It’s
September. That time of year when the air is cool enough to let you
enjoy the sun beating down as you sit on a terrace sipping a glass of
sangria.
I’m laughing with my best friend about her disastrous dates.
I
used to be able to relate, but recently, it has been all about which
flowers will be in my bouquet, who makes the guest list, what to do with
those relatives I haven’t seen in 10 years but Mom says I “absolutely
need” to include.




