Eight

As of yesterday, I have officially been a married woman eight years. I did a little research, thinking I'd find the national marrying age to be about where I am now, twenty-eight. I was mistaken. 28.4 is the national average for a male but for females it's 26.5. If I followed the national average, I would be married just over a year and a half. Certainly not eight whole years.

I sometimes forget just how crazy it was that I got married at twenty. I mean, I am still head over heels for my husband. And I can hardly remember life without him. But the conversation about how long you have been married just doesn't come up every day, so I don't think about it often. For some reason it has come up a few times - with various random people - in the last week or so. And I've been reminded afresh that it both was a) kind of crazy, yet b) made total sense at the time and c) is the best decision I have ever made. Maybe I wouldn't recommend it for my brother (who is turning twenty in August), but for me it was beyond fabulous.

I am married to my best friend. My strongest ally. Someone who loves so many of the same things I love but has his own list of passions and interests. Someone who loves the Lord - and people well. Who is really good at what he does...and a long list of miscellaneous other things too. He is wise. He is kind. He is compassionate. He is a great dad. And he gives really great massages. I am one blessed woman!

We celebrated our anniversary in Spokane this year - for the first time in about six years. We're usually at the lake, like last year. So we enjoyed a dinner out at a fabulous place downtown and then headed up to a venue down the street for some live music, decaf, and delicious dessert. It was the perfect summer night, spent with the man I love.

And we just had to take a picture of our plates. Jono even boasted that his goat cheese stuffed chicken over cheddar grits with asparagus and prosciutto would make his top five meals of all-time. My Alaskan salmon wasn't too bad either. Yum.