Only seven years.

This past weekend, P.I.C. and I had the opportunity to celebrate our wedding with our extended family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, canine relatives, they all trekked out to rural Wisconsin to visit and celebrate.

Including one particular cousin. Remember this one?

Well, we had a lovely cake with a bejeweled "Z" as a cake-topper. Well, this "Z" looked kind of like the number seven. My uncle jokingly asks me, "Hey, why do you have a "7" on the top of your cake?" My smart ass husband responded, "That's because we're going to have seven years together."

My response? "YOU ARE NASTY, P.I.C."

Of course, cousin says to me, "Why did you call him nasty?"

I told her, "You didn't hear him say that we were only going to stay married for seven years."

She then proceeded to give him a look that would wither a lovely rose (and likely make someone cry if they weren't expecting it) for a good thirty seconds. She then looks back at me and says, "That's not nice."

I said, "I KNOW. That's why I called him 'nasty,' obviously."

She then went back to eating her full plate of baked beans and side of "monster" cheese.

Clearly, my specialness runs in the family, doesn't it?

Here's to the next seven years of my life.