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That’s right, my long-suffering spouse has been suffering for precisely two years, today, courtesy of the Province of Quebec (and, well, me). In celebration, we’ve probably (I’m writing this ahead of time and setting it to post later on) tried to replicate the occasion by crawling out of bed way earlier than my nocturnal writing habits consider humane, putting on stupidly fancy clothes, pumping me sufficiently full of caffeine that I can pass for legally competent, and then wandering around aimlessly. (OK, the day itself also included lunch courtesy of the extremely generous man who agreed to be our second witness, even though he’d never met us before we showed up to crash at his house the night before.) I assume that he wants me to remember this, because he took the trouble to remind me of the date a couple weeks ago. I’m not really big on remembering dates unless they have some underlying logic to them, and “The first day the notary could fit us in” just doesn’t cut it for me. I’m also not big on public displays of sentiment, in case you’ve managed to read this far and not figure that bit out. However, it would be a mistake to take the flippancy of my words as a direct indication of the depth of my feeling. I can’t imagine having gone through these past two years without you by my side, partner. I’d still do it all over again tomorrow. Except maybe not before noon.

Here’s to many more years like the last two!

Oh, the contest from last week? Both Elizabeth and BlueRoses told us about lovely blogs that we already knew about, and so, after much discussion, we decided it was only fair that both of them win the handknit shawls I’ve already made (or am in the process of making) for them.

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