This past weekend encompassed two wonderful events: Barry & Catherine‘s wedding, and Texas Sandfest 2004.

The former was held in San Antonio, and was rather remarkable. They had a tremendous number of people turn out to support them as they begin life together. That support was made very concrete during the course of the ceremony, as the officiating pastors opened up the microphone for anyone who cared to come up and speak in support of the couple. The reminisces, prayers, and well-wishing were a wonderful addition to the ceremony. We only got to speak to the couple briefly at the reception afterwards, but they seemed every bit as happy and excited as one would expect. (This may have had something to do with the fact that they’re getting to take a rather extended honeymoon in Thailand — one of the potential advantages of putting off marriage until one is a bit more firmly established in life!) It was also a treat for me to get to see many of the old guard from Trinity Baptist Church, the first institution of that sort I attended willingly. (“Daddy, you know everyone!” was the surprised reaction from my kids.)

Sandfest was even more fun than usual, as Meara came with us this year, both to get a dose of Texas coast life and to help out with the kiddos. We didn’t get to do much actual building this year, as by the time the wedding had (mostly) finished up and we were able to get down to Port Aransas, the awards for the amateur competition were already being distributed. (Our San Marcos Suns acquitted themselves handsomely, as usual.) The band played Saturday night, and we spent the day on Sunday playing in the ocean and building sand edifices at tide’s edge. Liam and Emily both did some body surfing for the first time, and we rented a boogie board on which the kids could perch while Kathy and I raced through the shallows towing them as fast as we could run. The only disappointing aspect of the trip was that our camera vanished while we were on the beach, leaving us bereft of photos for both the beach and the wedding.

Now we’re home and back about the business of schooling, job-hunting, and the raising of children.

We have a new addition to the household. Emily has been cultivating a farm girl persona for quite a while, part of which has been a steady, low-grade lobby for a chicken of her own, going as far as to check out and devour a book from the library on the care and feeding thereof. It should come as no surprise, then, that after a recent trip to our local hardware store she came home with a $0.99 ball of fluff named Gregory.

Gregory, a naked-neck chicken, has begun to imprint on Emily, and will cheerfully race around the house after her. The other children are, naturally enough, insanely jealous of this latest addition, and have shown a renewed interest in caring for their guinea pigs since I informed them that would be a good way to demonstrate the sort of responsibility that’s required to get a chicken of one’s own.

We’re still a bit unclear on what our local zoning laws have to say about keeping a chicken or two in one’s backyard, but hopefully if we keep it discreet, it won’t become an issue. (Though it would almost be worth it to get to tell potential employers about my criminal possession of a chicken.)