Two years ago today I married my favorite person in the whole world. In two years we’ve moved four times, been to Houston, Vegas, Oxford, Jackson, Little Rock, Shreveport, and Oklahoma City. We’ve replaced one of our cars, bought (and subsequently watched die) a new freezer, developed a working budget, watched the SEC win 3 national titles, helped some good friends get engaged, and eaten about a million pounds of chicken.
In addition to all that, we’ve had arguments, made up, started to learn how to NOT push each other’s buttons, begun a grueling work travel schedule, started a job working nights, prayed a lot, held hands, learned to sleep around the cat, made a lot of plans and had God laugh at them, survived a concussion, a broken foot, a broken finger, moved across the country, and learned to be best friends.
I’m glad I married you, Stephen. I’d like to go for 60 years. I figure that puts us at 87 and 90 and I figure that’s just about long enough for anyone to be around on this earth. I love you and I’d rather spend a Saturday morning watching SportsCenter with you than doing just about anything else in the world (except perhaps some R rated things).
Next year let’s fix this terrible trend we have of being in separate cities on our anniversary. It’s so not my favorite.