Stormy Romance

Our wedding anniversary is ten days away, and at this time of year, DH and I always like to recall the particular drop in barometric pressure that heralded the beginning of our relationship.

It was a spring day, and there were storms a-brewing. As the rain fell, everyone in town began to hear the unmistakable sounds of golf-ball-sized hail hitting roofs, cars, etc. (Okay, some accounts said tennis-ball-sized hail, maybe citrus-fruit-sized hail--whatever.)

Then my phone rang. It was my dentist, whom I had seen for a recent checkup, calling to ask me out on a date. I know--I was surprised, as well. He assured me that he’d never asked another patient to go out with him. He was engaging: “I only like three restaurants in town, and they’re all dumps,” he declared. I liked those restaurants, too.

At the time, I was working as a special auditor for the State; Mountain Man likes to say that I worked for the "State IRS." At work on Monday, I was telling my immediate supervisor how my dentist had called and asked me out. “Isn’t that weird?” I said.

“How long have you been seeing this dentist?” he asked. “Oh, about a couple of years.” “A couple of years? What was different this last time?” I replied, “Let’s see--well, it was a State holiday. I was wearing jeans.”

He thought for a minute, and offered, “You look good in jeans.”

So whether it was the barometric pressure, the jeans, or the way he made me laugh, in ten days we will have been married for 19 years.

And we have lots and lots of other stories.