Jason uses Google Photos (while I'm more of a "I have seven different cloud accounts for photo backup but forget about all of them until the exact second I drop my phone/spill wine on the laptop" kinda gal) and it occasionally makes little collages for him automatically, clearly using some kind of terrifying facial recognition/tracking technology that it's best to not think too hard about.
It made this one of us recently, which could be accurately categorized as "Selfies Taken In Bars" or "Photos In Which Jason Looks Infuriating Handsome & Charming While Amy...Is Also...There."
Very apt for today, our 20th (T-W-E-NNNNNN-T-I-E-T-H) wedding anniversary. The anniversary of the day I somehow convinced this man to marry and run away with 20-year-old me. Well before my jawline started melting into my neck.
And if that weren't crazy enough, I've also somehow convinced this man to marry me AGAIN, next month. We'll be renewing our vows in the style we always dreamed our first dirt-poor, underage wedding could have been.
Which is obviously: Vegas. And Elvis. I can't wait.
It's been a really tough year, there's no denying that. Definitely the kind of year that puts the original "in sickness and in health" vows to the test, and I'm so wonderfully lucky that Jason not only rose to the occasion like the rock that he is, he's also ready to double down on that vow for the next 20 years and beyond.
I really really really love you, babe. None of us would be here without you, and you make me very very happy to be here.