One down.

One down.
This whole first anniversary weekend was magical and lovely, except for the fight we had about cleaning the house for the party. (I was, however, impressed with our communication in the Fight Aftermath. You know, less “shut up, damn it,” and more “____ made me feel _____.”)

We spent much of Saturday getting things in order and cooking for the party, and then we spent a lovely evening with our friends and family. Sunday, we went sailing with my precious coworkers after church. All was beautiful and your standard sunny southern California sailing experience until the mast cable broke, sending the sail plummeting onto Erik’s head. His head broke through the canvas. I’m serious. In fact, after we pried him out from beneath it, we decided we had just missed a prime photo op and then staged a reenactment. There was much commotion and hullabaloo and two of my friends held out a towel to pick up the wind and carry us ashore in the absence of a real sail. I don’t think I could pick a better bunch of friends with whom to find myself shipwrecked.

That night, we shared a lovely dinner at Galoka, home of amazing all-vegetarian Indian food, fantastic art, a mostly organic wine list, and kick ass music. I pretty much cleared my plate. Except for those carrots. I once ate some carrots that tasted like dish soap, and I haven’t been able to forgive carrots since.

The anniversary weekend ended bittersweetly, with Erik driving back to Ojai this morning. SAD TIMES. However, the rest of the day was peppered with the following little gems:

Erik found out that as soon as he gets back into town from his National Forest job, he is starting up again at the county for election season. Thank you, sweet gods of employment.

Sarah came over tonight and we mastered “Cedar Tree” by the Indigo Girls. I had to tune my guitar down to DGDGBD and it sounded so beautiful I’m considering leaving it that way permanently and limiting my repertoire to drop-tuned songs.

Sarah was recounting a story to me from earlier in the day, in which she quoted herself as saying, “my best friend Julia…” I can’t even describe how lovely this makes me feel. Call me twelve, but I adore being a best friend.

As I retreated to the boudoir, I noticed that my sweet departed husband had left a mix-CD for me on my pillow. On my PILLOW! It’s a mix of sweet songs very dear to our hearts. (I totally feel like I’m being wooed by the main male character in a WB drama. A mix snuck onto a pillow is so Dawson and Joey.)

Never felt magic, crazy as this.