Yes, it was just eight years ago today that me and the missus got hitched in a candle ceremony, outside, on a day when the wind blew so hard that it blew over the arbor my father-in-law built (thank god it didn’t land on anybody – he built that thing pretty damn solid), blew the flame from the oil lamp we used to light the candles over so that it set my mother-in-law’s antique lace tablecloth on fire, and diverted every flight in the vicinity over my in-laws’ back yard, so so that we couldn’t hear a goddamn thing (still not sure if she said “i do” or “fuck no,” but the priest  – well, he was an ex-priest, actually, who’d quit the priesthood to marry a nun – signed the license, so I guess she’s stuck with me).

Fortunately, there won’t be any of that mushy, in the same state (let alone the same house) stuff this year, as I’ve cleverly managed to arrange for my wife to have the whole house to herself today.  Plus, she gets the dog.  It doesn’t get any better than that.  Anyhow, Happy Anniversary, Honey.  Try not to pick up too many strange men today (you’d be hard-pressed to find one  stranger than me, though this blog would be a pretty good place to start).  I miss you.

Our cake