Eight years ago today Tom and I got married in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
To celebrate, instead of following suggested tradition with a bronze gift, my mom and dad took our kids for a few days. We’ve never done this ever, never ever. Not even close.
Everyone keeps asking what we plan to do with our free time, and with the enthusiasm most people would use to describe a trip to the Amalfi Coast, I respond, “I’m going to put all the stuffed animals in the stuffed animal basket, and watch them as they stay there.”
Happy anniversary, Tom. Sorry I compare the sound of you eating chips to “a bulldozer driving through our living room.”
Thanks for always complimenting the way I fold your t-shirts.
(Oh, and also for being the greatest ever.)