A week ago we celebrated our two year wedding anniversary by hitting two bucket of balls, enjoying a little dinner at our favorite restaurant and slurping through a broken straw a ridiculously thick milkshake from Jack in the Box. I know, we are such romantics. I will have to say it was a step up from our last anniversary that was spent on an airplane to Costa Rica with the in-laws. Now that was hot.
During our anniversary I started to think about when I knew I was going to marry this boy from California. In 2004, we were set up on a date in North Carolina by our sister-in-laws. I wouldn't call it love at first sight for either of us. He seemed nice, but at the time I was living in Utah and didn't see a future with someone so far away. A year went by and one day, as I was walking out of the gym, I had a thought to call my Duke blind date. To this day I don't know where that thought came from. Maybe divine inspiration or my mother's relentless reminders of him were finally working. At any rate, we talked and decided to see each other again when he came out for a snow boarding trip in a few weeks.
Again, the dates were fun, but I couldn't figure out how I felt about him. There was no denying that we were incredibly compatible, but I just couldn't take the next leap. And then a few months later we were sitting outside at a restaurant in Salt Lake. I'll never forget the scene. He had just graduated from Law School and had stopped in Utah on his way back to California. He was wearing a light blue polo and talking about his trip across the country when all of the sudden I knew. I knew I was going to marry him. I didn't know when, and I sure as heck, didn't know how I was going to get there, but I knew.
A year and a half later we were married. I still can't believe that little blind date in Durham actually worked.