Weddings typically signify the beginning of two people’s lives together, but the Rachael and James story has been unfolding now for many years. The first Philadelphia chapter. The brief Washington D.C. chapter, which was followed by the even shorter Montana chapter (well, for one of us). But we’re (both) back in Philadelphia now, our home. After all this time, we’re finally getting married and, suffice it to say, we’re pretty sure about it.
It all began at a pub, where Rachael was busy checking out the young-Mark Hamill-looking bartender and James was busy watching the 76ers (neither of which really seems fitting for the two of us in retrospect). But that was the beginning: two people who were not looking for anything special or anything at all eventually found an unexpected love in a person who was, in a lot of ways, really quite opposite.
Even so. Most who know us know us as a composite, two things belonging together. Peanut butter and jelly. Fish and chips. Sookie and Bill. Jim and Pam. Crocodile and octopus. Come join us in making the world an infinitely better place—the official joining of Rachael and James. It’ll be the biggest thing you’ve ever seen.
(That’s what she said.)