Pity the Bride



The poor honey, this week in San Jose.

 The poor dear will be married to me five years tomorrow unless she wises up and flies the coop. She will be irked that I am mentioning this, and will harrumph in a Jane Gallagher style. But screw it! She can start her own blog, wherein she can gripe about it and whatever else, such as how I always walk right in to the kitchen when I get home and leave stuff on the silver table in the kitchen which is meant to have stuff put on it kitchen island.