The sixth anniversary is *sugar* not torrential rain, you guys.

As I mentioned, the Peanut's 2nd birthday was Tuesday. But what I didn't mention, because the whole wide world and all of its related media did, was that the DC area was rocked by a 5.9 earthquake that very day. I won't bore you with my earthquake survival story (it ended with a happy hour and a commute home that was only slightly inconvenient) but I do want to point out that our sixth wedding anniversary also occurs this week, today in fact, cleverly corresponding with the track of Hurricane Irene.

I don't know what we've done to encourage the wrath of a Greater Power, but evidently s/he enjoys smiting us with natural disaster on or around major dates of celebration. Hurricane Katrina struck within 12 hours of our wedding day. My mom's chihuahua lost an eye to a well-aimed mule kick (that sounds like a euphemism, but I assure you it's not) the day after Colin was born. Maybe it's just the month of August, which bears so many of our celebrations, that is cursed. Maybe it's us. Do I owe everyone on the East Coast an apology?



May you be safe and avoid aggressive mules, or at least their hind ends, today and through the month of August.

And P.S.: the photo on the wall is thisaone, taken six years ago today.



Happy anniversary, honey. And since you're out of town at a bachelor party - you may have champagne to celebrate but you may not have the Champagne Room. Also, as soon as you left, our ice machine broke. So did the machine that takes out all the trash on trash day.