Welcome back, Pat; looking forward to your return to the Land of Blog!
Dennis and Bill came over in the morning to put the drawer pulls on the new built-ins in the study. It's now complete and looks great.
E-mailed Mike after I found the card for the azalea plant--as I suspected, it was from him, and was to Pat for Father's Day. I wrote that we could regard it as a joint Father's Day and anniversary gift, and he responded that was fine by him. He said he was writing (on his Blackberry) "from the back of a moto-rickshaw in Pune, India."
Went to Hamilton Mall to pick up various. I look forward to the longish car trip (26 miles) because I'm still listening to Sophie's Choice--it's very long (24 CDs). I had read it years ago and find the story as absorbing--and harrowing--now as I did then.
As for books in print, I'm back in my murder mode. Love reading about real-life murders and picked up Laci Peterson's mother's book For Laci (I often re-read books and have read this before), as well as another about a famous murder case involving the well-to-do in--I think--Texas. (I'm too lazy to go in the bedroom and check.)
Got e-cards from Ellen and friend Lynne, plus a congratulatory message from Patrick. Already heard from Mike and I'm sure Alison will check in. I plan to make Pat's favorite, veal cutlet, for dinner, and we'll just spend a quiet day. All I really want for my anniversary is for him to feel better.
Okay, forty-nine years of marriage. We're still together and still getting along. I feel about Pat something like I do about my arm or my leg. There's not always an active "aw, shucks" kind of Warner Brothers love, anymore than there is for my limbs. He's there, he's constant, he may be a pain from time to time (like my arthritic knee), but I can no more imagine life without him than without--well, my arm or leg.
Here's a definition of love from that old cynic, James Thurber: "Love is something you go through together."
Yep.