Friday consisted of an eight-and-a-half hour drive, while on Sunday it took us nine hours to return from the upper reaches of New Hampshire to Brotherly Love land. Sixteen-and-a-half hours of driving in three days. And it was worth it, because I saw one of my oldest friends say "I do" at one of the most beautiful resorts I've ever seen.

It was the best wedding I've been to all year. SB looked gorgeous, everyone was completely chill and it was just a fun, fun time. The best man toasted the couple not with champagne, but with champagne flutes filled with Guinness. When the bridal party was announced at the reception, "Rock and Roll Part Two" played in the background and SB's uncle called each person's name as if they were the starting lineup for the Patriots. Brilliant. We danced to a mix the groom had labored over for more than two weeks. It was eight hours of all the hits you'd expect at a wedding and then some. A major block of Bruce Springsteen closed out the night (the happy couple met through a Bruce zine 10 years ago).

I had such a great time. I'm so glad I decided to bite the bullet and go. It was worth every penny.

And, Mike promises me that we'll get to go back to the resort sometime soon. Momma needs a maple sugar scrub and a massage.