Happy Anniversary, honey!

Big with full am I . . .

          You are de beste, way, way, way . . .

                    On the 18th of April, in Ninety-five;  Hardly a man is now alive . . . 

Nineteen years ago on a rainy day at the town hall in Copenhagen, my honey and I were married. It was a beautiful setting and he was the most handsome man I'd ever seen.

We promised to "love each other through the vicissitudes." (We did look up that word before we made the vow.)  We said "yes" to each other and to a life together. Although we've seen some of those valleys, I remain a very lucky woman.

My honey is intelligent, funny, caring, generous, and respectful. He reads, cooks, does the dishes and the laundry, and knows how to fix things. He loves to ride his bike, take walks, canoe and camp. But the best thing about my husband is that he accepts and loves me as I am.

We're not together on this day, but I wish he were here with me, because I always have a better time when he's around.

OK, he's not perfect. He can be cranky, doesn't love to travel as much as me, and really doesn't like to be told what to do, even when he's asleep. But none of that matters, because we fit well.

Here's to the next nineteen honey! I love you. We can celebrate when I get home, but my gift to you (besides all these nice words) is that you don't have to get me anything!