The #1 song
on the day we wed was The Boy is Mine
by Brandy and Monica -- awwww. Okay, so maybe that song is two girls fighting over a guy, but still -- "The Boy is Mine" is not a bad title for a wedding day.
This year was pretty mellow, which is saying a lot given the "passionate" nature of our personalities. We are not "same as it ever was"
, nor are we each other's "everything
I was thinking about what to get Rich for today and I thought for a moment about getting the Michael Buble CD with the everything
song, but two things -- it's a guy singing to a girl and, "you're every line, you're every word, you're everything," is not something I can convey with sincerity. The rest of the song works, but when he coos the refrain, what I think about is how I've come to rely on Rich's addiction to workahol and how sometimes he strays from that path and is part of my world in the morning -- it's not a pleasant surprise. No, it's irritating. I don't care why he's still here, I want to know when he's going to leave.
He can come home early in the afternoon -- that's usually pretty cool, but don't mess with my mornings. I have things I do which set the pace for my whole day and when he's looming around it screws the whole thing up. In fact, I've learned to not even attempt my stuff when he is around because it quickly becomes an exercise in irritation -- if he's home I call my girl Tawny or my sister Robyn, "what are you doing? Yeah, he's here...I don't know, I hope he leaves soon -- he's driving me nuts..."
When I think of someone being someone's everything, I think a person would be excited to hear the sound of tires on gravel signaling the arrival of their heart's desire instead of the tire/gravel combo signaling departure and generating relief.
When we are retired it will be different because we play well together, but right now we are not retired. Unexpected togetherness isn't an opportunity for play -- for some people, sure, but again, for us? Not really.
So where is the romance in this anniversary ode? It's in the boxy cut t-shirts over that one pair of jeans I love, just thinking about the way he moves and how it all comes together with that particular casual look -- warm, fuzzy, butterflies, pitter pats -- the works. It's also in the cup of coffee he left for me today. We ran out of coffee yesterday and didn't remember to pick any up -- it was just as I was sadly recalling this fact that I saw the 16 ounces of gas station gold sitting in front of the coffee pot. He does love me.
Tonight we are going to a French restaurant
of our favorite restaurateur and if Joe does French food with attention to the finer details of flavor, like he does with steak and sea food or northern Italian cuisine -- we are in for a treat. Flavorful sauces await -- I'm salivating.
As for a gift, I was thinking about a cool piece of pottery because 9 year is pottery and who doesn't like a cool bit of pottery? But then again, I may just go to the mall and get him another pair of those jeans.
The boy is mine.
Labels: I can't believe I thought I had baggy arms, rich, Richie love