Pretty special, 'kay?

So who else sees the problem with this advertising slogan?

Women who eat breakfast, like Special K Red Berries, weigh less.

Try saying it aloud. ( Edit: answer behind the cut. )

Got bats?

My subject refers to a sign I saw taped to a fencepost while on the way to Geneseo, NY for the wedding of tapas and creed_of_hubris. There was a phone number, but no explanatory information. I also saw "FLARGH?!" spray-painted on the side of a trailer in three-foot letters. Blink. I was riding with irilyth and psocoptera, who were kind enough to swing by Saratoga to collect me on their way west. (adfamiliares was unable to escape her family reunion, alas.)

The wedding was sweet and lovely and warm, and the happy couple were not just platitudinally happy; happiness was pouring off them in rivulets and collecting in little puddles on the floor. (Some guy had to lay down a long white carpet so tapas wouldn't get her hems wet.) Eighteen or twenty SWILfolk were there, clustered together and discussing whether the stained glass featured Penrose tiling or not. The ceremony was performed by the priest who'd married creed_of_hubris's parents, and he made a plucky—and nearly successful—effort to incorporate mitochondrial DNA into his homily.

The reception was held at a stately home overlooking a loverly sloping vista of hills and horizon. It was run by a pony-tailed guy in a tie-dyed shirt, who got more and more excited as carful after carful of pony-tailed guys pulled up: "This is gonna be the best party ever!" I suspected (and I got it confirmed, later, by the maid of honor) that he was hoping to toke up with us; I hope he wasn't too disappointed when we revealed ourselves to be boring. Instead, many of us gathered around the pool after sunset, lay back in the deck chairs, and watched the Perseids scorch the sky overhead. We saw eight or a dozen meteors, and several nice bright satellites, with eclectic_boy playing tour guide to the stars for us.

There was a lovely brunch at the creed_of_hubris family lake house on Sunday; some folks took kayaks out, and others noshed on quiche and danish and tiny little sammiches. We left directly from there, stopping briefly at the Oneida home of psocoptera's excellent and amiable uncle—he keeps bees! And he knows all about the history of the Oneida cult! And he gave me a pound of dark honey!

Perhaps there was a melancholy breeze wafting through the wedding ceremony, for me at least. But it was minor and fleeting, and did not mar the celebration; tapas and creed_of_hubris are both splendid in every way, and I am very glad they found each other. I wish them endless love, unflagging fascination with each other, and pocket aces when they're behind the button.

( And yes, I took pictures. )