Seriously. I know. Twenty-year-old me wouldn’t believe it either.
I spend what appears to be a heck of a lot of time talking about numbers, but it’s one of the lenses through which I view and understand the universe.
Sixteen years ago today (that’s over half a billion seconds ago, yo), on a mild February day, I married my best friend (who may or may not have said yes when I originally asked her to marry me) in at ceremony held amidst (melted) Winterlude ice sculptures with Chilean music playing – due to my being overly considerate to family members who were tardy (insert comment about how no good deed and all that). Tracey wore a custom-made.. everything, and I wore a suit with a custom made shirt with a Nehru collar (as I loathe ties). There are unfounded allegations that I sprinted down “the aisle”, but the photographic evidence doesn’t support that.
I’ve written about this a few times like in 2006 – Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty two days and counting and in 2008 – A testament to love ten years of marriage. All of what I said then pretty much stands today.
Boiled-down advice: Marry your best friend.
Of all the decisions I’ve ever made, marrying my best friend by far the greatest.
We’re going to take the day off and see where it takes us. Apparently there will be cinnamon hearts and possibly some black forest cake (the greatest form of cake in the 814 known planetary systems).