Thank you for all the wonderful anniversary wishes! The day was simple one. As we often do, we talked about our wedding day, remembering the little and not so little things that made it so special. We exchanged cards, gave Scoutie a big kiss, and took off in the car for Woodstock.
If only I could use PicMonkey’s ‘soften’ effect in my everyday life. It rather nicely takes away all the hard edges. I think that’s a bag from IKEA in the back. We had the windows down (it was a gorgeous day) and the bag was apparently blowing around. It looks like it might attack me at any second!
We had lunch at one of our favorite places – the Garden Café. It’s a vegetarian restaurant with a delicious menu; so beautifully and imaginatively prepared. We sat outside and basked in the autumn sun.
That’s the dessert – a brownie with a chocolate sauce and a bit of ice cream. We shared it. We came home and watched the Red Sox play the Tigers. Unfortunately, Anibal Sanchez, the pitcher for the Tigers, was just too darned effective and the Tigers won: 1-0. That was the rather depressing end to the day.
I forgot to include this in my 15 Reasons post yesterday and it’s so important. So I’m going to cheat and add Reason number 16 that I love being married to Don: we are equal partners in this marriage. Neither of us has more say than the other. If we disagree with each other or have a big decision to make, we talk it out until we come to an agreement. I chafe at all the ‘Head of Household’ stuff I see on forms, etc. There is no Head of Household here (unless it’s Scout!) There are two intelligent adults who have both similar and different sensibilities. Our different takes on things can lead to a spirited discussion, to be sure, but I do not defer to Don, nor does he defer to me. We figure it out together. He is my equal partner and I am his. We like it that way.
From our wedding day – one of my favorite pictures.
Time for a little story about our wedding dinner:
After the horse-drawn carriage ride through the beautiful streets of Nevada City, the six of us retired to a private dining room where we had a lovely, intimate wedding dinner. Everyone ordered their choice of entrée. I can’t remember what I ate, but I do remember Don ordered spare ribs. We all laughed and talked and had a wonderful time. At some point as we were finishing up the meal, Don said, “I have a confession to make.” Uh oh. Ominous words on one’s wedding day. He was clearly upset.
Turns out that as he ate his delicious and messy spare ribs, he reached under the table, which was covered in a beautiful white cloth, for his napkin, also white cloth. He wiped his barbecue sauce covered hands on the napkin. Wait a minute. It didn’t feel like the napkin he had used before. He peered under the table and saw, to his horror, that he’d wiped his hands on my white wedding dress.
Yep. My wedding dress has barbecue sauce stains.
Well, I was a bit peeved at the time but in the end, I laughed, as did everyone else. I mean, I wasn’t going to wear it again, was I? And my dear husband, known for dropping food and getting stains on his clothes, obviously wanted to christen my wedding dress in his own unique way. We still laugh about it every year. The dress is in a protective bag and hangs in our closet, barbecue sauce stain and all. Like the cast I wore on my ankle that day, the barbecue sauce stain is part of our wedding story.