7 Years Ago Today...

I woke up as Mrs. V W.

Andrew and I got hitched at the beautiful Algonquin Hotel in St. Andrews By The Sea.

Here we are...



Don't we look young? Don't we look like we're in love, ready to take on the world with Andrew's freaky lookin' facial scruff and my Faith H*ill wannabe hair?

I remember that day as if it were yesterday... It was hot, very, very hot. Andrew's dad performed the ceremony and I thought he was going to melt b/c he had pulled out his official robe for the day (not something he usually wears). I remember that I wasn't nervous at all and that Andrew's eyes were the exact colour of the ocean that day (awwwwww). I remember that the bastard waiter took my dessert plate before I was done with the best freaking chocolate mousse/cakey thing I had ever encountered (What grudge? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not holding anything.) I remember how Andrew made everyone teary with his speech. I remember how I felt a little tipsy when I thanked everyone for coming and for all the lurvly gafts, er, lovely gifts. I remember how amazing it was to wake up the morning after the wedding and realize that we were married. I remember how we thought that love could get us through it all.

And while love has kept us going through a lot of hard times, (if you only knew, you would understand why my hair is rapidly turning white and why Andrew's is rapidly disappearing)... we've come to realize that what keeps us going is that we are both strongly committed to this thing we started all those years ago. My mom always said, "There may be days when I don't like your father very much, but I always love him." and this has become our philosophy. We may not always like each other - in fact, there are days when I'm pretty sure that we shouldn't be in the same room together - but we always love each other and we're going to do our best to keep it going.

Andrew is my best friend in the entire world (sorry Becca). He is the person to whom I tell all my ridiculous, neurotic fears, my hopes, my dreams, my joys and my sorrows. He is the first person I call when some ingenious idea pops into my head. He handles all of my crazy moments with ease and a bear hug. He knows what makes me laugh and what makes me cry. He is an entire pep squad (without the pom poms) and a defenseman rolled into one. He's gentle and kind. He is the quiet guy at the back of the party who says the thing that gets everyone laughing. He's a talented musician and singer, even when he's only singing our song into my ear. He's a kid on the inside, where it counts. He can take it (I hope) when I carry on about his crazy indy musician hair. He's predictably forgetful in the most endearing and frustrating ways. He's lucky that he survived childhood with all the things he did. He's got the best luck; I swear it's like he's got a horseshoe up his arse. He's reknowned for procrastinating... but he always gets the job done. And I'm so lucky that he puts up with me and all of my coocoo behaviour.

Oh, and he's very supportive of the knitting. That should have been number one:
1. supportive of the knitting
2. loves me despite my humanity.

While the wedding itself seems like it was yesterday, it seems like we have just always been a part of each others' lives. Awwwwwww...