Eleven

Today, 11 years ago, I got all gorgeous , put on a simple but fabulous white dress, an extra long veil, and walked down a church aisle to marry Berry Guy.

It was an excellent day, even when the side zipper on my dress split from top to bottom during our pictures before our ceremony and I had to be sewn in to the dress with fishing line.  Even with that, it was a fabulous day.

I can’t imagine being married to anyone else.  Quite frankly, I don’t know who else would put up with me.  I love the way he teases me and harasses me, and the ways that he takes care of stuff around the yard and house.  I love it when he washes the cutlery because he knows that I hate it.  I love it when he wrestles with the boys and plays “sleepysaurus”, and I love it that when I make a new, less-than-spectacular meal, he’ll eat it and never flat out say that it sucked (although there may be some mocking later on…)

Our anniversary plans were derailed due to a serious shortage of babysitters, so I’m salvaging the weekend by baking him an Oreo Cheesecake (his favourite) and by making him pick up take-out pizza from the *local* pizza place (my favourite - and I’m still not sure if it’s a good thing that they can recognize my voice right away when I call in…).  I don’t mind a quiet evening at home with the cheesecake one I love, and I’m looking forward to relaxing on the couch in front of the fire with a movie.  And the cheesecake Berry Guy.