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Last week Rodney and I celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary. I’d like to say that we planned an extravagant evening out on the town, retreated to a luxury hotel room, and enjoyed some breakfast mimosas in front of a roaring fire. 

Instead, it went down like this:

Phone conversation, transcript, November 13, 2014, 8AM: 

MUM: “Happy Anniversary Jess!”

ME: “What?!”

MUM: It’s your 10th anniversary today, remember?

ME: [silence]

We are not good at remembering dates.

Each year my Mum reminds us of our anniversary by sending flowers. This year, I could tell that she was somewhat shocked that we hadn’t even remembered our 10th. She tried to brush it off “Well, there have really been so many anniversaries, it is hard to keep track…” but in her voice there was a trace of “get it together people.”

It’s not that we don’t care for each other – in fact it’s the opposite. Every day feels like a celebration. We eat most dinners at home together, often after the kids have gone down, accompanied by a glass of wine. We make each other laugh; bleary-eyed tear-filled laughs. Yes, we irritate each other in the way that couples do. I am mostly to blame. But there is love, lots of it, and we remind ourselves of that frequently.

But 10 years….it’s something that should be commemorated, if not with a bronze plaque, then at least with some tequila.

By some twist of fate, there were exactly two tequila shots left in our bottle of Jimador that we smuggled back from our wedding in Mexico. Not easy for a Tuesday night, but sometimes you just have to do what it takes.

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We’ll plan a big dinner out soon – once we get through the holidays, the merriment, the wrapping, the unwrapping, and the sheer happy fatigue of it all.

For now, we kept things simple, because a weekend at home beats any evening out….

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Last week we enjoyed our last full week up at the lake and I shared some of my favorite last moments in last week’s post. As a final Summer sendoff, I’m doing things a little differently this week. I had such a fun time revisiting my New York City pictures and processing them through the Waterlogue app before we left for the lake – I figured that I’d do the same with my Summer images. The set of pictures is quite long, but when you’re choosing from hundreds of memories, it’s hard to pick just a few…

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

Painted in Waterlogue

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kids_FeedMeDearly

“I wish it were Summer every day” Lauren told me last week. “That way our Summer would never come to an end.”

And that, my dear girl, is exactly why Summer should come to an end. Nothing is special unless it’s sacred. A weekend isn’t indulgent unless it’s well-earned. And so, too, with this perfect string of weeks that separates Memorial Day and Labor Day. Days that bleed into each other, leading me to ask on repeat – “is today Friday?”

Rodney was traveling last week, so we did what we do on most days, which is make things up as we go. It was our last full week at the lake.

Last visit to the Ringwood Farmer’s Market (at least for a few weeks) to pick up some really big shoe-matching carrots…

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Last time to make a mess of my closet and try on our bridesmaid and flower girl dresses for an upcoming wedding one…more….time…

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Last time to crash our friends’ houses for frozen treats. Those red treats, dangerous….Unless you intend to look like Batman’s archenemy, in which case, perfection….

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Last few hangouts on the dock with aging furry friends…

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Last time to walk the patio with the intention of…

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….making shoes; that’s right, that was the day when they piled Rainbow Loom bands on the ground and made some desperately-needed footwear…

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…and a pair for me…

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…a pair for all of us….

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paddle_sunset_FeedMeDearly

Last week, we were invited to a friend’s birthday dinner, usually cause for celebration, but this time it resulted in a mild panic attack. While getting ready for the evening, I started to question what to wear, something that’s been happening with increasing frequency. Somehow, when I made the decision to leave my corporate job last year, I got sucked into the mom wardrobe vortex of cords, chunky sweaters and other items that can best be described as “comfortable”. Any sense of style was promptly diverted to the unused part of my brain that’s responsible for random childhood memories and bad first dates.

So these days, instead of embracing an evening out, I look through my closet, and think….“Will this outfit look good with these shoes?”

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The answer of course being “no”. These heels were bought circa 2009 when gladiator sandals became the shoe of choice for people whom I will kindly refer to as “those who remove their clothes for a living.” Emma modeled them on Saturday morning to remind me that I’m no longer 25 with a questionable taste level. To the Salvation Army they went and I’m at least happy that the worst offending item in my closet is now deceased.

Arrest-worthy outfits aside, the dinner was fun. I sported a sizable headache on Saturday morning, my barometer of a good time. Rodney & I dusted off a family size bag of Thai chili-flavored potato chips for breakfast and hit the road, lake-bound, for what promised to be a beautiful weekend.

Warm weather meant a few firsts for the season…

First dinner outside on the deck….

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