I’m bad at anniversaries. I’m pretty good with birthdays, I think—I put them on a calendar and then make a fuss on the day—but to tell you the truth, I don’t know the real day of my anniversary with Mr. Book. I know when we got legally married, I know when the wedding was, and I sort of know when we became a couple . . . but not the date. It was the Friday before Thanksgiving in 2002. We’ve never really celebrated it or any other anniversary, but this year we’re planning on going out to dinner (a day late) for the wedding one, and I got him a card. So.
Two years ago today I stood in my parents’ backyard and was married by one of my sisters. Best decision I ever made. I’m pretty critically short on sleep right now (p. sure this is teething), but not too short to give my husband fond looks and talk him up on the internet. He’s a peach, and I’m a lucky woman.