Sweet sixteen

Our marriage turned 16 this Friday. Brian calls it our Sweet Sixteen Anniversary and I think it fits. He puts up with my cranky days without complaint, and I think I've mellowed out a bit over the years. The last time we had a really big fight the kids thought we were going to get a divorce. I decided that was actually a good sign: we fight so little nowadays that the kids think it's a momentous event. We made up for that fight by going out to dinner at Pizzicato, which is now our new favorite restaurant and where we spent last Friday night. It's great being 16 years into your marriage--the kids are old enough to watch themselves, we find each other hilarious (we may be the only ones who do), and we still think the other is good looking (again, we may be the only ones who do--Brian's growing a full beard, and in his black wool coat I made him buy this winter, he looks hot).

He had to fly to Charolette that day, early in the morning, fire someone, than turn around and fly back. What a way to spend your anniversary! But he managed to stop off and bring home a dozen white roses, anyway. If that isn't sweet, I don't know what is! Happy anniversary--I love you.