For our 15th wedding anniversary, I managed to locate the exact same Smoky Mountain cabin that we had honeymooned in (the property mgt. company had changed, but the place still looked exactly the same), and we took our family there for a long weekend. Certainly not the same -- ahem! -- atmosphere with four kids in tow, but it was nice and we even were blessed with an unexpected SNOWFALL our last nite there.
When we got to the foot of the mountain, I popped a cassette into the car stereo of the "Top Hits of 1985" (the year we got married), and when we opened the door to the cabin, there waiting for her in the middle of the dining room table was five dozen long-stemmed red roses, plus three white ones -- one for each of our then-three children. Accompanying them was a HANDWRITTEN NOTE from me (she was like "How did you DO that??!", but really not that hard with FedEx and a friendly property manager, and I also found that you can buy a LOT of roses in the middle of nowhere, cheap!). In the fridge was a bottle of champagne, chilling, and some sparkling soda for the kids, and we had a toast.
While she has seemed throughout our lives to genuinely enjoy such gestures, they were almost never reciprocated with anything that spoke to MY love language, and I finally stopped doing them.
Choc., who four days realized how hard it is to take FIVE FREAKIN' DOZEN LONG-STEMMED ROSES HOME in a loaded minivan!!!
