As Rob and I sit on the beach, I begin pointing out beautiful women. "She's gorgeous," I say, nodding my head toward a woman walking past us.

As Rob follows my gaze, I notice another woman walking through the water in a dark bikini. "There's a woman who definitely belongs in a bikini," I say. "Look at her."

"I can't believe I'm checking out women on the beach with my wife," Rob says.

"I love checking out women," I say, shrugging. Of course, he knows this. Usually I'm pointing out a woman's shoes or cute top, but sometimes I'll remark on a particularly nice butt or, like today, the whole package. The female figure is a beautiful thing to behold, and being a heterosexual woman doesn't make me unaware of that. In a similar way I appreciate the sleek strut of a cat, moving its perfect proportions with a touch of prissiness.

We're still staring at the woman in the dark bikini.

"That's an hourglass figure," Rob says, in a way that suggests he's never before seen a more definitive example. Neither have I.

"I don't understand how she can have such a small waist," I say, "and yet still be so voluptuous at top and bottom."

"She's not really voluptuous," Rob disagrees.

"No, you're right. But her ass isn't flat, and she's got good boobs." I'm making an unspoken comparison to myself - my curves are considerably straighter than hers.

We pause in our commentary for a moment, and then Rob adds, "Her butt is tan."

I look at him quizzically, this comment seeming a bit random. "Why do you say that? I mean, it is. But why are you pointing it out?"

"Compared to you, I mean. She's tan all over. And you...you're whiter in some places."

"Well, she's probably been here all week." There is a touch of defensiveness in my voice. "If I'd been here all week, I'd be tan all over, too."

"Oh, I know. I was just making a comparison."

I raise an eyebrow at this. "I didn't realize we were making comparisons."

He is smart enough not to respond.

"In that case," I continue, "she has long hair. There's a comparison. Also? She has a big-muscled man."

And so ends our babe watching. We stick to admiring the view of the ocean for the rest of the day.

R:  So yesterday I was reading People --
K:  Whoa. Slim pickins at the doctor's office, huh?
R:  Yeah, they had Good Housekeeping, something ridiculous like Diabetes Monthly, and one other one just as bad...
K:  Parenting?
R:  No.
K:  Highlights for Children?
R:  No. It was.... Oh yeah, it was Sports Illustrated.
K.  Wait, you're telling me you chose People over Sports Illustrated?
R:  Yes.
K:  Okay.

Rob and I have been gingerly moving through life the past couple days after boxing a few rounds on Sunday. He cannot so much as bend down to get a pot from the cabinet without wincing in pain. My deltoids are so sore I cannot reach around to pull my seatbelt or lift my shirt over my head. We are pathetic, people. Especially considering it was Wii boxing.

But, I completely kicked his ass. Worth it.

While on the trip, we took a tour of Antelope Canyon, a stunning slot canyon in Arizona. Rob stumbled upon online photos of this place by accident a couple months ago, and I'm so glad he did because visiting this canyon was a highlight for all of us.

And that's despite the fact that the guide was a complete loon. She would tell rambling personal stories of absolutely no relevance and then hurry us all around the corner because "I've been here since 6 this morning and I'm tired and want to go home." She actually didn't rush the tour - in fact, it went longer than it was supposed to - but she set an odd pace of hurrying up just to launch into a tangent just to hurry up again.

She also insisted on telling everyone which photos to take. A slot canyon is a very difficult place to photograph, and I think she was trying to be helpful (although she knew diddly-shit about photography and seemed mostly just to enjoy bossing people around). At stop after stop along the way, she would order us to "Stand here and take that photo." And then we would wait until everyone stood there and took that photo. We couldn't not stand there and take that photo - she INSISTED that everyone with a camera stand there and take that photo.

I will admit that I have added this phrase - Stand here and take that photo - to my personal repertoire. Rob tends to carry the camera (and take photos) more than I do on trips. When I see a shot I think would be nice, sometimes I ask for the camera but more often I'm too lazy and just point in the general direction of the shot and say some variation of, "Hey Rob, get that one." But the problem is that Rob doesn't always understand what I want him to take, and by the time I explain what I'm looking at ("I like the way the light hits that rooftop over there") I could have just taken the damn photo myself. Which is why I'm liking this new phrase: Stand HERE and [pointing] take that photo. So clear! No confusion! Plus it makes us chuckle.

So as the tour guide led us through the narrow, winding canyon, alternately pointing out strange rock formations (an eagle, Bill Clinton's nose) and telling us what she bought her husband for Father's Day, Rob stuck to the back of the group so he could shoot his own photos and avoid having people in them.

This did not go over well with the tour guide. She needed us all to be together. Now, I get this. You can't have people wandering around on their own. But Rob was never out of sight; he was just trailing ten feet behind. "Sir!" she would repeatedly shout from the front of the group. "Sir! Stay with the group. I need you up here!" Rob would amble close enough for her to shut up and then immediately lag behind again, getting shots. Honestly, I think what annoyed the guide more than anything was that Rob wasn't standing here taking that photo. (These photos are the result of his rebellion, which was clearly worth it.)

I bounced between Rob and the rest of my family, hanging back with him for awhile and then catching up to walk with them. The guide soon figured out our relationships and offered to take a family photo. Rob was dragging behind, so she took one of me with my parents and brother and then as Rob caught up she said, "In-Law! Stand over there with the rest of the family."

My brother and I nearly lost it, nudging each other while biting our lips to keep from laughing. Soon we couldn't hide our snickering, though, as the guide continued to call Rob "In-Law" for the rest of the tour. "In-Law! Stay with the group!" "Come a little closer, In-Law." "In-Law! Stand here and take that photo."

And I confess that after the tour ended my brother and I took it upon ourselves to continue referring to my poor dear husband as "In-Law." For the duration of the trip. Because we are assholes. And also because it's friggin' funny, I'm just saying.

