It’s our anniversary. Break out the fancy cutlery and set the table for two. Pour some snappy chardonnay and warm the brie. Iron the satin sheets and dim those lights. Put on that shirt I love you in. Or put on that nothing I love you in.
It’s our anniversary, blog reader-people. Our 50th anniversary. Ours. You and me. You and Irving, although now it’s like I’m describing some mysterious love triangle, and everyone knows triangles get beyond complicated, major quick.
So let’s keep it PG. Since it’s our 50th, tradition says you have to get us (me) something gold. Great – I’ll take anything gold (except golden loonie chocolates. Ick). Irving will take something gold too. He can turn it into hipster man-bling; gold is so mainstream, it must be ironic by now, right? Continue reading