Thirty Seven

This October Keith and I will celebrate 43 years together. But tomorrow, May 26, we recognize our 37th wedding anniversary. Our wedding date is not as significant to us as our first date anniversary, but traditions dictate an acknowledgement of the union. We’ve enjoyed 37 years of wedded bliss with a healthy dose of  “Oh no you didn’t”, “You spent how much?”, “Wash it your damn self”, “You want us to move where?” and “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the diet pills may be making you a little, just a little mind you, um….not yourself” moments.

Keith made it his mission to ensure I never ran out of St. John’s Wart for PMS. And even with the St. John’s Wort there were days when I greatly admired Lorena Bobbitt. There were also days, even weeks, when Keith was so put out with me he was even more silent than his normal. The quiet times were the absolute worst and are many years behind us.  The joy, the bliss of our marriage, can only be measured by the contrast of our hard times. The bliss is our partnership through thick and thin, our incredible children (spouses included), and the everyday acts of true love like Keith rubbing my cankles, and me plucking his ear hairs.

Happy Anniversary My Love

Following is a link to a short story recalling one of the most significantly funny and true stories of our marriage. Click here to read “On Parade – Southern Pride”  dedicated to my one and only Don Quixote.