Because I'm the Mommy

Scott, Lisa and their two beautiful daughters. Click on
this image to see more of my work.

      I spent Wednesday afternoon ~~sweating my ass off~~ taking pictures. Frankly if I hadn't ~~been getting paid fat bank~~ dearly loved the people whose pictures I was taking I would have been spending my Wednesday afternoon the way I always spend it; ~~blog stalking my fave bloggers~~ in the pool. But dear friends of mine were celebrating ~~the passing of my youth~~ their fifteenth wedding anniversary. (And NO I am NOT old enough to have friends that have been married for 15 years!) And it's caused me to think about how the Hubby and I met.
      September 2, 2003 was the day I met the man I would marry thirteen months later. He was tall and had slightly crooked front teeth--he's very self conscience of this feature, don't tell him I told you about it, but I kinda think it's endearing. He also has an ever so slightly crooked smile, dimples and when he thinks something is funny his eyes sparkle.
       We met in a Border's bookstore for the "safe coffee". Meeting for coffee is safe because if it doesn't work out than you can always make a lame but believable excuse and head for the hills, with enough time to drown your single lady, sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry's or a ~~bottle~~ glass of wine. In this case, the safe coffee turned into dinner and conversation, that lasted until the restaurant closed and kicked us out.

       But our story started before our first meeting. It started almost two years earlier when my Momma told me that she's ~~not going to die without grandchildren~~ sick and tired my mopey, single ass, and that she would foot the first couple of month's fee if I joined a dating service. I think I dated every ~~loser, psychopath~~ eligible bachelor in Kansas City in those two years. Two years later, I was even more desperate than before I joined the service, only now I was broke too because those services aren't cheap! I finally decided to consult the pro; the on-site matchmaker. After reviewing my file and interviewing me ~~ad nauseum~~ at length she said she would get back with me. She called me two weeks later and said she found Him. She was ecstatic. She went on and on about how he was my "perfect foil" ~~whatever the hell that really means~~ and how we were perfect for each other. I of course remained nonchalant about the whole thing, I mean I'd been sold this song and dance before--when I signed up for this ridiculous ~~charade~~ service. But I took his ID number and headed to my computer to review his profile.
       I wasn't exactly blown away by what I read. I mean he sounded nice and everything but I was looking for fireworks, excitement, you know--sizzle. I called the matchmaker back and said thanks but no thanks and she promptly told me that she had a 95% success rating and that I needed to call this guy. Apparently she took her success rating very seriously because she called, emailed and made a general nuisance of herself over the next two weeks. I finally gave in after she called me back into her office for another conference (this one free of charge). I explained to her that I wasn't interested; he just wasn't "my type". And this matchmaker proceeded to tell me, in the nicest way possible, "So, you've been dating your type for how long now, and how's that working out for ya?"
      I called him that evening.
     And the rest is history, folks. I still have no idea whether the Hubby is my "perfect foil" (yes I'm making air quotes) or not--I still have no idea what that means, really...but he makes me laugh and keeps me from killing the children, and thereby keeps me out of jail so that's definitely something. Will we make it to celebrate our fifteenth anniversary? Probably. I mean there's NO way I ever want to relive those dating nightmares again and I kinda like how his eyes twinkle when he thinks something's funny.