Today is our nineteenth wedding anniversary. That January 2nd was cold and wintery. We didn’t take any of the outside photographs that we had planned on. You wouldn’t have been able to see us behind the foggy clouds of our breath anyway.

Carter, who is ten, was looking at the wedding picture of Lyndon and I that sits on my bedside table. And what he wanted to know, I kid you not, was who are those people? And then, after I told him it was his dad and me, he wouldn’t believe me. No way. Really? No.

We’ve changed a bit.

This week I’m looking ahead and I’m planning some stories to live this year. And since today is my anniversary, what better way to begin than with a great relationship story.

Okay. Yeah. Hmmmm. Well. Ummmm.

I have to say, it sounds a lot easier than it is. I’ve been thinking about it for a few days, and I’m having a really hard time coming up with something, a story, that would be about my husband and me. Because he doesn’t want to read a book and I don’t want to take a hunting trip. This is the problem.

So I’m kind of wimping out here, and I’m putting this story on hold. At least, the specifics of it. I know we will take on some kind of challenge or project together, but the details are still a little fuzzy. We’re going to spend a bit of time talking and planning. And when I know our story, you’ll know our story!

How’s that for a post about, basically, nothing? But it’s our anniversary so I felt I need to say something about us, even though I didn’t really say anything at all.

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