22 Valentines Days...

February 14, 1987 was the day of my first date with the beauty sitting on the front of the hippo. We had dinner at the Chart House in Portland, OR (at the top of Terwilliger with a great view). Then we drove down to the Columbia River to watch the submarine races (see note below).

It was the best first date ever.

And within a month's time, I was off the market forever... hopelessly in love with the woman who would become my wife in a little over a year's time.

In the course of these 22 Valentines Days we have experienced our highest highs and lowest lows... together. We have lived in Portland and LaPine, OR, in Bellevue and Maple Valley, WA, and in San Jose and Fresno, CA (in 13 different places). We have served together in 5 churches (and apart in 2 others). We have been totally broke and absolutely debt free. And we have been blessed with two incredible, wonderful, handsome young men.

How could have I known then, on that first date 22 years ago, that we would experience a lifetime of love together?

Happy Valentines, my love!

*Update: JVO thought "watching the submarine races" might be a metaphor for "hiding the pickle" which is, of course, a metaphor for something that didn't happen until we got married. For the record, "watching the submarine races" is a metaphor for "picking a little neck" which us a metaphor for, well, you know...