Happy anniversary

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Eight years ago today was what The Husband still calls “the hottest day in history.” Just because he had to stand outside in what was probably close to 100 degree heat, dressed in a black tux. I think my bridesmaids were probably the coolest people there since I had chosen lightweight, sleeveless dresses for them.

We managed to get married without anyone passing out from heatstroke. And here we are, eight years later. We met thanks to my aunt, who worked with The Husband and decided to introduce us. My family was trying to get me to break up with this other guy I was seeing at the time because they didn’t like him. It wasn’t like I was planning to marry that guy or anything. I knew from the beginning that we wouldn’t last long, but come on, I was seventeen. I think everyone is allowed to date at least one Mr. Wrong in her life to help her figure out what she really wants.

But my family wanted the guy gone and decided to play matchmaker. So The Husband and I were introduced. That night he called me and we talked for three hours. Two days later, I broke up with the other guy and fifteen minutes after that, The Husband called and asked me out.

He’s still the person who can drive me completely crazy one minute, but then have me laughing so hard I’m crying the next. He’s still my best friend and number one supporter of my writing. Happy anniversary, Monkey Butt!

In celebration of my anniversary, my day job is having ice cream this afternoon. Okay, not really. I mean, we are having ice cream. But we have a celebration each month for the birthdays and work anniversaries, and this month’s celebration happens to be today. But while I’m eating my ice cream this afternoon, I’ll just pretend it’s in honor of my anniversary.

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