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September 5, 2002: Lo and behold, there were good times to be had. Specifically, good times had the weekend before September 5th. B. and I saw an amazing Springsteen show, followed by three nights in a knock-out suite at the top of the Renaissance. I'm forever spoiled because of this.

But on our actual anniversary, B.'s boss paged him at 8 PM and kept him on the phone until well after midnight for a problem that could have waited until the next morning. Thing is, the boss knew it was our anniversary, as B. had taken off early - with his boss' blessing - so we could have our annual picnic. This boss has a history of passive-agressive nonsense.

I left the house in a fury sometime around Hour Three of the phone call.

September 5, 2003: Ah, the pregnant anniversary. We took a drive along Route 66 and had dinner at a lovely little diner in St. Clair, Missouri, pop. 4500.

September 5, 2004: Because he knows what's good for him, B. whisked my post-partum depressioning ass away to a delightful bed and breakfast. I don't remember much after the in-room massage.

September 5, 2005: I don't even remember. So much awful shit was going on that I didn't even care because caring was wearing me out. But in retrospect, it made me rather astute. I hadn't read that blog entry in awhile. I think I should make a point of reading it at least once a month. Maybe during the full moon.

September 5, 2006: Clara Jane and I didn't leave the house. We ate peanut butter sandwiches with homemade peach jam for lunch. We read books and cuddled on the couch. She napped. I did laundry and dishes, sewed a little, sorted throught he cache of hand-me-down clothes that we brought home this weekend. I watched an episode of "Desperate Housewives". B. went to the sleep center to get his CPAP adjusted. We had black bean burgers for dinner as part of our current attempt to be vegetarians three days a week. They needed more Tabasco. Clara Jane played in the shower and the dogs licked spilled shredded cheese off the exposed subflooring in the dining room.

I think we've hit the point where the bad anniversaries and the good ones have balanced each other out. We've also reached the point where they're not novel anymore. B. didn't give me a card, and I'm not even bothered slightly by this.

Today simply marks time moving on, and that's enough. But since my friend who passed six years ago has been on my mind, I'm going to end with some of her words:

Life is remarkable. I really don’t think that it happens by chance. The thing is, there is a plan out there, you just don’t get privy to it. When you see the big picture, it’s really too late most of the time. What really has shocked me is how one sentence, one question, one desire or observation can alter your life. These life altering situations can happen and you don’t even realize what happened for years most of the time.

Appropriate, because during each of those anniversaries, I never thought I'd remember the things that I actually remember. There were gifts, cards, impressive dinners, and they're a blur. The things that stand out in retrospect are the things that seemed inconsequential at the time, or bothersome. Life, unlike a cute wedding on a front porch followed by a picnic for 120 in the back yard, doesn't go according to plan, but it always works out in the end.