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Margaret Rita (Meg) joined Leo Schlueter in matrimony two days ago. They're both graduates of Hillsdale College. His father is a professor of philosophy there. Meg's dad is, well, your scribe at TDE and an amateur philosopher, historian, and gardener.

Bride and groom come from large families. Immediate family, aunts, uncles, and first cousins alone counted for 250 guests.

It was a raucous affair, to say the least. Catholic full throttle, with the holier elements driving the Mass and the more, ahem, vigorous elements driving the reception. At one point, the DJ announced that the venue proprietor needed the crowd to stop jumping so much because the building was shaking too much . . . which brought cheers from the dance floor.

I think it will go down as one of the most (to borrow a current term) "epic" receptions ever.

I just wish I had been there to enjoy it. I say that jokingly, of course, but it was a brutal three-day run: from harvesting, 2,000 flowers on Thursday through Saturday midnight, I was constantly running: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Marie and I were both exhausted by the time the reception got here. I pulled out a Red Bull and vodka to propel me through it, but at times, I just retreated to a darker corner, sat back, and enjoyed the show. I'm not sure if I've ever been that exhausted.

The reception hall (well, about half of it). I grew the flowers (about 2,000) from seed . . . a fool's errand that saved me thousands of dollars but took a ton of effort.

Meg worked at a floral shop during high school and loves flowers. She wanted tons of flowers, which, of course, requires tons of money, or a cheap father who would rather grow them himself, so I did the latter. It was a difficult gardening year, but the effort paid off.

During my host speech, I told the guests that I grew the flowers and that the effort was fraught, but that I prayed and prayed and that the result in front of them was a testament to the power of prayer. I then added, "Of course, my kids are snickering to themselves, 'More like a testament to the power of the F-bomb.'"

We also served Coptic Lemonade as the signature drink, with mint I harvested from my garden that morning (except we used vodka, not gin). It was a huge hit.