This past Monday was Travis and my 30th wedding anniversary. This shocked me, since, in my mind, I am still 40 years old. Those numbers don’t add up. At least not legally. I try to grasp how this happened. We are not really that alike. Travis is frustratingly quiet, while I chat up strangers in nearly any venue. Travis is private; I have a blog as an outlet for my oversharing. He is romantic; I struggle with that. Somehow, I always end up laughing during those romantic moments. And I’m not a girl with a cute giggle. I belly laugh with occasional snorts. I consider it a win if nothing shoots out of my nose! I think romance is catching Travis vacuuming the house. Now that’s love!!

We went to St. Joseph, Michigan to ring in the anniversary. It was a low key, fun weekend. We even found a pool bar, which was pretty cool. I met the people around us at the bar, at the beach, at diner and breakfast, in the elevator. Travis is so used to me now, it doesn’t even phase him. I am usually a little more startled by his quiet removal of himself. One time, in Home Depot, we were in an aisle talking about buying something. We were actually conversing. I added a thought and waited for his reply. I followed by, “Well, what do you think? … Hon?” I looked around and the only gentleman in the aisle looked at me like I might need to be escorted out of the store. I have tactics for reacting to these situations. When I am caught talking to myself, I just put my hand to my ear and pretend I have a Bluetooth device and I am actually talking on the phone. In this situation, since I was clearly looking for someone, I had to deploy one of the other plans. So, I just shrugged and said, “Looks like I am actually shopping alone. Whoops!” I really want to try continuing the conversation with imaginary Travis, allowing gaps for his responses (maybe even argue over something), and watch the other person flee. The third option was to start referring to the poor bystander as if he/she is Travis. Something like, “Will you get over here, hon? I was asking about this color tile. UGH!” I haven’t had the guts to do the latter two ideas, but they are in my back pocket, because Travis will wander away again.

So, I contemplate 30 years, and I’ve got nothing. We shouldn’t work, but somehow, we do work. We don’t agree on anything, except that we should dance whenever we get the chance. Although, we sometimes disagree on when it’s appropriate to dance. I am willing to dance in any restaurant if a great swing song comes on. Travis thinks that there needs to be a dance floor, and that perhaps dancing should be encouraged. I guess we also both agree on his guitar. He rarely goes anywhere without it, and I’m his biggest fan, despite the fact that I don’t understand why we need to have four guitars in our living room. I’ve given up trying to figure out how many guitars he has in total. 

I’ve got no words of wisdom. Well, except definitely go to bed angry. Most things look better after a good night’s sleep. We tried that whole “never go to bed angry” thing once and we both ended up going to work the next day angry, with no sleep. I say sleep! If you’re still angry in the morning, it’s probably worth fighting over. At least you’re not so tired, so you can make rational arguments.

So, happy anniversary to us! It may have been 30 years, but I like to remind Travis that he’s still day to day. Turns out, those days add up quickly! To Travis: I love you and I love us, even though we shouldn’t work. Maybe because we shouldn’t work. Nobody bet in our favor, except us. 

When Travis started medical school a year before we got married, he was in an orientation that told him that 86% of medical students that get married during med school will end up divorced. I’m not sure why he shared that with me, because it freaked me out. Travis just said, “Don’t you get it babe! We’re the 14! Someone has to be the 14. We’ll just be the 14%.” Looks like he was right! Here’s to 14!