at least a picture of the look I am striving for!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SihqDO4nG_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/kEC55jCdMtw/s1600-h/tux3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343637561642785778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SihqDO4nG_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/kEC55jCdMtw/s320/tux3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Hey, it looked great on Alan Arkin and Peter Falk!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now, back to the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Giving of the Dibs."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When I presented my selection to my engaged daughter, she replied, "Dad, I think that is what my sister has always dreamed of. I wouldn't want to take that from her."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;It's a Miracle, The Giving of the Dibs!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sounds like &lt;strong&gt;"I"&lt;/strong&gt; have decided to wear a black tux after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-2167602775861318930?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/2167602775861318930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/dibs.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/2167602775861318930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/2167602775861318930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/dibs.html' title='&quot;Dibs&quot;'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/SihqDO4nG_I/AAAAAAAAAa0/kEC55jCdMtw/s72-c/tux3.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-8515921124905024482</id><published>2009-06-03T15:39:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T08:33:27.620-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking To Her Dad!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now this posting may seem to apply to the grooms and potential grooms, but lets face it; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Grooms don't read this stuff!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And...The reality is, we all know who "Grooms the Groom!" now don't we...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Now you all think this has to do with the big ceremonial, ancient ritual of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Asking the father for permission to marry the daughter."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;but lets not get ahead of ourselves.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I suspect that many of you out there are still a little bit away from THAT scenario, and are still dealing with a potential groom, or still "seeking" said potential groom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That said, let us start with the basics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Meeting the Dad"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could pass on THEE most important thing you can advise your groom (potential groom, virtual groom, etc) to do when first meeting the "Dad"; it would be to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Look him in the eye and shake his hand!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Yeesh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You would think this stuff would be taught in boy's 5th grade gym class, but I can't tell you how terrible it is to have your daughter introduce you to (insert rodent's name here) and have the ingrate look as his shoes, stuff his hands in his pockets and turn away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Face it, no guy will ever be good enough in a father's eyes, but at least he wants to know the guy is a man!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;ps: This protocol also applies to each and every subsequent meeting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Its easy, its simple, and it keeps the dad from glancing around the room looking for an available baseball bat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(deep breath, check pulse, regulate blood pressure...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Okay now, onto that "OTHER" Dad and other potential uninvited family member meeting.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; I know it is archaic, ancient, demeaning, sexist, etc, etc, etc.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;BUT IT IS SO IMPORTANT TO THE DAD!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Try to look at it this way, the Dad is about to lose (in his mind) one of the most important treasures of his life, his little girl, and as a consolation prize, its probably gonna cost him a bundle to do it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The Dad knows he doesn't have to be asked.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The Dad knows he doesn't have a choice,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(Face it, he probably is or was married at some time in his life. Nuff said)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;The Dad knows that once this "wedding" ball gets rolling, nobody is going to ask him anything else.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Do him a favor:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Ask Him"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It doesn't matter if he is asked "For His Permission" or "For His Blessing".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He can't say "no".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;He knows the deal is already done, and at some time he has to face his wife and daughter!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(And grooms think Dad's are scary!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have been asked once.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(I should have been asked twice by now, and being asked is much better)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit that I lectured for at least 90 minutes, but...I knew it was my last shot for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;AND I WAS RIGHT!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;So, to sum it up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;1) Look Dad in eye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;2) Shake his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;3) Ask him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;4) Shut up and listen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Remember, some bum may be "asking" you some day!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-8515921124905024482?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8515921124905024482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/talking-to-her-dad.