It was raining eight years ago. Pouring rain. If it was sunny, like it is today, I would have wonderful fall pictures in my wedding dress.
As it is, I have a bunch of pictures of me in a wedding dress inside a beautiful inn. There are also quite a few pictures of Pilot Boy ironing, yet not many of us together. I remember us being together a lot more during the reception than is shown on film.
Oh well.
Pilot Boy doesn't actually like having his photo taken. I've no idea why. He's pretty and photogentic.
Anyways, eight years later, and I still don't have many photos of us together.
Facebook reminded me today it was eight years (huh? Really? Am I that old?) since that rainy day in Vermont. The day I randomly picked out based on the fact I thought 27 would make a great day to get married and, hey, look it's a Saturday! Honest. I picked it out before he even asked me. Like, way before he even asked me. I happened to be looking at my calander at work (when I had a job!) and was staring at October. The girl who had the cub to the right of me had gotten married on the 28th. Or something, but, anyways, for some reason while she was trying to plan out her first anniversary, I was looking at my own calandar, a year ahead and saw the 27th was a Saturday. And, even though I've always loved the number 25, I decided at that moment, I liked 27. When, a few months later and I was calling inns in Vermont, the Arlington Inn had the 27th free, I felt like it was kismet.
Eight years later, my life looks exactly how I thought it would. I have a house, I'm still insanely in love with Pilot Boy, and we've got this little being. The only thing I didn't think I'd have is Basil Bea Dog, as I am not a dog person. But, I love the furry, barking idiot, so I wouldn't change a thing. Even this insane military life we are a part of, I wouldn't change it.
Eight years. It honestly doesn't feel that long. Then again, in May, it'll be ten years since I graduated from college and that feels like just a few years ago.
Man, I am getting old.
