The following pictures were taken by my great-aunt Kanae Hirabayashi, who at the age of I-don't-know-what (the internet says at least 70) has taught herself to be a demon at digital photography and is now famous all over the birdwatching world for her photographs. Go ahead and do a search on google. She shows up all over the place.

This should, as nothing else, give you an indication of just how formidable my mother's side of the family can be. My mother used to be a mountain climber. My deaf great-aunt is a master wood sculpter. My sister is a ranger for Yosemite National Park. Me, I squeal at pedicures. I took after Dad's side of the family.

From left to right: Rod, Yan's younger brother Kim, Yan, Nana, one of Yan's best friends from childhood, who flew in from Ethiopia just for the occasion. On the girls' side: me, Amanda, and my sister Sako.

Looking up at the Lower House in Hakone Gardens (why is it lower when it's higher?)

Three generations, four women, five cracked nuts. From left to right: me, my mother's mother, my mother, and my mother's younger sister.

Age = shrinkage. Left to right: my grandmother, my mother, me, and my sister Sako.

Aunt Hideko (on the left) and Mom (on the right) helping our grandmother (in the middle) down the gravel path.

If you put me in between, it would look like a meatball sandwich. Easy to tell where Sako got her genes.

Okay. Tell me this shot shouldn't belong in a magazine. My sister is gorgeous, and I don't think I'm speaking just from bias.

Yan with his mother, talking to Rod. Rod arranged his bachelor party. This explains his slitted eyes. I think he's trying not to let any light in.

The groom's party, waiting while poor Nana guides my 3-foot tall little grandmother down the aisle. From Left to Right: Rod, Kim, Yan's Mom, and Yan. I'm sure there's a reason why Yan's staring at Nana's shorn head and fondling his own. He'd been morbidly shedding for weeks before the wedding.

The groom's party, waiting for the bridal party. Look at them up there. Yan's groomsmen look properly dignified. They were hung over from the night before, maybe. Yan, on the other hand, was hopped up on cough syrup, which explains why he's so cheerful on the verge of irretrievable matrimony...

My matron of honor, Amanda, who looks outstanding and incidentally looks like she's enjoying herself. Just for the record, do you realize the kind of grace and balance you have to have, walking down a gravel path in high heels? Note that I didn't put up the picture of Sako doing the same. She was on low heels and she still looks like she's about to take a tosser. And this is a girl who climbs actual mountains.

Notice how I'm actually leaning on my fragile, toothpick mother. High heels. Gravel. Need I say more?

Poor Mom. She was embarrassed to kiss me at the end of the aisle, and then she had to wipe my face clean because she left lipstick behind. Your children always find a way to humiliate you in public. At least she didn't spit on her finger and rub my face with it like she used to.

Ceremony. Nana, playing preacher, and nervous as all blazes but doing an amazing job of hiding it. Yan, pretending he's a dyspepsic penguin. Me, pretending I'm paying attention....

Changed my engagement ring to the other finger before I walked down the aisle, which completely confused Yan. There was some argument before we negotiated a finger. It went on. I haven't managed to get it off since. I think my finger's pregnant.

Yan looks like he's about to grin. He's actually about to sneeze. Poor, sick, married man.

Our photographer posed us like this. It's the only time I only have, count 'em, one chin. Amazing what a little stretching can do.

Kiss. No explanation necessary. We had a diabolical photographer.

Sako and her ex (maybe) John. He is gorgeous. They are gorgeous. They are gorgeous together. Is it possible I sort of wistfully wish they were still together? At least they're friends.

No, really. I mean it. Gorgeous together. Not that I'm ever subtle or anything ... but they'd have such adorable children.

I should point out that my father's younger sister was apparently giving him the eye. Checking him out. Salivating. And he wasn't the only one, either.

I might be biased, but my husband's sort of cute. You can barely see Binky in the background. She's sort of fuzzy. And the back of that head belongs to my cousin Brian's wife, Lauri.

Mom talking to my uncle, Dr. Murray. My uncle taught me piano for years. Irish and Japanese, incidentally, makes Italian. I kid you not. You should see my cousins. They're glorious.