Twenty. Five.

Today is Mama and Daddy's anniversary! My parents have been married for a solid twenty five years today. That's a quarter of a century, friends. To celebrate, I went looking for wedding pictures.

yes, Daddy has the same glasses.

I will leave you with a conversation that occurred a few weeks ago when Mallory, Mama, and I sat down for lunch together at the house and got to talking about marriage.

"Mama, how did Daddy propose?"

"Well, he took me out on a date to Bonanza and then we stopped at one of the rest stops on the Natchez Trace and he just asked me if I wanted to get married."

"That's not very romantic, but Daddy's not really romantic now. Has he ever been romantic?"

"I had two kids didn't I?"

"Oh God! Oh God! Never ever ever ever say that again."

TMI, Mama, TMI.

Michael, do you like lesbians?

Not braggin' or nothing, but I don't think that I could have planned a better way to spend Memorial Day if I tried. I cut a trail with the Bunch's to a little island in Florida where there wasn't much to see except for sand crabs and retirees on their padded-seated bikes.

Now, my favorite part of the trip, other than seeing Ben Bunch get weird red designs on his back as a result of my sunblock application, was the company that was kept. This company included four Filipinos, an Uncle Bobby, who really isn't an Uncle at all, and Uncle Bobby's girlfriend, who has the most interesting haircut I have seen in all my life. We ate white rice with soy sauce and vinegar while talking about the time that Maw-Maw Bunch shot a buffalo in her front yard with a .22. Needless to say, I now have way more Mantachie stories than I can count and have picked up a few Filipino words.

Matthew kept running around speaking a English/Filipino mix. Except for when he'd poke you and say "hey hey hey! Fat Albert!"

When it got too hot outside to go to the beach, and it did, Ben and I rode our bikes to Fort Pickens, a Fort used for battle in the Civil War. On the way back, Ben's bike had a blowout, but lucky for us, Uncle Bobby spared us from the mile walk back.

Memorial Day was spent at the Pensacola Naval Aviation Museum. I don't know a thing about planes, but had a good time anyway. Mr. Paul and Ben drug me up to the top of the Pensacola lighthouse and let me just say that I was terrified. Yes, I have jumped out of a plane and plummeted toward the earth, but that lighthouse with its see-through, narrow, winding steps had my head spinning. Surely I wasn't the only one with rubber legs when I got to the top.

Did I mention that Memorial Day was gay pride weekend in Pensacola? Yep. It was. Complete with men in thong bikinis and rainbow flags everywhere. Ben took the opportunity to take mine and Mrs. Marcia's picture amongst a crowd of lesbian women. Thanks Ben.