Life, Writing, Weirdness

Well, that wasn’t yesterday.

Or even the day before.

On this day in 1995, I married the love of my life. Thirty-one years and three grown children later, she hasn’t killed me yet. There’s still time.

I pull this picture out on this date every couple of years, but very specifically not on milestones, I think. This year isn’t a milestone beyond the idea that every anniversary should be a marker of some kind. Depending on where I look, this is either the Ebony Anniversary or the Timepiece Anniversary, both of which seem odd to me and I think I’ll ignore them in favour of the Spending Time With My Wife Anniversary.

Happy anniversary, my love.