This is the salad for my pseudo-roommate's father's third wedding tonight, that was announced via email three weeks ago.

October 13th, 2013, 5pm

It was 16.7°C. The breeze was gentle.

Letting her sort out shoe choice (gold heels to match the sequin lightning bolts on the dress), I folded the wheatberries and cranberries into the chopped beets and spinach, dressing the leaves with one hand and adding white wine vinegar, olive oil, goat cheese. “Great,” she said. “This will be the only salad among the rice and beans.” Looking down at her dress, she sighed. “Puerto Ricans don’t understand irony in clothing,” she explained as she fastened gold hammered hearts on her ears.

Now I am at the wine shop buying Gavi to drink while I sit on my fire escape and watch the sun set before tuning into her livestream of the wedding for family around the world, including her husband (their daughter should be asleep) in Berlin. They are secretly married, as so many of my friends are lately. Something about not naming the thing.

Allan, David Wade, Julia, Cassie and 3 others said thanks.

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Kristen Taylor

drinker of raw milk, founder/editor of @saucymag, call me @kthread

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