Marry merry, Mary.

My nephew got married yesterday.

This is nothing new, I have other nephews who have married.  Nieces too.  Many of them have kids, which makes me a great uncle.  This is something new, because I have never been a great uncle until they had kids.  I have been a mediocre and poor and terrible uncle, but now I am a mediocre, poor, terrible GREAT uncle.

The nephew who married yesterday is a very kind and considerate young man named Schmeoff (pronounced Schmeff).  I think he'll be 22-years-old in November--I don't know that for sure (see above paragraph about terrible uncle).  And, I think he got home from his mission between two weeks and nine months ago (again, see above paragraph).  He's been home from his mission long enough to get married but short enough to both have the glow and speak the language.

He went to France, so his language is French.  His preferred cut of green bean: also french; mustard of choice: French's;  favorite actor: French Stewart;  favorite swimsuit cut: french cut;  favorite butler from Family Affair: Mr. French;  favorite character in the movie/musical Grease: Frenchy; favorite style of kiss: no comment (but judging by the wedding, it may be named after a western European country...Luxembourg); Favorite cut of potato: Julienne (from which he makes french fries).

As I watched this young man (born in 1990, I think) marry, I couldn't help but remember him as a toddler kicking soccer balls with great accuracy and power and angering self-absorbed trumpeters with his unbridled running.   Then, I remembered when he was eight- or nine-years-old  watching Jurassic Park II in the theater, and how five minutes into the movie he yelled, "RUN!" warning the little girl on the screen of the danger.  There are other less-specific memories.

I should mention his new wife, Schmemily, she is lovely, and judging by the accounts of the folks that gave toasts at the luncheon she's awesome.  My interactions with her consist of the following exchange that took place in the sealing room at the temple while she was being thronged by less-terrible uncles and aunts:

Me: Nice to meet you. Congratulations.
Her: Nice to meet you, too.
Me: Bye.
Her: Bye. (I'm speculating on this next part, but I assume once I was out of earshot she turned to Schmeoff and said) Who was that guy? (or) I could use a plate of spaghetti.
Schmeoff: Me too, and it's not even 4:00 yet.*

It is an exciting time for a young couple.  I wish them the best of luck.  Go celebrate with some French Vanilla Ice Cream.  And, if you see any little dinosaurs--even one--RUN!






*Schmeoff played basketball in high school and would eat a plate of spaghetti at 4:00 PM on game days.