It’s our anniversary today. Twelve years. Hard to believe most days that we’ve been married twelve years, together fifteen. But we have, and it’s good.
I’d expound further on how wonderful my husband is, etc., but see, we painted this weekend. And the house is torn all to hell. And the boys think their parents are a tv in the basement, where it’s cool and refreshing. And we’re going hiking today (if A’s ankle can handle it…darned kid slid down the stairs on a large piece of cardboard yesterday as we were assembling Tom’s new office furniture and twisted it).
Happy Anniversary, Tom. It’s been an adventure, and as crazy as it is, I love it. And I love you. Thanks for asking me to marry you.