Today, fourteen years ago, my DH and I were wed in a pretty place called "The Mansion at Elfindale" by a trombone player who happened to be a wedding officiant that my stepfather played with in the dixieland jazz band, The River Rats.

Sounds weird when I say it like that, but it was rather lovely. (No live music, tho.) About thirty other people attended the festivities and we capped the event off with a honeymoon in Eureka Springs, Arkansas.

I was twenty, he was twenty-one.

Funny thing. Neither of one us actually proposed to the other. We'd been dating a few months when one evening we started planning our dream home together and ever after that we just knew. Several months later DH was in a pawn shop for something, don't remember why, and he happed to see a gold ring he liked and wanted for a wedding band. He brought me to see it and I loved it (still do) so we looked around and found a wedding ring set for me, too, and voila, enganged. A few months later we got married. It all rolled out very naturally and simply.

Talked to mom yesterday and she said, "Fourteen years you've been married to That Man?" like it was a bad thing! She's mostly teasing.

I'm terribly happy to still be with That Man. And not only because he's probably the only man on the planet that would have put up with me this long.

We fit. Our neuroses are compatible. My weakenesses are his strengths and vice versa. We complete each other. That's not to say there haven't been hairy times, but through it all I've always known, that He Was The One. We are meant.

That day was the happiest day of my life. The years since have been very, very good.

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