To celebrate our anniversary today, Hubband and I did the following:

He went to work. I made three pans of stuffed shells, a huge bowl of 3 bean salad and floretted the hell out of some broccoli and cauliflower. We had air conditioning installed by a couple of adorable young men. We exchanged silly, mushy cards. We opened the dish a present my mother left mysteriously while I was talking to the cute air conditioning boys. We argued about the new picnic table. We had dinner, with Little Boy in tow, at the same restaurant in which we had our wedding dinner, eleven years ago, also on a Thursday. We kissed a lot and said mushy stuff in between the usual scratching and burping. We talked about hockey, because there's just no way to avoid it in this town.

Now Hubband is asleep on the sofa and I'm here, waiting for Little Boy to go to sleep so I can do the same. He has a problem, as I did at that age, going to sleep without the comfort of his parents voices to lull him. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, no manner of loud noise has been able to make Hubband do more than flutter a stray eyelid.

In case you are having the same problem, I will help you to Sandman Land with a little tale. I will tell you the story of our wedding.

Ahem...

Once upon a time there was a couple who loved each other very much. They wanted, more than anything, to get married so that they could spend the rest of their lives together (which would include her sleeping over on the nights his son was visiting!).

Hubband was all about waiting for the "appropriate" time to get engaged and married, etc., since his family had never lived in a trailer and had no relatives in West Virginia. They had "standards" and were concerned with what people at the Eagles would think if Hubband ran from one marriage right into another. They were still reeling from the idea of his being divorced, for goodness sake.

Eventually, though, he did ask her and Caribou did say yes. This was, of course, after he and several co-workers spent the companies time trying to fit the engagement ring into a fortune cookie, only to have Caribou decide at the last minute that she really didn't want Chinese food. Which is how the most romantic words ever uttered came to be, "Here. This is for you."

Caribou, being organized enough to make Martha Stewart nervous, immediately began to make plans. Unfortunately, at every decision appeared a huge obstacle. Her mother would not sit at the same table as her father and stepmother. An open bar would bother the alcoholics in her family. A cash bar would offend the alcoholics in his. They wanted to keep the guest list under 200. His mother's list was 250 alone. The hall, the band, the dress, the menu...each decision brought another argument.

So one night, they talked about what they wanted. Did he want all of this? No. Did she want all of this? No. Then why were they doing it? They certainly couldn't afford it and it would mean waiting six months to a year to put it all together. She suggested they just run off. He agreed. And the plans flowed from there.

Hubband arranged the ceremony: They would be married at 1:30 on Thursday, May 23, 1991 at the 52nd District Courthouse in Walled Lake, MI. He did a lot of work there so the arrangements were easy. Three people were invited: A couple who were friends and coworkers to serve as matron of honor and best man and Big Boy (who was then Little Boy)who would stand between them and hold the rings during the ceremony. Everyone else was told when and where the ceremony was being held. It was up to them if they wanted to be there or not.

Caribou found her dress at Lane Bryant's. It cost $75.00. She wore a watered satin bow in her hair that she found at a victorian store. It was supposed to be for hanging pictures. It looked cool, but she didn't really know that until the day of the wedding when she tried the whole thing on and hoped it would work. It did.

Best Friend Forever flew in with her baby from out of state for the event, making for much crying and more than making up for the fact that several friends more able would not come.

Having forgotten to do anything about flowers, Caribou ended up with two bouquets. One was from the Matron of Honor and one from her mother. She let the Matron of honor carry the ones she had bought herself.

Words were spoken, vows were taken, tears were shed and men walked by in shackles wearing orange jumpsuits. Immediately after the magistrate pronounced the couple married, the wedding party and guests retired to the McDonald's next door for light refreshments. The Grandmother of the bride provided the $40.00 for the food. The staff quartoned off a wing for the event and many people came to see the goofball wedding party.

After the luncheon, the wedding guests disbursed and the new happy couple went home to Caribou's mother's house where Hubband put on a pair of his mother-in-law's shorts (it was like 95 degrees that day!) and mowed her lawn. He came back in afterward, took a shower, thrilled the Grandma by walking through the living room wrapped in a small towel, and redressed in his blue suit.

By then it was time to attend the small wedding party at their favorite hang out, where the band (of which one had more than a little responsibility toward the event at hand) proceeded to play their favorite songs and all their friends attended, bought drinks and shared in their happiness. There was a wedding cake and presents and champagne. There was happiness and silliness and wine spilled and not worried about. There was even another couple, fresh from a Vegas flight, who had just been married as well.

The happy couple retired from their party, none the worse for wear, and were home in bed by 10:30 that evening.

The dress was retired to the garbage the next day.

Do I wish for the hoopla and the festivity? Sure, sometimes. Some of the time I miss the opportunity to register for stuff I really wanted. Most of the time the only thing I miss is really good pictures. (Crying friends and relatives take crappy pictures.)

I don't regret not being more in debt. (Believe me, we had enough of that.) I don't regret not being on my feet all day and having to smile at people I've never met who don't even care about me. I don't regret not being so drunk or tired that I couldn't enjoy my wedding night, or the next morning.

It's the way we work. Simple. Limited fuss. Take us as we are. And, right now, that's looking pretty good. My parents weren't together on their 11th anniversary the first time around and didn't make it close the second. And on August 1st we'll celebrate another anniversary: we'll have been married longer than Hubband and his first wife. (Petty? Probably, but I've earned it.) Are the hard times over? Nope. Never are. But we will survive them.

Hey, Hey.