T-minus five weeks. Happy-sad.

You'll notice from the progress bar that most of you have told us that you are or are not joining us for the wedding. As it turns out, we were worried about the wrong things: overstuffing the tent, breaking our caterer's back, and driving my patient in-laws to "what are we going to do with all those people?"

When we created the guest list, we knew we'd have to make some difficult decisions. But in the end we invited most of the people who live in our imaginations week in and out. You are the folks we admire, whose model shapes a facet of our lives, the ones we delight in keeping company with. I know we don't see you as often as we might. But you can't turn off our affection even if you want to. Of course you have lives, budgets, and a less-than infinite capacity for inviting family turmoil by decamping to Rochester for two days.

Relieved that everyone has chairs and meals and cake, we are sorry we won't face the happy problem of fitting some of you in. To those of you who are coming, be sure to grab a beer and raise it to the friends and loved ones far away.

Dowry or Brideprice? Ah, shucks, everyone pays!

In the old days - pick some date in history about which you know nothing - dowry was assumed. The father paid the groom , depending on your view of the world, for the expense of setting up a household with his daughter, or as a signing bonus for shifting the cost of supporting the girl off his household profit and loss statement. The nearest thing to it today is the help ($$) that the bride's father (traditionally) gives toward the ceremony. And I've already said, though we've had help from many quarters, we're not having a traditional wedding.

What I was doing last week could be called "brideprice." But then, I volunteered. I spent the week with TWIL's dad and stepmom. We cleared brush, moved neglected piles of firewood, cleared some more brush, then pulled up patio paving stones and put down some that were far nicer, not just where they were but over a an area so wide that it's now the place where we'll have cocktails after the wedding. So you could call it "gullible," "sucking up," or for the good-natured among you, "only fair," because much as I love them, I would have to be crazy to do what they're doing. We love the way they're crazy.

Now, we did have help: Chris Danielson and girlfriend Jess Franco were in town from Boulder CO. He was laying paving stone, too, thank god. Another wedding guest and long-time colleague of Lee's, Peter Mear, was also hard at work. Mike Ferro, brother in law and husband of Ellen (sister), also spent 2/3 of a day humping stone like a Trojan (even though the cliches are right, it sounds wrong, doesn't it?).

Lee, Jean Roberts, Alan Betz (brother in law), and Karen Betz (sister). Apologies all around for this snapshot. Really, it's the best of the lot.

On Friday night, my sister Karen, her husband Alan, and their daughter Katherine came to a barbeque with my mom, Jean, and dad, Dave.