martyrs no more

Yesterday was a good day for "lapsed Mennonites," as my good friend Joel calls them. He should know, because he's one of them, and his Saturday was be pretty darn damn good. His wedding ceremony was at two o'clock on the sixth floor of the Kansas Union on the KU campus, and it was a lovely affair. Joel got a little choked up as he said his vows. And I was so tickled I leaned over to Allie and said, "Maybe we should have one of these."

Two days earlier I met up with Joel and a couple of his buddies for a night of mild man stuff, cigars and booze (for them -- I stuck to Kaliber), and Joel mentioned that our fellow, more famous Anabaptist, Floyd Landis, appeared to be headed for a loss at the Tour de France. He'd had a bad day in the mountains, Joel explained, and it didn't look like he'd bounce back. Then this morning I picked up a paper and saw that Lancaster County Landis had mounted one of the most incredible comebacks in the history of the Tour and clinched the yelllow jersey.

As Joel said in the comments on my blog a few days back, "Lapsed Mennonites rule!" I can't help but believe that Landis's victory and the Mathis wedding are cosmically linked. A special day indeed.