Eight

This past Monday Muff and I celebrated 8 years of marriage. A milestone we respect and cherish. We've gone through a lot together. Hills and valleys. Streams and mountains. Life has its way of throwing curve balls when you least expect them. We've managed to handle them all - some better than others. But overall, our love for each other has grown. We know what we're about. We have an idea of what works and what doesn't and we appreciate each other. I'm not sure what I would be without her, but I'm glad she puts up with me.

Over the weekend we drove north up the coastline to the Marshal Store in the town of Marshall. That's our spot for oysters. They do them raw, baked, bbq'd and Rockefeller styled. They also serve up a mean clam chowder if need a fixin. We hiked a bit and ended up staying overnight at a quaint lodge in Olema (Population 50. 52 if you count us). It was a trip and a weekend well spent.

On Monday, Muff bought me my first Daddy books to read to little pumpkin. It warmed me up inside. Actually, it melted me. I get a bit teary just thinking about it. The thought of me being a father in some way feels like an abstract idea. I know I'm one. I sort of understand what they do, but the realization doesn't come right away. The ah-ha moment isn't always there. That is, until you see the first ultrasound, or hear the heartbeat for the first time. Or in my case, you receive your first Daddy books to read to your child, from the woman carrying your child. Those moments are special. And I had one on our 8th anniversary. Thanks Muff.