Our house went into escrow last night. We have thirty days (give or take a few, depending on various logistical complexities) to vacate the house that started out as just the place where we lived, and that has since become our home.

I have thirty days to find a mover, pack up three human beings and three animals, coordinate a 350-mile move to an as-of-yet-unknown location, negotiate leases and school enrollments and doctor referrals and internet hookups, figure out how to handle the fact that I have a business trip scheduled to begin on the day that we are scheduled to move (woooops), and theoretically maintain...you know, like, normal life. Or an approximation of it.

So you know what the first thing I did when I woke up this morning was?

That time we went to Maine and got married.

A little over ten years ago today, Kendrick and I - and his best man, Matt - arrived in Ogunquit, Maine, and checked into our respective hotel rooms. The rest of our family and friends weren't set to start trickling in for a couple of hours more, so we decided to wander down to the main part of town and get some lunch, maybe check out the beach.

We wandered into a little jewelry shop - a touristy gift place, full of t-shirts and hats with GONE FISHING and IT'S BEER O'CLOCK SOMEWHERE and such on them. I spotted this necklace - a gold starfish studded with tiny crystals - and I loved it so much, but when I say that we were broke after paying all of the wedding expenses, I mean we were let's-not-get-coffee-at-the-deli-today-because-it-costs-a-dollar-style broke. The necklace was only twelve dollars, but still. That was twelve coffees.