Yesterday was my 7th wedding anniversary. To celebrate, a few photos:
(Please forgive the blurriness; I have no scanner.)
The happy couple.
The ladies in waiting.
The world's ugliest wedding cake. But it tasted good. I swear!
Last evening Lance and I went out to dinner to celebrate. (Heidi--I'm telling you, pure rockstar--babysat the monsters.) On the way to dinner, he pointed out to me the many Starbucks where he spends his days, drinking lattes and partaking of the wireless access. Then he began comparing and contrasting them, discussing, for my pleasure, the various pluses and minuses of each one. And I thought, "Hmm. We've been married for 7 years and he still thinks this kind of thing is interesting to me?" Aloud, I just laughed and said, "Wow. They really always make their milk too hot? Good to know, babe, good to know."
That's love, people.
Lance, thank you for being the same guy, but better, than you were 7 years ago. Thank you for working hard so that I can stay home with the kids; and for hardly working so that you can help out--a lot--at home. Thanks for the thousands of walks you have taken the kids on at 5:30pm, leaving me time to wind down from a long day. Thanks for putting up with my sorry attempts at cooking, and for usually forcing down the food without comment. Thanks for accepting the fact, with good humor, that I must go to sleep before 10pm every night or be useless the next day.
I can't wait to see what the next 7 years will bring.
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