I'm not overly sentimental about posting lovey-doveyness on the internets, so I won't really go there today. But I will say that I feel unbelievably lucky/blessed/fortunate to be married to Paul. He is such a wonderful person who lifts me up when I'm stressed or blue and makes me laugh every day without even trying. And it doesn't hurt that I think he is handsome and smart either.
Paul and I are kind of in love with our birthdays. We have conversations sometimes about why June 23 or October 17 are the best days of the year and why June and October are the two best months of the year. These are actually really funny conversations (to us) where we pretend to be all superior about when we were born as though the seasons had arranged themselves around us.
And the inbetween time - June to October - is the golden time of summer and hiking and celebrations and fresh peaches and changing colors. It is also the time of year that we are both the same age, which is kind of ridiculously magical itself. Neither of us really cares that I am eight months older than Paul, but the fact is that I have been 29-facing-30 for the last eight months and it is kind of nice that Paul joins me in that today. I will tend to pipe up and offer that we are BOTH 29 more frequently than when there is a difference in the number. And come October 17 Paul is going to make a big deal about how he loves my birthday because it means he is growing young again for the next eight months. Silly, I know, but it is kind of a game we play.
We were trying to think the other day about what birthday presents we have given each other over the past six years of marriage, but were mostly unsuccesful at bringing up the recollection. Mostly I remember the olive oil and vinegar jars I bought for Paul on the island of Capri when we were in Italy for his birthday and the dirndl that he secretly shipped home from Germany to surprise me with in October.