Mike and I had our five year anniversary this weekend. We went to Woodstock, stayed at a B&B, and mostly slept, read, and ate delicious food. The B&B was on a stream and there was skipping of rocks. The sun was out and hot, and we sat in Adirondack chairs and read long-overdue library books. We walked into Woodstock and window-shopped, and looked at art. We took a nap. I ate cherry jam with breakfast. It was so great.
I was dealing with a horrible gastrointestinal illness that caused my insides to roar like a dragon in a number of terrible ways, but I didn’t stop eating the delicious foods or from making them spicier than they were delivered to me. Clearly, this was something that was going to need to pass with time. Saltines and clear broth wouldn’t have helped. (I don’t think.) I regret nothing.
On the way home we took the scenic route – seriously, we added an extra 100+ miles onto our trip, and drove all around the Catskills. It was just lovely.
So five years ago today, I met this guy Mike at Ikea. He said he thought it would be a nice place for a date, and, worst case scenario, he needed a new TV stand anyway. We left without a TV stand and a month later he was brave enough to come to my birthday party and meet all my friends en masse. He brought me a pair of pajama pants he’d sewn himself. Nicely played, new boyfriend. Nicely played indeed.
post number three in #35to36