A Lesbian Beach Wedding

This weekend I saw two 60-year old Carmel women dirty dance and grind to the floor during a Jazz Band version of Brick House.
This weekend I rubbed the bust of John Steinbeck to ward off future writer's block and ate mounds of fried seafood in the ocean view restaurant that took up residence behind his head.
This weekend I went barefoot more often than I wore shoes and jumped each time my feet touched the 50 degree Pacific coast surf.
This weekend I watched two proud fathers duel to get the last word and the last laugh as they beamed with pride and wiped a few unexpected tears on their daughters' wedding day.
This weekend I smiled as two young french girls, holding hands as they sheepishly walked through the sand, approached the brides and requested a picture of something they longed for, but could never have.