At this time 11 years ago, I was making my way to a salon in Woodstock to have my hair done – a bagel with cream cheese, a vintage costume tiara and my ridiculously large slew of bridal party ladies in tow (thanks for putting up with it all, you guys). It was a crazy day of butterflies and bliss. And by the end of it, I was married to my college sweetheart.
The next day, Owen and I shipped off in a frenzied ride to the airport where we got lost trying to find the car rental return area, the shuttle bus and then the plane which would deliver us, after 10 really red-eyed hours, to Greece.
It was glorious! All of it. Just like our marriage is.
Owen very wisely planned to propose in the year 1999 so that we could be married in the year 2000. He wanted the math to be easy, so he wouldn’t upset me if he couldn’t remember how many years we’d been married. But I think I’m the one who is grateful for the help.
Here’s to 11 years of marriage, babe. And 11 years more. And maybe a third set, after that…