Made It To Tin, Hoping For Diamond

What the heck kind of tin gift are you supposed to give your spouse on the tenth anniversary, anyway? How about a nice can of chili? That's the gift that keeps on giving! Ten years ago today, I married my dear, sweet husband. My Stewart Little, my Andy-Candy-Pants, my.....nope, those are the only nick-names I have for him.

I so much wanted to write a beautiful, profound tribute to him and our decade of marital bliss, but that's just not me. It's hard to be sappy about Andrew. We are simple. Our love is comfortable. He is my best friend. He occasionally makes me want to throw heavy objects at windows. (But less often than you might think.)

Our wedding day was everything that I hoped it would be. Except for the cake, which was a disaster of a carrot cake masquerading as banana creme underneath that beautiful bead-adorned frosting. When Andrew put a piece of that cake in my mouth it gave me such a shock that I almost spat it out. But that wouldn't have been very lady like, would it? Oh, and I could have done without the multitude of pictures my photographer took of Andrew's sisters, (and one of his brothers), licking his face and groping his pecs. What was up with that? And also, I didn't especially appreciate the black flatware the caterer brought as though it were a funeral, or the DJ who actually had the nerve to play The Macarena in spite of my explicit instructions to keep that horrid song shelved. But all of the important things were perfect.

Since our wedding day, I have been learning to tolerate Andrew's gas, his inability to close a dresser drawer and his love of sauerkraut, and he, in return, has been trying to ignore my compulsive worrying, choke down my cooking and act as though my obvious revulsion at the sight of the blisters on his feet doesn't hurt his feelings. Things are going great!

In a lot of ways the past ten years have flown by with surprising haste. We've been through a lot of moves, four children, several jobs, ups and downs, fights and make-ups, and days and days filled with mostly incredible memories. I don't think I believe in soul mates, but I know my soul needs Andrew. Even when he calls me Devil Woman and leaves empty soda cans in the kitchen sink.