When we disembarked the cruise ship, back in Venice, Rob & I and Doreen & Apollo* parted ways. They were flying out that day, and we were spending one more day in Venice. They were planning to while away an hour or so before heading to the airport, and we wanted to go further into the city, so we said goodbye and went on our way.

Rob and I dropped our stuff at the hotel and started heading in the direction of a cathedral we wanted to see. We walked a bit, and then turned a corner - and there were Doreen and Apollo. Sitting at a table in the corner of a little plaza, looking very Italian - he smoking a cigarette and she sipping a latte. We were delighted by this happenstance reunion. As Doreen said, you'd think after spending over a week together, two couples would be tired of being together, but we were all happy to see each other again less than an hour after parting.

Or maybe they were just being nice. It takes traveling with other people, and viewing yourself through their eyes, to realize just how potentially annoying you might be. I am - and I'm sure this will come as a surprise - a bit anal. You know, slightly. For this reason, when Rob and I are traveling I am the designated Important Paper Keeper. I am responsible for keeping up with passports, tickets, etc. because not having control of those things literally would drive me insane. And I also must confirm that our travel companions have their shit in gear. ("You have your tickets, right? What about your room key? Do you want to bring a water bottle? What about sunscreen? We should probably hurry or we're going to miss the shuttle.") It sounds completely high-strung, but it calms me to confirm these things. You know, constantly. Rob's a responsible person, but the reason I'm the Important Paper Keeper is that he doesn't check to make sure he still has these things every 5 minutes like I do, and I cannot relax knowing that our passports might have fallen out of the secret passport pocket (practically impossible, but still) and he wouldn't notice for, like, hours. He argues that the very act of checking to make sure everything is still there makes it more likely that something will fall out, to which I respond, "Except not, because I keep checking it!" Which might not sound like a logical response, but I am not here to be logical. I am here to keep track of shit and I have a system and IT WORKS.

Are you starting to see what it would be like to travel with us? Because we bicker like that, Rob smart-assedly pointing out the flaws in my plans and me bossing him around like it's my job. Except it's not really bickering so much as it's dysfunctional flirting. There is nothing more romantic than a well-timed "Yeah, fuck you." But to other people I suspect we appear just like one of those cranky couples, married for 60+ years, who grumble at each other simultaneously and interrupt each other's stories with, "No, no, you're telling it all wrong." Of course, maybe that's all just foreplay, too.

Fortunately Doreen and Apollo are laidback and good-natured and hardly even bat an eye when I am brutally smacking Rob's arm while he's driving because there's a spider on it. Somehow they manage to just exchange a look and laugh (with only a slight tinge of fear) as I scream at Rob about how SHIT THERE'S A SPIDER ON YOUR SLEEVE and DO NOT FLICK IT ON ME and JUST LET ME KILL IT all while Rob is yelling back that he's DRIVING HERE, hello!

And that's us on our best behavior. Because while Doreen has known us for years and manages to love us despite ourselves, I was afraid on this trip we would be more than Apollo wanted to sign up for, you know? Deranged friends can be a dealbreaker. So we tried our best to behave ourselves.

Good thing, too, because for most of the trip Apollo was carrying around a diamond ring. Surely trying to decide if he could tolerate knowing Rob & I for the rest of his life. Or, you know, maybe waiting for the right time to propose. But probably the first one.

He did propose, and she said yes, and we are thrilled for them! She has been family to us for nearly all our lives, and he has felt like family to us since the first time we met him. I am looking so forward to their wedding day, and not just because I pledged to say "titbits" in my toast.

*I have been trying to find the right blog nickname for Doreen's man and have taken suggestions and considered several options including Mr. F, Special K, and Damn Shitbird. But I think this one fits the best, for various reasons: our trip to the temple, his love for literature, the fact that he's a twin and, perhaps most of all, that he has great Greek god hair.

76. The way you sign your name on cards we are sending, giving it your best flourish and then proudly handing it over to me, only for me to see that you basically just printed your name. "That's not a signature," I always say, and you always protest that it is. Holy heavens, for as long as I live this will amuse me. So totally cute.

77. Being the fearless leader on our many outdoor adventures with my brother.

78. Your preference - nay, passion - for gummy bears.

79. That you listen to Ani DiFranco.

80. The superman move you do with the haircut cape.

81. That when you invited some co-workers over for a chili night, you worked around my crazy schedule because you said it wouldn't be the same if I wasn't there.

82. That you had the patience and perseverance to defeat that one super-stubborn section of wallpaper by the stove. I had long given up on that shit.

83. The hilarious hatred you have for our "Fisher Price" mailbox.

84. Your take on my family, which is always amusing and, admittedly, true.

85. How excited you get about Scrubs coming on, and the gusto with which you sing along to the theme song.

86. That when I meet up with one of my faraway friends, you come along because you want to see her, too.

87. That Tina Fey is your celebrity crush. I think it says something good about you that instead of the stereotypical starlet sexpot, your favorite famous female is smart and brunette and wears glasses.

88. That you bought a gondolier tshirt in Venice and, moreover, that you don't really get the humor in that.

89. That whenever we see a couple taking pictures of each other at some scenic spot, you offer to take one of them together.

90. The conversations we have and how there are always things you want to show me or tell me about. I love being your best friend.

Six years ago today we danced at our wedding to "I've Got the World on a String." I hadn't listened to the song in awhile, so recently I popped into my car cassette player the Sappy and Danceable Jazz tape you made me in high school. (Which, can I just say? That you made me a mixed tape of jazz and not shitty pop songs is another thing I love about you.) As I listened to the lyrics, I thought, Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. What a world, what a life - I'm in love.

To explore the world and share this life with you is a delight, my love.

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.