It’s my twentieth wedding anniversary today, and you’d think that would be something awesome like The Emerald Anniversary or The Ruby Anniversary, but it turns out it’s just China, according to the official lists put out by greeting card companies (and if you can’t trust them, who can you?). China seems lame. The last thing we need around this cluttered house is more fancy dishware that won’t fit in the cupboard and only gets used once a year for Christmas dinner.

Although I suppose in days of lore, when women in prairie homes were living with tin plates for two decades, the addition of a nice china teacup or two must have felt pretty fancy. Still: please do not send us any china.

Twenty years sure does sound like a long time, and I have to admit, those people in our wedding photos look like someone else’s children. Were we ever so young? Were we ever so thin? Did we ever have that much hair? Apparently so, as these were the days before Photoshop.

As usual on our anniversary, we aren’t doing much to celebrate. There’s Guides and Brownies tonight, homework and piano practice, and later, for a special treat, a bowl of popcorn to share while watching Survivor. We’ll be working and running errands and somewhere in the middle we’ll have a moment or two to chat about our day, and make plans for the weekend.

Maybe some plans for this summer.

Maybe plans for our 25th anniversary.

Maybe plans for the next 20 years.

In any case, we’ll be planning it together. I’m looking forward to it.