Austin to Alamo City

Greetings from San Antonio. I'm here for the National Public Health Information Coalition's annual conference, where retired Lt. Gen. Russel Honoré of Hurricane Katrina renown gave this morning's keynote address.

Based on his CNN persona, I half-expected Honoré to call someone out for yawning or not silencing a cell phone, but he was relatively subdued. While I subscribe to his notion that the U.S. can do a much better job at disaster preparedness, I'm not sure how I feel about his idea about using RFID chips to keep track of us during evacuations. The only way I'd agree to get such a chip implanted is if it came with a coupon for free fries.

Kate's parents threw us a wonderful Texas post-wedding party at the Driskill Hotel on Saturday. It was great introducing the family to all our Austin pals who couldn't make it to Massachusetts for the wedding. I probably shouldn't have stuck my tongue in the chocolate fountain, but at least I had the common decency to wait until almost everyone had gone home.

Hitchin' day

I've been wanting to blog more about getting married to and going on honeymoon with Kate, but catching up at home and work has kept both of us busy over the last several days.

Fortunately, we just received proofs from our ace wedding photographer, Brett Buchanan, so I'll let pictures do the talking.

Kate and I decided to do formal photos before the ceremony, so this was taken right after I saw her in her wedding gown for the first time. I was blown away, folks. Walking up to her made me feel giddy and a bit weak in the knees.


Here's my groomsmen and me doing the obligatory ham jive. From left, Kevin Fullerton, me, Jonathan Toubin and David Wyatt. David served as officiant for the ceremony and did an amazing job.


We were married in Wellesley, Mass. at the home of Kate's extraordinarily gracious Aunt Charlotte. Her backyard proved to be an ideal setting, though the arrival of Tropical Storm Hanna gave us a scare. As it was, the first big, fat raindrops starting hitting the tent just as the ceremony got under way. Since everyone was already inside, the rain helped make things even more romantic.

Once everyone was situated for the reception, Kate and I hit the dance floor for the first time as a married couple to Leonard Cohen's "Dance Me to the End of Love." If it's true that rain on your wedding day is good luck, we're in great shape.

Smiling over spilled ice cream

Kate and I are in Dallas right now for her final bridal gown fitting at Priscilla of Boston. I walked in there when I dropped her off and immediately turned tail because all the brides and bridesmaids gathered at the front of the store had me feeling overwhelmed by estrogen.

The Priscilla location here is in Preston Center, a venerable shopping center at the corner of Preston Rd. and Northwest Hwy. Back in the day, my family used to go there to shop at long-departed stores like Sanger-Harris and World Toy and Gift. One of the places we used to frequent that is still located in Preston Center is Baskin-Robbins. It's right around the corner from Priscilla.

About 33 years ago on a warm summer night, I happily skipped out of that Baskin-Robbins with a scoop of something precariously perched on a cone. As my family and I walked across the parking lot to our 1966 Mustang, my scoop of ice cream toppled off the cone onto the hot concrete. I didn't see it happen and didn't even notice anything was wrong until I climbed in the back seat and realized I no longer had any ice cream to lick.

I asked my parents what had happened and they gently but firmly told me I'd dropped my ice cream. I flat out refused to believe this and asked them to show me where my ice cream had fallen. I'll never forget looking out the car window and seeing my fallen ice cream rapidly melting on the pavement. It was only then that I started weeping profusely.

As I walked by that Baskin-Robbins earlier this afternoon while my wonderful bride-to-be was getting fitted, I couldn't help but think that clumsy kid who'd dropped his ice cream had finally found redemption.

A month and counting

One month from right this minute, I will be married to Kate Harrington. Our good friend David Wyatt will be officiating the ceremony in front of family and friends from all over the place.

All the cynical, curmudgeonly or irreverent things I may spew here should always be tempered by the fact that I could not be any happier about getting to spend my life with Kate.

I am a lucky man, folks.

Shower time

Kate and I made a whirlwind trip to Houston this weekend for a wedding shower thrown by my mom's good friends Patty and Karen.

We were fortunate to have a good portion of Kate's family in town from New England for the event. It was good to see everyone before the wedding, which is now less than 50 days away.

While Kate and the ladies opened gifts, Kate's dad, my dad and I dined at Tony Mandola's Gulf Coast Kitchen in the River Oaks Shopping Center on W. Gray. I had gumbo and linguini doused in shrimp marinara sauce.

Somehow, I made it out of there without wearing any of either.