The words “cheap” and “wedding” don’t often stutter-step down the aisle together. The average wedding nowadays goes for somewhere in the ballpark of a down payment on a house – not a shack, not a one-bedroom tin-can, but a respectable two-story with a garage and plenty of schools close by. “The budget of that wedding today was more in the ballpark of the down payment on a Ford Probe. I was so overdressed in my sundress and fancy wide-brimmed wedding hat, I felt like the Duchess of York at J-Lo’s backyard barbecue,” Leslie lamented, flopping on the bed in her dress that Sarah Ferguson would only have worn in her pre-royalty days, slumming it. Maybe. “Your ‘wedding hat’?” Roy repeated, stripping off his dress shirt and tossing it blindly across the room. “I didn’t think there was any such thing.” “Of course there’s not any such thing as a wedding hat.” She twirled the object in question on her finger, admiring its sleek grace, and feeling rather stuck up about how stylish it had ma
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