You know the old song lyric, "I love you a bushel and a peck"? Let's change that to "I love you a decade and a half." That's right, folks: The Tangerines celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary tomorrow. We've done no shopping, made no plans, bought nary a greeting card. Because who cares, really? We're not into the traditional trappings so much. Heck, we spent our first married Christmas not with our families, but on a belated honeymoon. (Snorkeling off St. Croix and getting sunburned on Christmas day, in fact.) Now, for our 10th anniversary, I wanted a Tiffany anniversary band, and that's exactly what I got. This year? I figure if Mr. Tangerine ever gets around to choosing a pair of speakers for my computer (not that I need the speakers—but it bothers him that the Mac's wee built-in speaker's sound quality sucks), that'll be good enough. And one of these months, we'll actually order the plasma TV he wants—for his birthday present two months ago, I dropped my objection to having such a monstrosity in the house. It's the thought that counts, right? We are beyond needing trinkets to demonstrate our love for one another.
Ben's big kindergarten show* takes place on Friday morning. My mom's spending the night tomorrow night so's not to have to drive in rush hour to make the 9 a.m. showtime. Hey! Maybe she can babysit so the Tangerines can have an anniversary date. She can put Ben to bed, fire up the TiVo to watch the House two-parter (Omar Epps is clearly being positioned for an Emmy "for your consideration" campaign. He laughs! He cries! Give this fella an award!), and wait for us to return home from a hot date.
Although...we just had a pre-anniversary date last Friday, when my oldest and dearest friend and her partner babysat. The Tangerines ate tapas; Mr. Tangerine had two mojitos and I drank two glasses of white sangria (which I suspect was adulterated with flavorless turpentine, on account of the migraine that took up residence inside my head and lingered for days). So we're not hankering for another date just yet.
I used to insist that Mr. Tangerine get me a card for all the standard Hallmark occasions, but these days, I don't much care about the cards. He's a good man, a good husband, a good father. And he puts out. So, who could ask for more?
What's your favorite birthday/anniversary/Valentine's Day memory involving no gifts?
*The kids in Ben's** homeroom will be dressed like cowboys and cowgirls as they sing "There's No Business Like Show Business." Did Ethel Merman ever wear cowboy boots? And where the hell am I going to track down a kid's cowboy hat tomorrow?
**Ben has pinkeye, by the way. We're giving him antibiotic eyedrops, the generic name of which is my all-time favorite medication name because it's so fun to say: moxifloxacin. It's got moxie! And sounds like Flopsy and Mopsy, without Peter Cottontail.