Cape Cod retrospect

How nice it is to sleep in your own bed, shower in your own bathroom and drink your own coffee after a four-day whirlwind wedding planning extravaganza.

Kelley is off to work. Judy is sleeping in a sunbeam. Daniel, my youngest brother and temporary dogwalker, is crashed out in a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch. And I am on my third cup of joe, sixth load of wash and first box of tissue with my Northeastern head cold. I love this morning.

Cape Cod was awesome. The Secret Garden Inn was just what we had hoped. Commercial Street is the main drag in Provincetown, lined with t-shirt shops, art galleries, gay bars and seafood restaurants. The inn is tucked back on a tiny brick path off of Commercial Street, close to the action, but one step removed.

The inn has no wasted space. The front yard is crowded with plants (only the impatiences were still in bloom this time of year) and a brick walkway with room for tables and a bit of dancing. A gazebo sits in the far left corner, a hottub is tucked back beside the porch and the entire space is hidden by a high, wooden fence. The captain's house has about six small bedrooms just big enough for a bed and a bureau and a suitcase, though the colors and fabrics and pillows are luscious and quaint. The bathrooms are shared (except for the bridal suite) and the kitchen is anchored with a large wooden table that is always decked out with fresh pancakes or yogurt or cheese and wine. We spent a good part of our vacation sitting around it with the innkeepers (recently relocated from NYC), their friend Charlie (who somehow got taken off to the drunk tank one night while conversing with drag queens) and two Brits who were on holiday. We drank martinis and watched the Red Sox and tossed a squeaky toy for the resident Yorkie, Chloe. The whole place will be ours on July 28 and 29, 2006.

Tom is a caterer by trade. He whipped up some wedding dinner options for us on his computer. We've already put in our requests for appetizers, food stations and cake -- which will remain secret to keep Kelley happy. We didn't try any of the food he suggested, but he cooked a couple tasty meals for us while we were there, so we're crossing our fingers that our choices will be yummy. Now we move on to price negotiations.

For being the gay wedding capital of the U.S., Provincetown was surprisingly deplete of any wedding materials. There were no stationary options and just one store sold awful cake toppers. We did pick up a book of poems for vow ideas, but otherwise we had to spend our money on "Hillary 08" t-shirts and bowls of lobster bisque.