Monday was our seventh anniversary. And by "our" I mean Nick and me, not you and me. Since it fell on a weekday, we kept it low key and just went to Onion Creek with Mom, who is here for the week. [Pertinent digression: Super yummy hamburger with goat cheese and my new favorite potato salald when I don't even like potato salad.] I was digging around in the baby bag for something or other and found... a little blue box. Now before you get too excited for me, remember that (in his own words) my husband is "not that guy." Meaning, he isn't the kind to pore over the counters at Tiffany's and drop a fat load of cash for a teeny weeny piece of jewelry. Not that I wouldn't love it, but I just know not to expect it.
He is, however, the kind of guy who will jewelry shop with his feet up, snack in hand, cruising the internet. And that, my friends, is exactly why I am accumulating a very respectable stack of little blue boxes as the years go by. Thank you, Blue Nile, for catering to the likes of my non-jewelry-store-frequenting husband. And thank you, Nick, for having such good taste.
Happy (belated) anniversary, husband of mine!
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