The picnic date was everything I hoped for and then some. We drank sparkling grape juice out of goblets and ate garden freshness and hummus and drank a toast to joy. In the end, there is nothing quite like taking timed selfies with your husband of eleven years in a green and quiet graveyard. Jesus, […]
This post is not a confession. I ought to have one blog on which to confess and one on which to brag. But you wouldn’t read the brag blog, would you? Oh that’s right, you would–you already read fifty others. Sigh. You’ll just have to put up with the occasional non-confession from the Confessions girl.