I'm not one to stick to convention, but something happened over the weekend that has caused me to reassess my philosophies, my personal life philosophies, and to regard the future with a sense of wonder and roller skates. Let me share it with you, so that you can glory in my joy! (You're welcome.)

This past weekend marked the wedding of my dear friends Kent and Lydia, a beautiful event held amidst a grove of redwoods in Larkspur, CA. The morning mist softened the light, making the bride glow with beauty, unfair and deeply jealousy-inspiring beauty, which we will not hold against her due to her overwhelming kindness and grace.

I was there with the Keelhauler, who had chosen his own tie for the ceremony, and several auxiliaries, just to be safe. His perfect skin inspired much comment from the ladies, and I promise to reveal his skin-care secret later in this entry. Seated next to me was Sweetheart, who only two weeks previously had been the glorious bride, unfairly beautiful, at her own wedding; and her new husband Mathrock, elegant in his own right, wearing a fab suit with cufflinks bearing the cloisonn� image of a crane. (The heavy equipment kind, not the avian friend kind.)

And then there was me, of course. I was there too, gawking around at all the fab guests in their halter-top print dresses and metallic wedge heels. I had decided on the Librarian look for my attire, mostly by default, but my point really is not about attire.

My point is that during the reception, I looked around at all my happy friends and their husbands or fianc�s, and felt a slight pang of wistfulness. The Keelhauler has made no secret of his uninterest in being married, and it's distasteful to me to harangue him about it. (Haranguing = distasteful. Discuss.) Not that I'm above a little haranguing, but the idea of haranguing a guy about getting married strikes me as pathetic and clich�d. I would prefer to save my pathetic, clich�d experiences for other subjects, like complaining about my hair, or buying too many shoes when I'm feeling overweight.

But I'm not going to say I haven't thought about it. It's hard to ignore the idea of marriage when two sets of good friends get married within two weeks, and you have three more weddings to attend in the next month. Tell me all you want about the importance of not judging yourself against the experiences of others, but you try sitting in the corner and not thinking about the white bear.

I think that the bride overheard my internal monologue, because late in the reception, as the guests were finishing their drinks and getting ready to head out, she walked to the front of the crowd and hurled her bouquet directly at me, yelling "Catch!" There was no way she could have missed; she was three feet away. I doubled over, laughing into the bouquet, while everyone cheered. "Gotcha," she said, cocking a finger at me.

(I later staged a picture in the parking lot that makes it appear that I fought off a crowd of girls, including the groom's mother, who is technically not single, in order to get the bouquet.)

So... you guys! Catching the bouquet means that I will be the next girl to get married! It's practically guaranteed! Right? Right? I know: it is so awesome. I can't wait for my Magic Day! I really hope the Keelhauler can get off work, but if not, there is a vacancy in the Groom Department, and I am taking applications. I haven't set the date yet, as I must meditate and light holistic candles until I receive the proper signs from the Universe, but suffice it to say: I am going to be the next bride, no doubt at ALL.

Also, tomorrow's my birthday, for those of you who might not have written it down. I'll wait while you get a pen. Ready? October 4th. Violet White. Registered at Gump's and Hermes (for that riding crop I've been wanting).

SO, now that that news is out of the way, here is the Keelhauler's secret to perfect skin that the girls all love. (While I find their admiration and attention to him a slight amount irritating, I am so busy planning my wedding that I cannot think about matters like that.) Please see illustration:

ILLUSTRATION

And to top it off, here is a picture of the lovely new bride at Left Bank, at the party after the wedding, before she spanked the two bartenders. (See illustration.)

ILLUSTRATION

Star of the day. . .Miss Havisham