#8

Yesterday was our 8th anniversary. It rained, just like it did the morning of our wedding. Lucky us. Cause you know that's what they say, rain on your wedding day brings you good luck. Not that we needed luck. I think God had a little something to do with bringing us together after all that almost two year internet romance when we were 2,000+ miles apart.

Funny side story: my grandma Kline was a little confused about the whole "Wendy meets Phil online" thing. She used to tell people that I met my boyfriend on the TV. That still cracks me up!

So where have those 8 years gone? Phil asks me that a lot. Where has the time gone? I usually tell him to check the scrapbooks. So I dug them out today and took a peek at our history. We've had. . .

• four addresses - three rentals, one of our own
• four vehicles - I still miss you, little green Saturn
• four jobs (and still looking) for me, one for him
• two churches
• two leap years
• countless trips to the beach
• one whale-watching excursion
• two Mariners games, one Seahawks game, three Timbers games
• one surgery/near-death experience (certainly not a favorite memory of mine)
• one trip to urgent care for stitches
• 608 blog posts
• one dog
• numerous scrapbooks, Phil & Wendy Volume I, II, III, and currently working on IV. But should be at about VI or VII.

I'm sure the list could go on and on.
Phil505 brought me home a big bouquet of roses. A dozen red. A dozen and a half white with pink tips (my fav.) I got him a bottle of port (his fav.) I looked for a vintage 2004 bottle (the year of our holy matrimony), but there were none to be found. You can't really see it in the picture, but I used my cricut to cut out a bunch of 8's and I scattered them around on the table. I made the tag on the port too. So crafty, I know.

We went out for dinner to Billygans. (our fav.) Yummy steak place. Peanut shells on the floor. Homemade rolls with honey butter. Before we left I set the camera up on the opening between the dining room and living room and snagged a picture of us with the self-timer. Sorry about cutting off the top of your head, Babe. I guess I didn't have quite enough Bibles stacked under the Canon.

So for those who may have doubted whether or not internet romances work, here's eight years of proof that they do. I love you, Babe, you hardworking, handsome stud-muffin of mine.