Eight years ago, on March 28, 2001, it was a cold and snowy day in Livingston County, Michigan. There had been a snowstorm the night before and the roads out in the boonies where I lived still weren't cleared.
Martin and I left the house in plenty of time to get to the Law Center, but we encountered a problem. A neighbor's cows had run melancholy mad through their fence and were standing in the middle of our road and would not move. They looked at us with blank disregard and not even several blasts of the horn would budge them until they decided, in their tiny bovine brains, to get along, little doggie.
We eventually made it to the law center to get married. Weddings are performed first thing, so we went into the courtroom and took a seat amongst all the people waiting arraignments, dressed in their orange jail jumpsuits, accessorized with handcuffs.
After the brief ceremony, performed by Judge DelVero, who happened to be my country mile neighbor for years, we were legally wed. All of the jail guests in their orange jumpsuits gave us a hearty round of applause.
Three months later, we had our formal ceremony at the historic wedding chapel in downtown Howell and a dinner dance at the Lakelands Country Club. Many of our guests have told us that it was one of the nicest, most fun weddings they have ever been to.
So eight years later, this Saturday, we celebrate the occasion of our first wedding. ( Of course, I milk it and require two celebrations.) Happy anniversary, MG. Til death do us part, baby.
Don't think he doesn't sleep with one eye open.