This week, my husband and I will celebrate our 36th anniversary. Some years we've gotten dressed-up and gone out to dinner. Other years we've simply marked the day with a kiss. That's what marriage is: richer, poorer, good times and bad. Each year with its surprises and challenges, its hard fought lessons, its moments of sweetness.
I grew up, fell in and out of love more times than my mother appreciated, and learned that the kind of passion Barry rhapsodized about wasn't easily found. I still believed in it, didn't give up on it, but stopped holding every relationship to the standard of "no way out." I always seemed to find plenty of ways out... as did they. Until I met him. The man I married.
Okay, I know you probably think that I'm going to say you should be buy him an AriZona Beverage Co. gift certificate or something like that, but, as you said, this is way too momentous an occasion to mess around with something so minor league as that. This calls for a real gift. One that shows him how much you care. The big guns.