Ten years of love and food
He has seen me at my worst, my crankiest, my lowest, and he's been there with patience, strength and hot tea. He's also seen me at my best, my happiest, my most content--and more often than not, he's been the reason.
In our decade together, we figured out our career paths, bought a house and started a family (in a sense). We've celebrated joyful moments and helped each other through devastatingly sad ones. And everything has been so much better for being able to share it with him.
And of course, there's been eating. Plenty of eating. Together, we've:
- scarfed down poutine at midnight in Montreal
- spent our last Euros on stinky cheese at the gourmet store at Charles de Gaulle airport (and eaten it like refugees, cramming it into our mouths at the gate)
- grown our own tiny, candy-sweet cherry tomatoes
- shared roast suckling pig in Puerto Rico; barbecued pork in Texas; pork pies in England
- ordered frog, ostrich, kangaroo, eel, cricket, and snake-infused absinthe