'Tis official: we have a minister for our wedding. We may now get married. Officially.
We've got a chapel. We've got a reception. We've got a photographer. I've got someone to marry. We just had no one to marry us.
He's retired. Called Reverand Russell. Sounds all sweet and grandpa-ish. Should be good times.
And I don't even know if I should say this out loud, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway. He sounds rather old. So my only fear is, will be be alive in 10 months and 21 days? OK, forget I just said that.
Really. Do. I don't want to jinx us. Besides, Russell sounds precious. Next time we go home, we get to meet him.
Hooray, Reverand Russell.