Four years ago

today we were ensconsed at Caesars Palace, primping ourselves before we ran downstairs to get hitched. I was still waitng for my dress to come back from the cleaners. And waiting. Aaaand waiting. It finally arrived (uncleaned and unpressed) 15 minutes before the ceremony so we hustled downstairs and did 'er up right. And? Get this: I didn't freak out over the dress. Not even a little. I think the wedding coordinator wanted to cry. What the hell, if I bought into that "this is the most important/best/most memorable day of my life" crap, I was going to be in for a sorry sad life afterward. So I was all zen & shit and if the dress didn't come, I had a skirt.

But the dress came, and we skittered on down to the wee garden and had a lovely wedding. Then we traipsed off to dinner and watched our friends and family get loaded.

Hooray!

Happy anniversary, baby. I loves you the most.