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8515921124905024482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8515921124905024482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/06/talking-to-her-dad.html' title='Talking To Her Dad!'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-5623059060072734692</id><published>2009-05-29T09:19:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T10:45:55.338-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is He Thinking! Does He Have A Clue?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;In my original post, I dedicated this site to all of us long suffering dads. However, I have found myself welcomed and embraced by all of you brides!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;First of all, thank you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I really started this blog as a joke to parody what my daughter was doing on &lt;a href="http://august15bride.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://august15bride.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt; (a really good site), not realizing how involved this blogging is and never having any idea how many of you would be interested in what I would have to say! &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;That has NEVER happened at home!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway, as my title states, As you travel this road we call wedding planning, apparently many of you wonder about your dad, "What Is He Thinking! &amp;amp; Does He Have A Clue?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Okay, first of all,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;YOU DO NOT WANT TO KNOW WHAT HE IS THINKING!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Trust me on this. Its the same thing he has been thinking since his 15th birthday and you don't EVER want to go there. Let me assure you that your parents found you and your siblings in wicker baskets left on their front doors by loving mothers who are complete strangers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now on to the second question:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Does He Have A Clue?"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Answer: "Nope!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were clueless as grooms, (as your beloved groom is) and we haven't changed a bit. Most of us think of invitations as something you pick up at Hallmark. "30 cents each? Sounds fair." We definitely don't get this envelope inside an envelope with an envelope deal. So, take it easy on us. Although most of us Dad's may seem to worship tools, (Can we talk about the new matt finish Snap-On combination metric wrenches?) we simply don't have the tools (or have any desire to obtain the tools) to understand all of this. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;{ Segue: My daughter has just fallen in love with shoes to wear to the reception? What? Does the 30' she is going to walk in her "Wedding Shoes" exceed the warrantee? This shoe thing has me completely baffled}&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;BUT, most of us really want to be there to support you .&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So...In addition to asking you to give your Dad a break, I am also opening a forum for your questions. If you wonder, "What Is He Thinking?" or " Does He Have A Clue?" I invite you to ask away. If you are "wondering", I am sure there are lots of other brides wondering the same thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or maybe you are just really strange, but either way it may be enlightening or entertaining at the least.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, for our first caller on line one......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sh_yExZvzeI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/5AEaqBww_qQ/s1600-h/crane.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341253846879423970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 170px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 246px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sh_yExZvzeI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/5AEaqBww_qQ/s320/crane.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-5623059060072734692?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5623059060072734692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-is-he-thinking-does-he-have-clue.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/5623059060072734692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/5623059060072734692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/what-is-he-thinking-does-he-have-clue.html' title='What Is He Thinking! Does He Have A Clue?'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sh_yExZvzeI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/5AEaqBww_qQ/s72-c/crane.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-7432887956712272985</id><published>2009-05-28T08:48:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T09:15:30.293-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dad's perspective...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In my humble opinion, Hollywood does a really crummy job of capturing the "real" moments of our of normally mundane lives. These "real" moments define who we are, capture the essence of our being and if you will excuse the comparison, "place the bookmarks in the story of our life." (Hey, that's not bad!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;There are notable exceptions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In an earlier post, I attempted to terrify my daughter and wife by pretending to post photos of the first fitting of her wedding dress. By the way, it worked!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This past weekend my wife presented me with a photograph she had dug out of the family archives. This is the lovely bride to be, with her cousin Emily at "The First Fitting."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sh6Kl9wPUOI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Z0_hIov04fY/s1600-h/05-27-2009+09%3B41%3B10AM.BMP"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340858592944672994" style="WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sh6Kl9wPUOI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Z0_hIov04fY/s400/05-27-2009+09%3B41%3B10AM.BMP" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Que up high volume "Awww!!!")&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;This is one moment Hollywood got right, in what I consider to be the most memorable moment from the remake of the movie " Father of the Bride."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47aPsSbRcTc&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=812A6E15D292D6C7&amp;amp;index=11"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=47aPsSbRcTc&amp;amp;feature=PlayList&amp;amp;p=812A6E15D292D6C7&amp;amp;index=11&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;You want to see things from the Dad's perspective?