8th anniversary = pottery

It's anniversary season in this family.  Both of Ben's siblings were married in June as were we.  Sam and Mary saw how awesome we are and wanted to get in on the action, obviously.  Obviously... (ha)

I don't know if others our age do this too, but we like to follow the traditional anniversary gifts for each year.  Sometimes, it's been a nod to tradition (leather, you are a tricky one).  Several times, we've been thoroughly engrossed by the guidelines.  As with any gifts that we choose for each other, we have two mostly steadfast rules:

1.  An experience with the spouse trumps a gift just for the other every time.

2.  Avoid monetary extravagance.  Acts of service for the other and that which is full of thought and intent is always appreciated more.

I feel no guilt for not having purchased anything for the boy for our anniversary.  I would have been surprised if he had bought anything for me.  Instead, I was thinking about pottery.  Why?  Because the eighth anniversary traditionally comes with a gift of pottery or bronze.  As my mom would say, "Sorry, I'm fresh out of bronze..."  Granted, I'm fresh out of pottery as well, but it seems to be more readily accessible.  And it turns out, the boy was thinking pottery as well.  And, he was thinking the exact same kind of pottery experience that I was.  Hello...good choice, my friend.

We left the girls behind and headed out for an afternoon (wahoo!) on the town.  And it was giddy fun.  I kind of feel like I'm in a bit of a stupor or I'm first-day-of-summer-vacation dull with my hyper consciousness on sleep mode whenever we're out together with no kids around.  All of a sudden, I have to make conversation.  Real, logical conversation.  Pat ourselves on the back: the conversation was interesting and easy peasy, and we didn't even talk about the girls for the most part (a surefire safe topic)! 

Half of our afternoon involved eating.  Have you ever experienced a progressive dinner?  We manufactured our own version involving progressive dessert stops.  ($14 just for desserts.  As in...$14.  Which is...four gallons of gas, give or take.  About 200 miles in my car.)

The first half of the afternoon, however, was were tradition met rule #1: an experience with the spouse is always a winner.  We spent a couple of easy going hours painting pottery together.  And the Daddy that he is, the boy chose to paint a cute little piggy bank for the baby bean.  He chose the colors.  He did it all himself (including the polka dots!) and wouldn't let me help him when I finished first. 

Adorable in its imperfections.  Super sweet in its intent.  I love it.

And I chose a platter.  It's actually pretty large though it doesn't look like it in this picture.  I arduously scratched out a quote (my writing paint was acting up on me) on the back as well, though I later realized that I forgot to attribute it before it was glazed and fired.  English teacher fail.  But I can't enumerate enough how much I adore this piece as well.  Again, I love the imperfections.  I'm stoked by the colors.  I will glory in seeing this piled up with sweet goodies in the future, which for me is a big part of my love language. 

Experiences are always the best.