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I know that I am posting ahead of schedule, but events are in motion that simply cannot wait until Monday.

Camille, the Hot Comma Momma, the joy of my heart, the mother of my offspring, is gone.

At this very moment, she is in Central America, fighting terrorism, teaching advanced asbestos handling,1 or possibly studying Spanish.

Perhaps all three, you can never tell with her.

Her departure, besides leaving me with the Three Children of the Apocalypse, has created a real challenge in trying to celebrate our eighteenth wedding anniversary.

Your author and his bride doing the dos.

Back in the day

Now, I will be the first to admit that not all of the first seventeen were always wonderful. We had various obstacles and impediments to overcome in commemorating our wedded bliss, but as I recall, up until this point we have both managed to at least be present for the festivities.2

So today it is my privilege to present a very public and quite international celebration of anniversary love to my absent darling. All comments and well-wishes will be addressed to Camille, Mistress of All Things Comma, in a brave attempt to overcome this transnational hurdle that has come between us.

The Happy Couple: Now ~ the Ominous Comma

In the Glorious Present

Everyone is invited, no gifts are necessary. No need to RSVP.

Comment boxes are standing by.

Happy Anniversary, Beautiful.

Happy Sunday everyone.

  1. See comment 32 for a full illumination of this persistent inside joke.
  2. I may have missed one or two while serving in the Marines, but I don’t really remember and with all things anniversary it is far better to bluff then be caught in forgetfulness.