Matt and I had an anniversary a few days ago, and I was sentimentally browsing my photo files when I came upon this, one of my favorite pictures of us. The Eiffel Tower! So romantic! Check out that golden light from the setting sun!
But the very next photo that I looked at was this one:
This was taken while we toured the hall of mirrors at Versailles. We scrunched together as quickly as we could and pretended to take a mirror selfie (long before the word "selfie" even existed, remember those wonderful days?) so that we could capture the lady behind us without being too obvious. Acid green pantsuit and matching top hat? Is she related to Cornelius Fudge?
Seventeen years and three children into this marriage, I'm feeling thankful for someone who can endure and even appreciate the absurdities of daily life with me.
Although, as I look at our painfully bland clothes, I wish that we had been a little more chic. The lady in the top hat was probably like, "Well, hello, American tourists. You're visiting one of the most extravagant buildings in western civilization. Way to dig out your fanciest khaki shorts and t-shirts."
What can I say? We were living out of two backpacks for sixty days, one of which was devoted to that massive digital camera you see hoisted on Matt's shoulder.
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