A Bare Bottomed Pagan Statue and Lost Wallet: This is What A 12th Anniversary Looks Like

We climbed up to the top of Vulcan for our annual anniversary photos today. The sky was blue and the air was perfect, cooler than the day we got married underneath the bare bottom pagan statue 12 years ago when it was so hot the groomsmen nearly passed out. 

Also, the day that we got married my wedding planner forgot to tell me to come out, so in the video, as the quartet played, you can see the bridesmaids whispering to another "Ohmygoddidshegetcoldfeetandrun?"

I didn't.

On the way there I sang "Halo" with so much of my all, I nearly passed out. I didn't.

We do this every year on the same spot where we read Wallace Stevens and committed to a life with pugs. Today we walked up to do this while our ailing pugs were taking turns peeing on every inch of our floors, and I was researching pug neurological conditions. For better or worse. 

Last year we didn't take the photos because my mom was in the hospital recovering from surgery. I was pretty stressed and overwhelmed, and starting a new job. Let's just say the years between 11 and 12 were not the most stellar. 

But here we are, with Nate smiling with his new hipster haircut (he refused to smile at year 10.) My father, as he always does, took the photos and then took Nate to a movie so Shane and I could go to dinner.

A trip to the bookstore, sushi, and ice cream. And then, preparing to drive home, realizing that my wallet was no where to be found. Was it in the car? No. The restaurant? Nope? The bookstore? Didn't appear so. Happy anniversary, your wife is a mess!

But we stayed calm and drove to all of those places. And, in the bookstore I ran to the second floor, where I remembered hearing a noise and something fall into the trash while I held too many things.

"Um, can I look in your garbage?" I asked the barista. "Er, sure."

And, nestled amidst coffee cups and half eaten bagels, one wallet, intact. 

"I found my wallet!" I said to Shane via cell phone as he circled the lot. "OK, let's go home now." No panicking, no words. Just home to pick up our boy and watch him play basketball. That's 12 years. 

This is day 14 of 90 Stories in 90 Days.