Some women are anniversary nazis. They require celebration for the anniversary of the first date, the first kiss, the first sex, the first everything. And of course, the anniversary of marriage. I'm not one of those girls.
Today was my anniversary. I didn't realize it until sometime Friday, and I spent a whole day thinking it was actually tomorrow. I did go out and find a perfect card for my husband, and wrote him a love letter on pretty paper. (Paper is the traditional first wedding anniversary gift. It seemed fitting, since I'm a scrapbooker.) I'm okay without a big fancy celebration. I don't even require flowers, or jewelry, or a fancy dinner.
But I would've liked to have seen my husband today.
Instead, he left for work at two a.m and isn't home yet, with no sign of returning anytime before I go to bed. I'd like to say it doesn't hurt a little, but it does.
So I dressed up in a pretty little dress, combed my hair for once, and ran errands today. Grocery store, health food store, homeschool field trip to learn how to make butter, and I picked up something like 400 pounds of peaches and delivered them to friends around town. My sister-in-law, aunt-in-law, and my aunt all called to say happy anniversary. My husband didn't... he doesn't have cell phone service where he's at.
I'm not holding it against him personally. It's not like he can help it.
But there damn well better be flowers, jewelry, and a fancy dinner in my future.