Twelve years ago, today, my husband and I got married, at the ripe old ages of 20 and 21. I know, I was practically an old maid. A couple of Yucci Indians, who lived in the jungles of Bolivia said so. They did. And I was 15 at the time, so at age 21, I would've been... like... an old maid + 6. Cause in their village, the women get married around age 12. So, it was a good thing I snagged me a husband before people really started to make fun of me. All it took was a big stick and a blow to the head, and he was mine. Ok, so I didn't hit him over the head with a stick. I bribed him. But I think he came out of the deal pretty well. He gets to live in a purple house with 3 kids, 3 snakes, and a million cats and bunnies. And he only has to hang in for 53 more years. Because when we married, I told him he had to give me at least 65 years of marriage. So if you do the math, that's 53 more years.
So to celebrate, we're going to do something we obviously don't want to do in front of the kids... I'm talking about dinner and a movie, of course. Marshall's parents are visiting this weekend, so we get some babysitting. Which is rare these days. Our last date, sadly, was in December. So we're gonna live it up, and I plan to
I'll leave you with a picture taken of us during our 1st year of marriage. It just keeps getting better and better!