Another Year

Saturday, I'll be forty-seven years old. Kicking fifty in the behind. Sometimes it bothers me. Most of the time it doesn't.This year, hubby took me to New Orleans. I write this blog fresh from a great night in the Big Easy. I got to eat oysters at the Acme oyster house, something I always wanted to do. A complete stranger recited a love poem to me on the street (that was weird) another stranger asked if he could be my second husband (more weird) and I took pictures with all kinds of  characters (that was fun!) 

But the highlight of my first day in New Orleans was when my husband gave me a gift bag with a big grin on his face. Inside was a framed certificate that a star had been named after me. Along with it was a star chart showing its location. It was the perfect gift. I love gifts like that. 

When he does things like that it restores my faith in romance. As writers we're sometimes encouraged to write what we know. What do I know? I know what it feels like to be loved. And I'm glad I get to experience it for another year.