Just what are you supposed to give each other on your eleventh wedding anniversary? I know it's not paper, and I'm positive it's not silver, gold or crystal. It's probably something random like picnic baskets or monogrammed linen handkerchiefs, neither of each which were gifts we exchanged. Instead, this is what eleven years looked like for us:
Eleven meant cards mutually exchanged, each with meanings almost identical.
Eleven found me up early and off to the market.
Eleven found Kevin and the kids up early and off to the dump, the P.O. (for me), the market, Lowe's and Dick's Sporting Goods.
Eleven meant the pool with the kids while Kevin replaced a doorknob for an old friend.
Eleven meant shrimp bought from the roadside stand which comes trucked in from Charleston, SC and tastes just as perfect as if I was sitting in a restaurant eating it on Shem Creek.
Eleven meant a family dinner with steaks, asparagus and our favorite rolls from Trader Joe's.
Eleven meant ice cream from Maggie Moo's and three kids with bright, neon-colored ice cream faces.
It meant a late night walk with Sunny, tucking the chickens in and then the kids and a collapse into bed for all of us.
Life is busy, it's full, it is ordinary and every day extraordinary. It is just how we like it.