(Above: Peter Morwood at the Central Park Lake boathouse, 1987)
Sometimes all you can do is repeat yourself.
As of today, it’s been nineteen thirty-five years since I married this man…only partly realizing the incredible deal I was getting: life-partnership with a talented and twisty-brained writer, a careful and methodical modeler, a clever and knowledgeable swordsman, a rampaging sex god (are the two connected, I wonder?…), a gifted etymologist, a creative and reliable chef, an unerring continuity guy, a film enthusiast and screenwriter with a 70mm screen buried in his brain…a man equally gifted at understanding train timetables, impressing Paris cabbies with his French accent, and sticking pills down reluctant cats.
And I am, pardon me for saying it, the luckiest woman on Earth. [ETA: and are any women in space at the moment? Luckier than them too.)
Happy anniversary, sweetie. ❤️
