When Marty and I were married, his mom gave us an enamel coated cast iron pot as our wedding present.  It was one of those things that I registered for, thinking that it was too extravagent to even place on the registry.  It seemed silly to spend that much on a pot, let alone to think that someone else would.  Marty talked me into adding it, probably because of the way I lovingly gazed at it in the store, skimming my hand along it's cool and sleek surface, whispering "Le Creuset" over and over under my breath.

I was so pleased when she gave us the gift.  It was so generous, and obviously something that she had really chosen for me, even though it was a gift for the two of us.  It didn't say this on the card, but I'm pretty sure the meaning behind it was this:

"Best wishes on your upcoming marriage to my son.  He's yours now, take good care of him.  Here's a really, really nice pot.  You deserve it.  Be happy when you use it to make good meals for your family."

And I have - enjoyed it, made good meals for my family, and taken good care of Marty.  We've been married for six years now, and although I mean this in the best possible way, it really feels like much longer.  Like six dog years, which is the equivalent of about 37 years.  Maybe that's not quite right either.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that it feels like we've been together forever, and our lives have grown and changed so much in the years since we were married, that it feels like life before him is just that far away.



Happy anniversary, honey.  May the next 37 fly by as quickly as the first.