Lucky Thirteen

This year has not been the best for us. I think I've mentioned that, between family and friends, we have experienced six deaths (one was canine, Cora's buddy Mia - she will be greatly missed) and four serious illnesses in the past six months. When we are asked how we are these days, we say,"We are fine, but..."  Add to this that My Beloved lost his biggest line (I think I kvetched about that here, too) so we are seriously short of money, and you'd think we were having the worst year ever.


But, on a sunny afternoon celebrating our thirteenth wedding anniversary with lunch at the Blackhawk Grille, with a split of champagne each and a table right next to the little creek and waterfall that runs through the complex, we are still feeling lucky. 


Yes, we chose lunch over dinner because it's a little cheaper but, on a day when fog blankets our coast side home, driving east to the warmth of Danville is not exactly penance.  Thank heavens for microclimates. My Beloved dons shorts for trips like this (he has gorgeous gladiator legs) and I put on a pretty summer dress, one that I usually only wear in Hawaii where it's reliably warm, and we had a splendid, balmy, sunny celebration similar to the day we were married all those years ago.


This is also a sentimental journey for us - we had our first "date" (in the modern era) at the Behring Museum at Blackhawk where I took My Beloved to drool over the jewel-like cars posed on the shiny black marble floors. I knew he'd love that. That day, we also took in the street art fair in San Rafael, because he insisted on doing something he thought I would enjoy as much as he liked dreaming about the cars. 


At our anniversary lunch, we sat in the sunshine, admiring the ducks and remarking about how lazy the koi are, and agreeing that our life together has been like that ever since - each trying to outdo the other in providing fun. This may not be our best year, but thirteen is still a lucky number for us.