Worst Anniversary Ever

In the Spongebob movie that my kids were watching a few months ago, Spongebob and friend Patrick sing, "It's the best day, e-e-ever." I had that song running on a loop thru my head all day, only with the word 'best' replaced by 'worst' and 'day' replaced by 'anniversary.'

The day wasn't as bad as I'm sure some people's worst anniversary stories might attest. No one dies, no one gets arrested, there isn't a big blowout fight. I'm not comparing my lousy anniversary with some truly lousy days among the general public. But I've had 14 other anniversaries, and all of them were either more enjoyable or were truly nondescript. I remember having a lovely time on our first anniversary back in 1994. We got each other cute gifts and looked forward to finally sampling that last bite of wedding cake that we'd set aside 365 days earlier. Word to the unwise: Enjoy the cake while it's still fresh, because cake left in a freezer for one year tastes like soggy cardboard.

I don't recall the details of the next 13 anniversaries; they all blend together, and I can only try to remember them individually if I calculate the year and then try to conjure up a memory of what we were doing in our lives at that time. I just remember feeling a sense of relief and happiness last year when our marriage turned 14 because that meant that we'd stayed together longer than my parents, and that had always been a goal of mine.

Things didn't bode well when Shirra realized just a few days ago that our anniversary was approaching. Apparently it came to her when she was remembering that March 3 was the birthday of our first cat. I had completely forgotten that our big day was coming up, and I was even more chagrinned when I remembered that a few years ago, she'd hoped to celebrate #15 with a cruise on the Queen Mary 2. Well, that boat sailed on by.

According to some online research I just did, the 15th anniversary is traditionally marked with gifts of crystal (a huge improvement over the tin of year 10). I opted instead for a picnic theme. It wasn't like I'd given myself a lot of time to plan ahead, so I drove down to Kat the Cheese's shop in the Water Street Market and bought some cheeses, bread, crackers, jam, and a cool little picnic pack that looks like a large Fil-o-Fax I once had but actually holds some napkins, a cheese board, and two sets of cutlery. My plan was to surprise Shirra this morning with a late breakfast on our lawn after we'd taken the kids to school. But at about 9pm, it finally dawned on me that there was no way to pull this off. For one thing, the weather hadn't warmed up as much as I'd hoped, but more importantly, I was slated to be the parent-helper at Maeve's preschool, and Shirra had her usual early-morning knitting group as she does every Friday. Since it was too late to make any changes, we had our picnic after the kids went to sleep, and our anniversary-eve party, quiet and private, was lovely.

Today, however, got off to a lousy start. I usually get to spend nearly an hour hanging out with Fiona in the morning before school starts, but today she watched some Doctor Who as I ruined my first-ever egg poaching attempt before making her a subpar sunny-side-up egg instead. I spent just a few minutes with Emmett before taking Maeve to her preschool, and then I spent the next 150 minutes waiting for that half-day of madness to end. Normally I love going in as the parent-helper, but today I wasn't at my best, and while it ended nicely enough, I still had a bad taste in my mouth.

I took Maeve to Shirra's store in hopes of chatting with Shirra for awhile and just giving her a few snuggly hugs, but this was spoiled when Shirra spotted an injured dog that was wandering past her shop. Being a dog-lover, she had to tend to it, necessitating a variety of phone calls (owner, vet, animal rescue, and so on). I left, hoping that the dog's owner would soon show up (she did) and that the dog would be ok (it was) and frustrated that this had to happen on March 7.

My drive to Manhattan was uneventful and my tutoring sessions were great, but the drive back was made difficult and unpleasant by the incessant rain. When I finally got home, Shirra gave me a present of a pair of slippers that, despite being my size, didn't feel right (too small? too narrow?). It was a fitting end to the day, I suppose. Or should that be 'unfitting'? Either way, I'm glad that this anniversary is finally over so that we can start saving for that QM2 trip in a few years.