“God Bless the Broken Road…

that led me straight to you.” (Rascal Flatts)

On October 1st, 1996, I went to a friends house with one of my girlfriends to have a beer and complain about my ex.  HE welcomed us in and introduced us to two of his friends. One of them was Mr. B.

At approximately 2 a.m. on November 2nd, 1996, I asked Mr. B to officially be my boyfriend.

He said okay.

Ten minutes later I asked him if he’d marry me.

He said he’d been wanting to ask me that for the past two weeks.

Mid May 1997, I baked him a chocolate cake and cooked our favorite frozen pizza (we were poor as dirt doggonit), and asked him if we could move the date up a year or so.

He said okay.

And on June 7th, 1997 we made it official.  No one has seen these pictures in a long, long time.

There were no digital cameras.  There were no limos.  There was moonshine.  There were tents in the yard (for family). There was a bonfire.  My mom was my Maid of Honor.  On his grandmother’s front steps, so she could attend the ceremony, and quickly retreat to her bed (she was undergoing chemo).



(he looks a bit devilish there doesn’t he?)


Dear Mr. B,

I loved you then. I love you now. Faults and all.  I love our fights. I love our making up.  I love the hand holding.  I love the getting lost in your eyes (still!) standing in line at Walmart.  I love that you said yes.

Happy 14 years together baby… 


Mrs. B