A Decade

Jed and I celebrated the year of tin or aluminum last week.  

Ten years is a minor milestone to the "years of..." creators. It is my opinion they were either written in the depression or by a large group of penny pinching misers.  The sixtieth year is the year you get the diamond ladies.  Of course we'll all be dead or blind by then.  Anyway, 

Jed was good to follow through and brought me a shiny roll of Reynold's Wrap, kidding, he brought me home a tin (silver/tin-tomato/tomahhto) ring.  Tin/aluminum year could not have been done better, especially after a lovely weekend escape. 

Red Rock (the version you have to pay for)

All these years we've never been to the real Red Rock.  It's pretty, if you like trees better than sand and a million foreign tourists that you just know are going to careen to their death in such a natural environment.   However, the real moral of the story is, what better place to celebrate a solid foundation of marriage than among ROCKS.  Yes, rocks are the perfect metaphor for our marriage.  Strong.  Colorful.  Everlasting.  And can be easily buried in the  backyard, should the woman rock ever crack.  

Our one picture together before I fled the hurricane force winds and vowed not to get out of the truck again.  

Majestic.

At one point in our relationship I thought three months was a long time.  Ten married years is a lot longer than that, yet has gone by in the blink of an eye.  Jed still makes me laugh at all the right times, listens, and supports my Grand Master Plan.  (He came home one day from work and assumed I would know what GMP stands for in the construction world.)  We have our disagreements, even though he knows I am always right, and someday's I am driven to playing the piano in a very "purposeful" way but we love each other and have a rock'n marriage.  Sorry I couldn't help myself.  Also-not to be confused with rocky.  Yikes!  Here's to fifty more, I'm holding you to that sixty year rock.  

Really, I'm done now.