19 Years is a Long Time -- Happy Anniversary to Us

Frankie and Bob. September 16, 1989. A beautiful day, a short ceremony at Stav Kirk, also known as The Chapel in the Hills, in Rapid City, South Dakota. It was perfect except for one thing.

Mom made my dress. I hated it. There, I said it. Great to get that off my chest, because I don't know that I have said that before. I had picked a lovely gown that fit me, fit my body, and fit my personality. Mom wanted to make a dress, picked the pattern, and I hated it. She made the bridesmaid's dresses, too. From the same pattern. And my flower girl's dress. Same pattern. Then she complained that it was the hardest pattern she had ever sewn and that she shouldn't have agreed to the pattern I chose. Oy.

I was thankful, though. It was just a dress, the event was what was of importance. She made the veil, too. I -- oh, never mind.

It is hard to imagine that we have been married for 19 years, but it's true. I have the gray hair to prove it. How come Bob has no gray hair?

Happy anniversary, honey, in case you happen to actually read my blog. Here's to many more.