Nuv. Five years ago today.

These hands. BLOORGH'd together with a few words and a few grand in metal. We were married.

Oh, and smooches. They are necessary too. (Sorry for calling them smooches.)

Your fantastic friends were there. I am so lucky to call them my friends too. Boys don't like wives all the time. I don't take it for granted that I was welcomed into the fold with so much love.

My f-cking gorgeous girls were there too. Thanks for letting me be a total dickbag for most of the day guys.

We had the very best photographer. Seriously, if you're getting hitched, call Rick Collins. At the end of it all, you only have a slurred memory of the day and your pictures. (Also, take your friends to dress fittings so they can make sure your dress is taken in in the boobs properly. GAPEY GAPERSON.)

We played croquet. And by play I mean I had many heavy balls whipped at my bare feet. I'm just going to let that sentence lay there.

We drove around in a limo from 1984. A Prince impersonator should totally have been driving it.

We waited patiently to eat. I remember a waiter bringing me a toasted piece of rice bread and acting like he handed me a slab of solid gold. It was so delicious.

Our buddies put together a movie. We did the ugly laugh for a long ass time.

We danced with lit fire on our heads because that's what you do apparently. (also GAPE.)

We went outside so Nuv's second suit could catch some air. Thank you Victoria harbour for being so navy blue.

Honeymoon and then all terrible hell broke loose and we lost people we loved so goddamn much and life is not necessarily easier with a husband. But you do have a body to throw your good and bad at - the echoes come back as calm and warm as a still summer lake.

We were selfish for years. Did exactly what we wanted to do and got comfortable in the ways of a life together. It was time to subtract all free time from our lives. It was time to see what our genes could pull off when smashed together. We made a kid. Stella Belle. The greatest collectible ever.

When you cram three people into a life, there is no room for error. Yet here I am all the time bumbling us all into the ditch. There is always you Nuv. You are my tow truck driver.
This life I live, one I could only daydream about when I was reading Judy Blume novels and eating string cheese with my legs stretched up to kick the top bunk, is the very best thing I could ever have hoped for.

Five years after the vows and party and 1200 bobby pins in my hair and your two f-cking suits and our hardcore rap playlist, you are still the f-cking cream in my coffee. The sugar? She's right here. Happy Anniversary.