Today is the day that I celebrate 29 years with the man I love.

Happy anniversary, Atticus! 

(photo courtesy of Stock.xchng)

Here we are, in Paris!

Except, oh, wait.

We've never been to Paris.

But that's okay. Because even though what we're really doing in our real life is strolling through the grocery store together, or curling up on the couch for Downton Abbey, or asking one another about the van and does-it-need-gas-and-why-is-it-making-that-noise, or listening to each other vent after a bad day, or talking about our children and their futures and the cost of college, or thanking each other for all the breadwinning, cooking, cleaning, teaching, snow-shoveling, yardwork, laundry, petcare, oil changes, trash-hauling, and toilet unclogging that goes on in the everyday lives of our very everyday selves ... even though it's all that, and not all that, well, I have to tell you, it feels like that swoony, black-and-white photo of a romantic walk in Paris.

So thanks for making my life feel that way, Atticus. Happy anniversary. I love you.