one year

This weekend, Marcus and I celebrated our first anniversary! One year ago, we exchanged our vows surrounded by friends and family, full of love in beautiful Amsterdam. We thought our first-year celebration in Portland should be at least half as momentous. There were drinks at Departure (thanks Vanessa!), an amazing dinner at Bamboo Sushi, live music at Brasserie Montmartre, morning coffee at Stumptown, breakfast at Clyde Common, and a trip through the snow to Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. And lots of anticipation for the years to come.

On the eve of our anniversary, I received a sweet note from our wedding photographer Chris Spira with a re-edit of one of our favorite shots, (pictured above). I thought it would be a good time to (finally) show some of the small details of our wedding.

Below: Invitations made by Follow Studio, cakes made by my fearless family, the ceremony room at Huize Frankendael, the table setting and my bouquet, the bicycle Marcus rode to the ceremony, vases of flowers and pots of Dutch honey.

All photos by Chris Spira.

Transporting Love

Today is Valentine's Day and I find myself reading Alain de Botton's book Essays in Love. By chance, instead of being on one of the less love-y chapters, such as 'Romantic Fatalism', 'Intermittances of the Heart', or 'Romantic Terrorism', this morning I was at the chapter 'Speaking Love' where de Botton analyzes the difficulty his experience of first trying to articulate sentiments of love for his girlfriend Chloe.

There seemed to be no way to transport love in the word L-O-V-E without at the same time throwing the most banal associations into the basket. The word was too rich in foreign history: everything from the Troubadours to Casablanca had cashed in on the letters. Was it not my duty to be the author of my own feelings? Would I not have to fashion a declaration with a uniqueness to match Chloe's? I felt disconcertingly aware of the mundanity of our situation: a man and a women, lovers, celebrating a birthday in a Chinese restaurant, one night in the Western world, somewhere toward the end of the twentieth century. No, my meaning could never make the journey in L-O-V-E. It would have to seek alternative transportation.