Rob and I got engaged at the top of a mountain. Several years later, an inn was built at the foot of that mountain, and that's where we went this past weekend to celebrate our 6-year wedding anniversary (a week early).

Saturday evening we took a picnic to a nearby winery that had live music. There were couples and families all around us, and we spent much of the evening people-watching, trying to figure out which kids, all of whom were running around like crazy, belonged to which adults. This proved nearly impossible to determine, so then we tried to match dogs to owners. Which was even more impossible, given the friendly nature of dogs and the inclination people have to show affection to any dog that wanders over. We finally concluded that everyone there but us belonged to a commune.

It was a delightful way to while away the evening, sitting side-by-side on our blanket, sipping wine. I feel very fortunate to have married someone with whom I can have so much fun doing nothing.

We also took several walks and hikes, including the hike up to the overlook where we got engaged 7 years ago.

March 2001

May 2008

It's a tough hike; the sign at the beginning declares the trail "for the stout-hearted." We whined a bit about how we're not as young as we used to be, but we made it. Seems this many years later, our hearts are still stout. And still in beat with one another.

A few evenings ago we went to a major league baseball game. At one point I was walking up the bleacher stairs by myself and got whistled at. By the mascot. I was walking up, he/she/it was walking down, and as we passed there was a distinct, if muffled, whistle.

Only moments later, the mascot came back to our section of the stands to give away free personal pan pizzas. As you know, I have a passion for the PPP. But unlike most people, I was not waving wildly for a pizza because I do not like to receive the attentions of mascots or others of the puppet persuasion. Frankly, they freak me out a little. Rob was sitting next to me, arms in the air in an attempt to score some pizza, and he nudged me and said, "Put up your hands and cheer so we can get a pizza! He whistled at you, so you'll totally get one. C'mon!"

Can I just observe here how eagerly my husband was willing to pimp out whatever sex appeal I may possess for the sake of free food? God knows what he would have suggested if they'd been handing out beers. Which is not to say I wouldn't have considered flashing my boobs if the pizza purveyor had been an actual person. I mean, it's PPP, people! But I absolutely refused to participate, for fear of what might happen if the mascot and I made eye contact. (Although how the hell can you even tell where a mascot is looking? They're freaky, I tell you.)

So we didn't get a free pizza but then we were craving one (which is the whole point of that giveaway) and so we had to go buy one. For $8. It was damn good, but nothing that small is worth $8. However, it was totally worth $8 not to appear on the jumbotron being groped by a giant birdlike creature made of shag carpet.

So Simon's latest thing is jumping down the laundry chute. He paws open the door and then dives down into the laundry piled in the basket at the bottom. One of these times the laundry basket is going to be empty and the little fucker is going to break his leg.

Once he jumps down, he is stuck in the basement until one of us comes home and discovers he's missing. When we open the basement door, he is sitting there on the top step, patiently waiting. He looks up at us like "Hi!" and then rushes past and heads directly for the damn laundry chute again, flinging his furry body headfirst down the hole before either of us can stop him. He's like a toddler on a slide, running up the ladder and sliding down, running up and sliding down, over and over again. Except he's not a toddler. He's a cat, jumping down the laundry chute. Which is weird. And annoying.

This weekend we installed a latch on the door. So far it seems to be working, but I'm not convinced it will hold for long. One of Maylee's idiosyncrasies is that the door to the bathroom closet (where the laundry chute is) MUST BE OPEN. She will walk into the room, open the closet door, and then walk out. You can imagine how a neurotic person like me feels about doors standing open - they drive me crazy. So I shut the door. And then Maylee opens it. So I shut it. And Maylee opens it. So I shut it. And now Simon opens it, too. So I shut it. For now, the door is staying closed with the latch. But it's making Maylee insane. She keeps trying to pry it open, and sooner or later her persistence is going to pay off. And then I'll be back to closing the damn door every 5 minutes. And Simon will be back to plummeting down the laundry chute.

I swear the universe gave me these particular cats as punishment for not wanting kids.