It is Friday, and I am married.
To be a little more specific: Seven years ago on this day I surprised a delightful, beautiful, funny, tiny, mighty and obviously very gullible woman in a church in Grand Cayman with a proposal, a ring and a dapper island priest with a killer accent who was in on the romantic conspiracy.
A proposal that would have been very awkward to turn down, but was quite foolish to accept. I mean, have you met me, people? Have you met me?
She said yes, as history, and our mortgage, make clear. And has yet to take it back. And if that is not among the ultimate affirmations, then I simply do not know what.
I love you, Lisa Rabey. And, you fool, you obviously love me. You fool. You fool. You wonderful fool.
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