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;That about sums it up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Love you Sweetie!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ps. This not my swan song, I have lots more to say!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;DGRIN&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-7432887956712272985?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/7432887956712272985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/dads-perspective.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/7432887956712272985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/7432887956712272985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/dads-perspective.html' title='A Dad&apos;s perspective...'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Sh6Kl9wPUOI/AAAAAAAAAaA/Z0_hIov04fY/s72-c/05-27-2009+09%3B41%3B10AM.BMP' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-8952158195086833499</id><published>2009-05-26T22:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T23:59:53.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>If The Shoe "Rents"...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Okay, I admit that I am new to this &lt;strong&gt;"Father of the Bride"&lt;/strong&gt; thing, and I had better get a good handle on it pretty soon seeing that I have four beautiful daughters!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;However, I am confused about this whole &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Tuxedo Shoes"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; thing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been hearing wife and daughter chatter about a lot of wedding issues, but I was concerned when I think I heard my wife reassuring my daughter that she need not be concerned about my new "wedding shoes" purchase; that I would be wearing "proper" tuxedo shoes at her wedding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I realize that this wedding is about a whole lot of things, and that I am "not" included in that list, but what is the deal with these shoes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShyvL_06p0I/AAAAAAAAAZo/OAdVdk3jMSw/s1600-h/tp-sho001a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340335878801368898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 113px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShyvL_06p0I/AAAAAAAAAZo/OAdVdk3jMSw/s400/tp-sho001a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Tuxedo Shoes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Are you kidding me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;These things look like plastic 1970's marching band shoes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Where are the spats?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember wearing these things at my wedding in 1978, but I was too young and stupid to wonder why I was wearing shoes that probably were at a high school prom the weekend before!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;Now the fine leather "Florsheims" "Wedding Shoes" that I so frugally purchased for $59 at the local Beall's Department store (On sale at 40% off!), are proudly displayed below:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShywxzOCecI/AAAAAAAAAZw/7iTT5GJ14ik/s1600-h/DSCN1405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340337627763734978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShywxzOCecI/AAAAAAAAAZw/7iTT5GJ14ik/s400/DSCN1405.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Now that is a fine shoe! Leather uppers and "&lt;em&gt;dance floor smooth&lt;/em&gt;" soles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Quality leather, timeless styling and dare I say, comfort? I realize the word "comfort" and "wedding shoes" may not be used in the same sentence very often in wedding planning, but as &lt;strong&gt;Martha&lt;/strong&gt; would say, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"It is a good thing."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I have no delusions about winning this battle, but hey, at least I had my say!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;To paraphrase a popular 60's saying:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;"Keep On Blogging"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Shy01RKN15I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/HdP1Z97fZD4/s1600-h/6a00d8351759b253ef00e55276c71d8834-800pi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340342085386885010" style="WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 126px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/Shy01RKN15I/AAAAAAAAAZ4/HdP1Z97fZD4/s400/6a00d8351759b253ef00e55276c71d8834-800pi.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-8952158195086833499?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/8952158195086833499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-shoe-rents.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8952158195086833499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/8952158195086833499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/if-shoe-rents.html' title='If The Shoe &quot;Rents&quot;...'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShyvL_06p0I/AAAAAAAAAZo/OAdVdk3jMSw/s72-c/tp-sho001a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-4319350666504257836</id><published>2009-05-22T15:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T16:00:03.325-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The thing that keeps me up at night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;I know that brides are supposed to have "pre-wedding jitters"and maybe even a major breakdown (or two, or three, etc. ad nauseum), and that the moms have to fret over finding that perfect dress, (or two or three based on the number of rehearsals, showers, etc.).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I am also aware that a groom or two has been known to develop "cold feet" at some time during the decade long process of wedding planning, even though they have virtually nothing to plan, shop for or even organize!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;However, when it comes to the father of the bride, it is assumed that our big worry is remembering our one big line;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Her Mother And I"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;WRONG!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Perhaps you have forgotten the most terrorizing part of the entire shower, wedding, reception ordeal,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"The Father Daughter Dance!