But before I met the dogs, I met my husband. Now, if someone would have told me on our first date that I was going to marry him, I would have laughed. Our relationship was one that looked good on paper, but in person we were totally wrong for one another. It took us a few years, around five of them if memory serves me correctly, to work it all out and finally decide that fate brought us together and love would never tear us apart. This year we will celebrate our eighth year of marriage and I don’t know what I did to deserve someone who is not only my best friend but allows me to talk about him to strangers in the newspaper. He’s a keeper.
My third confession is that I don’t like cucumbers. If one should make it’s way to my salad, I kindly give it up to the nearest bidder — usually my husband. But I love pickles. I’ve no idea why I favor one and not the other. Essentially, they are the same thing.