Tin or Leather?

Tomorrow after work I'm going to be taking N to his Very First Sleepover. It will, of course, be at the infamous and still-much-beloved WeeyumWise's house.

Tomorrow, if there's a god, Baroy will be taking Em to her 3,978,645th sleepover. It will be at the house of, well, I'm not sure yet, because I haven't yet heard back from Choice #1's mother. But it will hopefully be somewhere. Because...

Tomorrow is our 10th wedding anniversary, and I intend to celebrate in style. What is "in style," you ask? I'm thinkin' wine. I'm thinkin' a fire in the fireplace. I'm thinkin' nookie. Best of all, I'm thinkin' not having to put anyone to bed except my husband, and I'm thinkin' not having to wake up until we wake up together. I'm thinkin' bliss.

Sound a little sedate? Well, I could remind you that we're taking a cruise in April, and so really don't need to be spending more of the money we don't have. But that would be misleading. Because, really, that is about as perfect an evening as I can think of. Booze. Ambiance. Sex. PRIVACY. Be still, my heart.

-------
Side notes:

1. I bought Baroy ten anniversary cards, one for each year, and I tried to do a little 'remembrance' of each year in each one. Question to self: You can't remember your own middle name most days. What the fuck made you think you'd be able to remember anything special about March 2002-March 2003?

2. Yes. The two Jews got married on St. Patrick's Day. Why? As I'm sure I've said before, Baroy has a very succinct answer for that question: Because it was the date the catering hall was open. But it sure did make choosing a color scheme for the wedding quite easy; we even signed our marriage license in green ink. And it makes remembering our anniversary easy, too. Win-win.

3. Em gave us a pre-annivesary gift earlier today: a little plastic heart-shaped box that was missing its lid and was filled with dried pinto beans and had one of those fake craft-jewels sitting atop the beans. "Oh," said Baroy, trying bravely to sound excited. "Beans! How...unusual!" Em pouted for a while, insisting that we didn't like her present. And while I tried my hardest ("It's great, honey. But it's...beans! Dried beans!"), she persisted. So now? There's a plastic heart-box full of beans and a craft-jewel emerald sitting on one of our display shelves. I know, I know. But still. She's eight! It's beans! All I'm saying is that I'm not keeping it there for the next six years or something. A girl's gotta have her standards, you know.