My cousin Merry's wedding was a beautiful affair. As you'd expect, I mean the woman's name is Merry! It was at a gorgeous castle-like venue with a maze in the back. I remember the smell of the grass and stones there. I remember it was warm and the summer breeze kissed each guest on the cheek as they arrived. I was an awkward 5th grader squidged into an awkward, ill fitting, brazenly colorful dress. The centerpieces for the tables were not flowers, but paint chips. From Lowe's or something. Merry wore not heels, but rather personalized Converse high tops. Her husband, Jim - as any good Minnesotan is named - wore not shiny black spy dress shoes, but rather personalized Jordans. I remember dancing and food. I remember bees and champagne.