Waiting one more day won’t kill anybody

A quick note, since it would seem odd not to at least  MENTION our eleventh anniversary:  it’s our eleventh anniversary.

First, my congratulations and thanks to Emily for loving and helping me in countless ways over the years, such as by gradually replacing some of a 23-year-old’s bad habits with a 34-year-old’s not-quite-so-bad ones.

Second, we have not much to report for the day in terms of celebration or…well, anything.  We spent the entire day trying to nurse each other and the kids back to health.  We didn’t even make any progress on un-trimming the tree, in fact.  All plans were cancelled at 11pm last night, when a stomach bug punched Dar right in the gut.  Or something like that.

Third, I had been planning to write a family “Christmas” letter (or whatever we should call those year-end news-report-things that people send out to tell people like you how effortlessly happy and successful we all are in everything we’ve done in the past year), to be published here on our anniversary, with the idea that it would be more of a “state of the marriage address”.  After all, those news-report-things have more to do with the change in years than with Christmas anyway.  But I spent all day trying not to be sick, get sick, or make anyone else sick.  So you’ll have to wait one more day.  And since I’ve only actually finished one or two of these news-report-things in the last eleven years, I think we can all wait one more day for this one.