Nine Years

Nine years ago today I woke up and got dressed and ate breakfast and married my husband. I remember not being nervous at all because why would I be? I was marrying the best guy in the world and it was the surest thing I'd ever done in my life. Nine years later (or thirteen and a half, depending on how you look at it), I can say the best decision I ever made was to gather up the courage to call him up and ask him out on a date.

For your enjoyment, here's a blurry iPhone photo of the wedding picture I have on my desk:

We got married in my sister's living room - a tiny ceremony with only our closest friends and family. Afterwards my most excellent friend Ashley provided a beautiful reception with hot tea, and treats and bowls of white Jordan almonds. There were hydrangeas on the mantelpiece, thanks to her and I love that image even now. I was hopeless back then when it came to any kind of decoration but thankfully I have my Ashley and she made it look effortless. Still does, in fact. I think if I thank her one more time, though, she'll kill me dead. Now that's what I call a friend.

So there you go. Nine years of marriage and in the words of my friend Emily, "I like him pretty good."

PS. In case you want more dirty squash action, please to read this.