This morning is my 56 wedding anniversary. I greet it warmly. Really enthusiastically. For many years I have come to my anniversary a little miffed at my husband. It happens every year like clockwork. This year Mr. Radish and I are arguing if he should go to a doc in a box because he can not get into the doctor's until Thursday. He has a pain in his leg, he winces when he walks. I am thinking his leg is going to collapse. Now if he wants to be in pain until Thursday, that is entirely up to him, but I do not want a broken hip. He is not seeing how inconvenient for the family if he would break a hip. He is calling me "Mother". Last night he tells me that it does not hurt at all, if he applies a lot of pressure with his hand.
Today I awake and the Florida sun is shining. It is my 56th anniversary and I am happy. Mr. Radish is still asleep. Do I want blackberry/buttermilk or sour cream ice cream for dinner? Neither of us have presents, and that is just fine. I might put on all of my makeup for the entire day. It is 56 years, and I still love the stupid guy, and I know he loves me. How good can it get? This happens every year on my anniversay.