On Saturday we dropped the rogs off at the kennel and embarked on a 4 hour drive to Hood River, Oregon (about an hour outside Portland) for my cousin Erika’s wedding.

Unfortunately, other than the presence of one flea, the motel I booked us at turned out to be boringly normal, and not nearly as awful as the online reviews suggested. Apparently people are spoiled. Or, the motel got their shit together. After we checked in we had about an hour to get ready and drive up the street to the wedding.

Danny, Erika’s younger brother. In typical Kiener fashion, he was the only sibling that showed up to the wedding, as the other two and Erika were not on speaking terms.

The set-up, an outdoor wedding, was very similar to ours. It was a beautiful location, and the weather cooperated, after raining all morning.

Corinne, looking sassy.

Corinne and I both had very high heels on that we were both unaccustomed to, and teetered around like geeks all night.

That is until “Your Woman” by White Town came on, one of our classic songs, and I hurriedly pulled my shoes off and rushed to the dance floor to shake it around. Priorities.

My aunt Claire’s boyfriend Ken, Flynn’s fiance Molly, and my cousins Flynn and Kyle.

The groom. Erika and I didn’t talk for 3 years, so the wedding was the first time we met.

They had a full bar, and luckily ginger ale for Corinne and I. The dinner was excellent. I think the Boy ingested something like 60 Weight Watchers points. It was worth it!

Claire walked Erika down the aisle. It was very sweet.

The groom’s son was included in the vows.

Erika cried through the entire vow exchange.

Her dress was stunning, and she looked beautiful. After 3 years, it was wonderful to see her again.

The back of the dress was especially gorgeous. Her tattoos have gotten far more elaborate in the 3 years that we were apart. Actually, all of my cousins are tattooed. The Boy’s cousins too. Must be a generational thing.

My cousin Kyle noticed the spelling error in the sign.

My friend Christy was at the wedding as well, adorable as always.

I hadn’t seen so many white people with dreadlocks since…well, Burning Man, probably.

“THANK YOU,” bellowed my Aunt Lisa loudly to the Boy as we were leaving the wedding, “For not having those disgusting white person dreadlocks!”

“He used to!” I told her. This is true. But never again.

My cousin Flynn (far left) was sporting a creepy little mustache that only someone with his charisma could pull off.

“Hey,” slurred some drunk guy at the end of the night, staring at Flynn, “Is that guy a newscaster or something? He looks like a newscaster.”

“You mean my son?” yelled Aunt Lisa. “That’s my son.”

“That’s your son?” said the drunk guy.

“Oh! Oh!” said Aunt Lisa. “What, he’s too good-looking to be my son? Huh?”

“Yeah!” I jumped in.

The drunk guy, now looking uncertain, paused to collect himself. “I mean uh…you look like his sister,” he offered.

“Oh nice! Real nice!” she laughed at him.

Right past Corinne’s head is the most talked about outfit of the whole evening–this absolutely hideous one-piece backless romper with harem pants. Everyone was appalled.

My aunt Lisa was also wearing a blue dress with silver sandals like me. She gave me a fabulous goody bag with jewelry that she made for me–I’d been waiting years. It was worth it. She has excellent taste.

My aunt Caroline and uncle Mike, who was one of the uncles that went to Burning Man in 2009.

In addition to the cake, there were cupcakes and macaroons. I’d never had a macaroon before–yuck.

There was a bunch of drama surrounding the cutting of the cake that wasn’t visible from where the Boy and Corinne and I were sitting, but Aunt Lisa filled us in later on. Apparently the groom was not supposed to shove cake in Erika’s face but he did anyway, rather dramatically and thoroughly, and Erika went into the bathroom and was crying while her mother and Aunt Lisa cleaned her up and someone brought her a ciggie and she felt better.

Aunt Lisa was pretty heated up about the whole thing and went into a spiel about what the cutting of the cake/smashing of cake into the bride’s face symbolized and we were all pretty surprised. The Boy and I didn’t smash cake into each other’s faces at our wedding. And you know, truthfully, I would have been pissed off too.

Corinne and the Boy.

Erika getting ready to toss the bouquet.

I forced Corinne to join the crowd of women trying to catch the bouquet. She was towards the front of the crowd and the bouquet sailed right over her head (in spite of her high heels). A bratty little girl with a cast on her arm was yelling at everyone how the bouquet was HERS and I knew she’d end up with it…

…and sure enough, she did. Look, she’s not even happy about it, ugh, kids.

It got pretty drunken towards the end but I suppose that’s customary for weddings, right? We stayed until the end, around 11:30 or so, and drove back to Seattle the next day. I’m happy that Erika and I are speaking again, and her wedding was lovely. Hooray for love!