I told you August is ooey gooey with love stuffs. I know, it’s gross. You can look away, but our eyes are locked. I blush, he laughs, I giggle, he smirks. *siiigh*
Yes, we’ve always been this way. No, I don’t know what’s wrong with us.
We do honor our anniversary. We aim to ditch the kids and make the most of couple time, but sometimes it’s on a stupid Tuesday or whatever, and that’s a bit harder with school. Even harder when The Mister was in school, too.
“Oh, you have to read about the Bolsheviks all day?” Reading is sexy.
Sometimes we can’t get away and have to staycate. Staycating is hawt.
Twice we’ve moved into new homes on our anniversary, which I think is special.
The Mister has always taken our anniversary off work like it’s a holiday. Twice, he arranged for his R&R in August, specifically so we could be together on our anniversary. Cottaging is hot like literal hot because Florida, August, sun, heat, humidity. August in Florida is QUIET. It’s like you OWN the whole beach, so you can be LOUD, as one tends to be after months apart. *achem*
On a more family-friendly note, when it’s been 242 days since you’ve seen one another, part of the joy is sharing the happiness, the togetherness.
In the case of small people, say a wee four-year-old girl, astonishment meets delight when it’s not just mommies waiting at the bus stop.
Two weeks together after 242 days apart — suddenly the mundane feels like a celebration.
August has always been a good month for us. Our anniversaries, no matter how they’ve been spent, have always been better than our actual wedding day.
Today is no different. #18 today!
A total eclipse of the sun, they said.
I Googled and Googled and decided that it may actually be possible to get into the band — either Nashville, Tennessee or Carbondale, Illinois sounded promising. The Mister loves Tennessee. I don’t, mostly because I don’t like driving there. I like my grids, thanks. Too much round and round and up and down for me and my vertigo. But would he want to Nashville on a Monday? And how long could we stay? And who would supervise the teens? Who would taxi them to their specials?
Carbondale had the advantage of being near friends and also, much flatter. But the same questions arose and we discussed the traffic, the predicted gridlock. My in-laws were out of town, Bubba was in town, so we opted to stay home.
We had a breakfast date at Cracker Barrel. At Cracker Barrel, I order the Old Timer’s breakfast: Two eggs over easy, hashbrown casserole, grits, one biscuit with gravy, another biscuit with blackberry jam, an orange slice, and bacon I put in a napkin and take home for Sadie. And then, I pretty much don’t need to eat for 10-12 hours.
What I did was go home and get back into bed, which is NOT a bad way to spend Monday morning on your anniversary.
The eclipse here was meh. Like any ol cloudy day.
Being TOGETHER on our anniversary is still a celebration.
Every day we’re together is a celebration, even when it’s more like He-Man vs She-Ra, oil and water, out of the frying pan and into the fire — “When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object” — and it IS like that — Quite A LOT. We grow from that. Closer. Together.