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(Que up the Stephen King Scream Audio)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;For 50 years I have avoided the idea of standing on a dance floor with one of my beautiful daughters; on her most special day; surrounded by 400 plus expectant eyes (2 per person!), and countless professional and professional wannabe photographers, and knowing full well in my heart that my dance talents consist of two dance moves, specifically "The Wounded Chicken" and the ever famous "White Man Overbite."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I have spent several television seasons carefully examining the dance moves exhibited on "Dancing With The Stars," but I have come to the conclusion that neither the Argentine Tango, the Non-Argentine Tango (?), the Quick Step, The Jive or the ever popular "Passo Doubley (My spelling) are suitable for a Father/Daughter dance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Now, my lovely daughter has not yet informed me of the music we will be dancing to, (Hint, Hint), so I have decided on a general purpose video instruction program. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tD7Rj8GkBtM"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tD7Rj8GkBtM&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Hmm, maybe this isn't exactly what she has in mind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Any hints?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-4319350666504257836?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/4319350666504257836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/thing-that-keeps-me-up-at-night.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/4319350666504257836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/4319350666504257836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/thing-that-keeps-me-up-at-night.html' title='The thing that keeps me up at night!'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-1251430983724102368</id><published>2009-05-22T08:24:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T08:44:01.892-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Fitting</title><content type='html'>Wow! What a Dad moment. Watching my baby have the first fitting of her wedding dress. These are the moments when dry eyes are just not allowed, but I was just too WOWED to even puddle up a little. What a beautiful bride she will be.&lt;br /&gt;The first fitting actually happened about two weeks ago and I was there, but yesterday I had her Mom's camera and saw the photos for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry honey, but I just can't wait to share them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShacSeUQoiI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/SABGEtI9mT4/s1600-h/loading.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338626249483919906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShacSeUQoiI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/SABGEtI9mT4/s400/loading.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(INSERT HYSTERICAL MANIACAL LAUGHTER HERE !)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Was this a mean trick?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sorry honey, I would NEVER show your wedding gown photos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am only imagining my wife and daughter's blood pressure as they waited for the non-existent photo to load.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I expect to get a phone call or two from this one, and possibly a night on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-1251430983724102368?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/1251430983724102368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/first-fitting.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/1251430983724102368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/1251430983724102368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/first-fitting.html' title='The First Fitting'/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VXmd2Ox_ZDI/ShacSeUQoiI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/SABGEtI9mT4/s72-c/loading.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-6905606277839439830</id><published>2009-05-21T13:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T13:48:03.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is a very interesting time of my life. I have always been accused of being "cheap", and being that I am the father of four daughters, it is a misrepresentation that I am glad to encourage!  My boss (of 29 years) even likes to tell his friends that I am so cheap that I won't let him spend his own money! (His Ferrari, Bentley and ranch in Montana seem to be at odds with that.)&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, I am actually an old softy pushover, and I am really only cheap when it comes to spending money for and on myself.&lt;br /&gt;This is an interesting time, because I am now dealing with the first formal wedding of a daughter. (I will further explain my use of the word "formal" at some other time.)&lt;br /&gt;As the preparations and spending, are gearing up and gaining speed, the illusion of my "cheapness" is starting to wear away!&lt;br /&gt;How can I continue to protect this image that I have spent so many decades perfecting?&lt;br /&gt;I can ponder this, because all ot the actual "wedding ponderings" seem to be off limits to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-6905606277839439830?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/6905606277839439830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-is-very-interesting-time-of-my.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/6905606277839439830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/6905606277839439830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-is-very-interesting-time-of-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1215537289929343241.post-5535193494518211638</id><published>2009-05-07T13:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T13:53:10.339-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This Blog is dedicated to all of us longsuffering, budget busted, smiling while we watch our retirement dreams disappear, fathers of wedding age daughters!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1215537289929343241-5535193494518211638?l=poorweddingdad.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/feeds/5535193494518211638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-blog-is-dedicated-to-all-of-us.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/5535193494518211638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1215537289929343241/posts/default/5535193494518211638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://poorweddingdad.blogspot.com/2009/05/this-blog-is-dedicated-to-all-of-us.html' title=''/><author><name>Lloyd</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15187653377777238215</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
