48 years but who's counting?

It was our 48th wedding anniversary today.  We lay in bed most of the morning watching "Foyle's War" on Netflix.  We're old enough to have forgotten whole episodes,  so we can revisit it once a year.  We were recovering from the Sabbath Day, which wasn't any kind of day of rest:  we taught Primary where Caleb told me about his miracle.  I'll write about it later this week.

And we cooked Father's Day dinner for the Charles Plummer family who were highly stressed when they arrived but calmed down a bit as the afternoon wore on.   Charles mimicked Nicholas Cage from the bakery scene in Moonstruck:  "I ain't no monument to justice."

  Murgatroyd (10) sang the song she won the talent contest with at her school:  Ingrid Michaelson's Brakeable.  Last week, she sent me the first seven chapters of her novel.  Watch out world, Murgatroyd is coming.

We discussed who were the introverts and the extroverts in our family.

Anne and Spencer arrived after they had picked up the used furniture they bought from Hotel Monaco including an armoire.

We went down to the social room to watch the end of an NBA game, Miami verses Oklahoma on the large screen.  Already, Spencer's influence is felt in the family.  Not one of us would have thought to do that on our own.  I asked, "Is it still March madness?"  His lip curled.

Today, Anne surprised us with bagels and flavored cream cheeses.  "Happy Anniversary!" She burst through our bedroom door. The three of us ate on our bed and retold old stories and some new ones.
How will we live without her?

I was surprised how heavily professional photography weighed in on the the marriage day question.

Anne is getting married in the afternoon and having a reception in Memorial Grove.  No wedding breakfast.  She thinks it makes the day too exhausting.  I couldn't agree more.

Blah blah blah blah, me and mine, me and mine, honk honk honk.