Jessica and I are on our way back from Boston today, having attended our ump-teenth wedding of the last few years. The wedding was held at a woodsy retreat and conference center, surrounded by miles of forest and peppered with fire pits and rope courses. It was the sort of place companies bring their employees to do “trust falls” and modernized versions of Native American rituals. A large pond full of lilypads and waterfalls surrounded the narrow strip of land where the ceremony occurred.

It was a hot, humid affair that unfolded amid a torrential downpour, but it was still a very beautiful, well-organized event full of strong mojitos, wonderfully decadent cupcakes and a wide variety of hummus. Jessica’s father married the couple, taking advantage of a Massachusetts state law that allows any individual to serve as a legal wedding officiant once per year. In case you’re wondering, this doesn’t mean he can get people out of traffic tickets. What’s what he tells me, at least.

Interesting note: The aforementioned hummus was served in miniature martini glasses. They were called “hummus-tinis,” Jessica tells me. Unfortunately, I don’t actually like hummus, but everyone else seems to – and they consumed a heck of a lot of it over the course of the night. Me? I drank mojitos all night and swatted mosquitoes.

We drove back to Medford last night in a torrential downpour, floating our way through a few flooded intersections. Good times.