Back in the early days (read: before children) we used to go on vacation in October. After The Professor came along, it turned into long weekend trips with our child in the care of his grandmother and aunt. Our last long weekend trip, which must go back a good six or seven years now, ended with The Vulcan going to sleep at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night, leaving me in a Lexington hotel room watching Larry King. At that point I decided a simple dinner out, childfree, was about as exciting as it was going to get.
|OK, maybe the man's not completely without sentiment|
|From my fab mother, handmade tote bag and organizer in a motif of travel trailers. |
Airstream escape fantasies, anyone?
In my early twenties I probably would have been depressed to think that romance would be totally gone from my life. Instead I find myself too busy (and too tired) to care. It could be because my concerns are more global in general or focused on my children in particular. I'd like to say I've grown up, I've matured, but readers of my blog know that can't be it. Perhaps I'm in a rut and too distracted by my latest knitting project to notice. Whatever the reasons, I don't find myself depressed to have stayed home on my anniversary, with a day as ordinary as any other. Maybe I've grown, maybe I'm heading towards enlightenment. Or perhaps I'm mentally saving up for that big-ass gift I'm gonna make sure he gets me for our 20th anniversary.
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* HOW DO I LOVE THEE?
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