(This will post to my Author FB Page, too, I believe.)

I have long reveled in my status as a free, single author. Sort of a female Hemingway. (OK, he had multiple wives.)

I have worked for those street creds.

I have eschewed marriage for a number of reasons that are better shared over alcohol or with one’s therapist. I have considered a change for several years, but I have observed in current society that too often women still become little more than chattel in a legal union. I use strong female characters in my fiction and nonfiction to battle the issue.

After 15 years of drama, I have . . .  married . . . the person who has stuck by me through the carnage. Eloping to fave Key West and leaving the raging flood waters of Washington, D.C., have brought a peace I am afraid will evaporate as we touch down at Reagan National.

The back story is long. I summarized with a series of single words and phrases to paint the so-called “word picture.” I will tell you I had planned to wear my mother’s stunning gown from 1957, but the tea-length FULL skirt seemed a bit much on an island where shirts are the exception and the tatooed find their place. The dress I chose is a silk Trina Turk, never worn, that I happened to have in my closet. Peep-toe shoes  come courtesy of Kate Spade.

This is my second marriage and it has been one of the simplest events I can recall in our 15 years, thanks to Rudy Schulz (the guy in the photo) who is Mister Calm to my perennial Chicken Little.

Secrets to a great wedding: No engagement. Tell no one (OK, maybe your VW mechanic). Go off, do it. If you want people to know, post it in Facebook. Kids or parents? Tell them the day before, but do NOT invite them. Spend on the essentials. Skip everything else.

Now we combine households into my cozy Alexandria pre-WWII city cottage.

Author Gina Maria DiNicolo and weapons purveyor Rudy E. Schulz.