Eight Years Ago Today . . .

A. and I said our vows at the little white country church a few miles up the road. In those eight years, there have indeed been good days and bad, sickness and health. We've been richer and poorer, but always had enough. (Sometimes just enough, but enough nonetheless.) We have loved and cherished and occasionally wished to throw the other person out of a window.

That's marriage, you know.

We've progressed from a studio apartment in the ghetto in Phoenix to a crappy basement apartment in a respectable neighborhood in Albany to Blackrock. A. started with goldfish, then we got a dog, and now we have sheep and chickens.

And of course, now we have this:

"This" was desperately in need of a nap and could not understand why we were standing on a pier jutting into Lake Michigan at Indiana Dunes State Park at seven in the morning. He was a good sport anyway, though.

It's been a partnership in the truest sense, and I see no reason why the next eight years shouldn't be just as interesting. And the next eight after that, and after that, and after that.

We'll just keep on keepin' on, for as many years as there are. As we vowed, eight years ago today.