The Trick is Not to Expect It, But to Delight in It When It Comes

Les Findingmoxies

One of the boons of dual citizenship  is the surplus of holidays and traditions. Add some ethnic flavour to the pot and you can bilk a few more holidays out of the universe. Which basically means we've got Guy Fawkes Day, 4th of July, Cinco de Mayo, Persian New Year, Boxing Day and Burns Night.

However, as with any awesome thing, there is a cost and to maul a metaphor, the other side of that coin is missing out on events in the lives of your friends and family. So it happened that Mr Findingmoxie's sister got herself hitched one lovely June day eight hours ahead of us.

Not to be left out of the festivities, I immediately wanted to invite all our Bay Area peeps to Casa Findingmoxie for a dawn prosecco raid. Mr Findingmoxie, ever the voice of reason and restraint, postulated that perhaps our peeps would not wish to don their glad rags and quaff prosecco from earliest light. I scoffed, but relented. Although, I'm sure this was a disservice to the locals. Mr Findingmoxie gracefully accepted that while others would not answer the call to raise prosecco, there would be no stopping us.

The day dawned bright and sunny in San Francisco (and surprisingly, in Sheffield eight hours earlier. Seriously, every time I've been to Sheffield, it's either been rain or snow, never sunlight). I had the perfect dress I'd been saving, sparkly and vibrant. Mr Findingnmoxie donned his wedding suit and even Dexter submitted to a bow around his neck. A major cat feat, I know. My last endeavour to wrangle cats into a festive cheer involved two kittens, two homemade birthday hats and a camera. Every time I got one hat on one kitten, I turned around to find that the other had chewed his off--argh, how else would Scraps know that Oregon and Dakota loved her on her birthday? Finally, I had to give up in hysterics. As for Dex, it helped that the ribbon was a welcome break from the Cone of Shame that the poor little tyke had worn for the last two days. Booted, suited and bowed, we met the morning with deliciously flakey quiche and our favourte bubbly.

Dex, taking some down time from the festivities

Giddy in  the way that only early morning bubbly guzzling can induce, we set up the tripod and posed for our family portrait. The morning passed in a blur of laughs, top-ups and catching glimpses of the actual event through the reporting of our on-site correspondents.

And let me tell you, it was possibly one of the most enjoyable wedding celebrations in which I've ever taken part. No hauling a clutch around all night, no seating arrangements, no small talk with strangers, ridiculously easy access to my tipple of choice (knowing that it's the good stuff), no queueing up for anything and no pacing ourselves (uh-oh, you'd think, but no!). Only thing missing was the dancefloor and the musical cheese.

Lunch rolled around to find us gloriously merry.  As we headed down the road to have a burger, there was a certain cachet to being the the giggliest people in the neighbourhood. And man, never has a burger tasted so damn good.