this hawks nest: to breathe or not to breathe: our first anniversary

Alright, to be fair, our first anniversary was three months ago. I know. Shameful. But so many of you have stayed with me the last three months of "is she going to post this week," and I believe it is just worth the time.

Most couples remember their first anniversary with fondness, I presume. I also presume there is a dinner, perhaps flowers, some gift made of paper if the couple is really on top of tradition. Ideally, I wanted to go to Canoe Bay for the weekend, but since we weren't interested in spending $1000 for the full experience, we've decided to save up for it and go there on our fifth.

Instead, we tried to go "up nort" to the cabin where Hawk proposed, and when that fell through, we decided to spend 3 days in Door County. For those of you unfamiliar with Door County, oh, become familiar! It is a gem. A peninsula. (Those of us who know better call it an island):

We were all set to go after Mass on Sunday, the 16th (our anniversary). Hawk had respectfully asked if he could play basketball that morning, and of course, I said yes.

Can you see where this might be going?

Around 9:20am, I finished packing and thought, "What a good wife I am. I could have made a big deal about his wanting to play ball on the morning of our anniversary, but what's the big deal? And how great am I? for recognizing this and not making into a big deal something that is good to do."

Not too minutes later, Hawk walked into the house and I heard from downstairs:

"Babe, I have some bad news."

I froze. Bad news means anything from I crashed the car to someone died.

"What," I replied. Just like that. Not a question. A statement. An acknowledgement that I'm ready to hear whatever it is.

"I broke my nose."

Oh yes. My good-natured husband broke his nose during the last pick-up game, and instead of rushing home for me to take care of it, he stopped the bleeding so it wouldn't look worse than it was and then proceeded to feel like he had ruined our anniversary. When I finally saw him, I found his nose cracked at the equator, shoved to the side, and swollen.

Poor guy.

Long story short, we made it to Mass where the priest was waiting for us to give us a marriage blessing. He's a really great guy, so of course he roasted Hawk a bit.

The best part? Instead of a simple blessing, he had us take each other's hands and renew our vows. Gazing at my poor, generous husband looking like this made those vows even more potent:

After Mass, we waited until we could meet up with Dad Hawk, an oral surgeon, and a dear family friend, Dr. D, so they could take a look at the nose and possibly reset it. In obvious pain, he didn't complain once. Just kept apologizing. The Drs wouldn't let me watch---they were worried that I would pass out and fall on the baby. Good worry. When I heard about the sound it made when they reset it.... ugh.

So we jumped back in the car and around 4:30pm, we finally took off for Door County.

Here's a final pic of my husband of one year, all drugged up, patched up, and still patient.