Seven Years? Really?

Hubs and I passed our seventh anniversary last weekend. We totally celebrated, by which I mean we went camping with his family. That would be 11 other adults and 27 kids. In the woods. We slept in a tent with our children, skipped showers and peed in a dilapidated outhouse.  What? Isn't that how EVERYONE celebrates their seventh anniversary? Hubs also bought himself an enormous board game. I got flowers. From Wal-Mart. The day after our anniversary.

But don't worry. Hubs is totally making up for it this weekend. We're going to eat at Fudruckers and play mini golf. Hey, there are trade offs for KNOWING your husband will never cheat on you.

Luckily, he's married to me. I've totally remedied this situation. I'm taking us to the batting cages.
Now I just have to figure out a gift that will signify how amazing a wife I've been for the last seven years. I'm debating between legs for our bed and a can opener.

PS In case you think this post is how I really feel there's a disclaimer at the bottom.


DISCLAIMER: I totally love The Hubs. He's perfect for me. He lets me make fun of his still-awkward dating. What could be better than that? And if I *REALLY* cared, I'd plan the date, right? 
Exactly. So this was a work of satire.