Today is a magical day.
Four years ago today, someone named Folsom and someone named Walsh, inspired by the sweet news that GW Bush had changed domestic partnership taxation on public employees, hastily joined themselves together in sweet monkey matrimony to become the WaFols tribe forever more. (Wafols. Geddit?)
Here is a recreation of the beautiful moment when we decided to entwine our lives and taxable incomes together forever more:
Him: I just got this notice that I have to pay taxes on all the domestic partnership benefits my work gave you that were untaxed all year! CRAP!
Him: OR...we could get married and the benefits would become nontaxable spousal benefits.
Me: So it's December. Couldn't they have told you earlier in the tax year? Effers. Whatever. I guess let's do it. (to Milo) Sorry little buddy. I guess we can't legitimately call you our little bastard any more...
See? We've always had that secret, romantic je ne sais quoi.
Last night, Jamie and I went out a day early (because when you get married on New Years Eve, every day is a holiday. Also, babysitters on NYE? Ha!) and celebrated with the alcohol and the raw fish and the reminiscence, reflecting upon all the words we now use only ironically. Like "romantic" and "privacy".
And we also did some good couple bonding and threatening.
Like...you can never die/divorce me/something-else-unforeseeable because we are In. This. Together. Like it or not, damnit, baby!
Because that? Is hot sweet magical monkey love. Baby.
Happy New Year/Waffle Monkey Love Day to you all!
DISLCAIMER: Our sitters are awesome and would probably totally have sat for us tonight. Just so's you knows.
PS: Thank you tremendously for all the love about my sister. Here's hoping for a healing 2009!
PPS: So....sometimes I'm a bit harsher than is strictly necessary. And even though the above is all more-or-less true, it doesn't capture the fact that we are a pretty nauseatingly happy-together couple who are delighted to find ourselves where we are. And even if GW hadn't been evil, babies not in our picture, and privacy something we could say without snorting, we might be in precisely exactly the same place. There, Jamie. I lub you and I may not be particularly publically mushy, but it's ALL MUSH ALL THE TIME in our reality. (OK, not always, but sometimes).