Tuesday morning we walked to the town offices on Main Street to apply for a marriage license. This was literally the last day we could apply, so I was a little concerned about how it would go. There was a lot of information on the website, but never anything about bringing, say, a birth certificate or anything; as it turned out, it's because we didn't need to. As the assistant clerk checked over the two cursory forms we had filled out, we tried not to laugh at the list of illegal marriages posted on the wall: it started with basic stuff, like marrying your sister or your daughter, and moved on down the line to things like marrying your grandson's daughter. Ew.

We went back to Cedar Street for the car, then dropped the gown off to be pressed. The pizza place in the same shopping center had awesome steak and cheese sandwiches, so we ate there while fielding phone calls adding to our shopping list. We picked up rum punch ingredients at the liquor store, and stuff for the other cocktail hour jars at the Stop 'n' Shop.

That evening, the Simpsons came over for dinner, where we tried Greg's first attempt at chocolate sauce for the cake (a no-go), and the third round of cranberry margaritas. Apparently Greg's dad had been experimenting with a variety of recipes for Friday's Welcome Party, and now that Jeff was home, he had been looking for more recipes online. No one was terribly impressed with this iteration until Greg Howard doubled the tequila.