of anniversaries, 21 weeks, 6 days

Yesterday was our three-year wedding anniversary. Three years since we got married, outside in the August sun, danced our pants off to bluegrass music in a barn, and ate strawberry rhubarb pie until our bellies ached. Eleven years since we started dating, after sharing a Hi-C at a concert for a terrible collegiate band and smoking pot in my dorm room.

Inexplicably, we spent our last two anniversaries on a secluded beach and in a leper colony, respectively. Incidentally, both of these locales happened to be in beautiful Hawaii.

With a new job for her, medical residency for him, and a gaggle of cells beginning to resemble a baby boy on the way, Hawaii was, you know, not in the cards this year (your pity is palpable).

So here we are. Having a low-key dinner at our favorite neighborhood restaurant. Singing along to old records. And rearranging our furniture to make room for the baby who, with each passing day, reminds us with frenetic kicks and starts, that he might just arrive sometime in December.

But to prove we’re still young! hip! and very, very adventurous!, C got us a Vitamix blender as an anniversary gift. Because if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: nothing says romance like a well-blended smoothie.

I guess this is what the French call “le nesting”? (whatever it is, I'm digging it).