Greg and I celebrate our 17th wedding anniversary today. Last night when we went out on the town, we ended up behind a car with the whole “Just Married” treatment — streamers, gobs of foamy writing, things tied on and flapping in the wind. We honked and waved and they waved back.

Yep, been there, kids. I remember that day. And I remember having a one-month anniversary and a six-month anniversary. For years, we noted not only the wedding anniversary but the proposal anniversary and the first meeting anniversary.

And now we’ve been married 17 years and today we bought mulch and weeded the garden. I’ll make us some burgers most likely.

I hasten to add two things, lest we seem like the least romantic couple on earth:

1. We did the big anniversary dinner last night and have a cruise coming up at the end of the week. A person can only stand so much celebrating.
2. Somehow the things like making hamburgers and weeding the garden together become part of the romance. It’s hard to explain, but the reason we don’t get as into Valentine’s Day and all that as we used to is because every day is a little Valentine’s Day. I’m betting that’s what a lot of “old married folks” find.

All the same, I’m for sure going to make a cake. Heck, you have to observe some of the proprieties.