The Flamingo That Tried to Drown Me

Newsletter 2019-08-26

This weekend, my wife Lola and I celebrated our twelfth anniversary. For those of you keeping track at home, which I assume is none of you, that’s twelve years longer than the oddsmakers thought we’d make it. According to Vegas, Lola had a one in two chance of realizing her mistake in the first twelve months and driving away forever and a one in three chance of running over me on her way out. Today I can confidently say the experts were wrong. Either I’m a better husband than everybody expected or Lola is more forgiving than any one person has any right to be. Who am I kidding? It’s the latter. Although I still stay off the sidewalk when she’s driving just in case.

This is one of the only images from our wedding day where my eyes are open. I’ve been ruining all our pictures together right from the start.

Lola and I met in the first few weeks of college as eighteen-year-old freshmen, and we’ve been together ever since. We're thirty-four now, or at least I am. I forget what the rules are …