Today is our 23rd. Hard to believe Stan and I have been married that long. But then again it isn’t hard at all.
He has become my best friend.
Here we are under the elm. Ahhh, isn’t that sweet?
Our honeymoon consisted of one night in San Antonio. We stayed at the Emily Morgan. Our room had a view of the Alamo. We decided to take a romantic carriage ride and got a tour of back alleys and construction sites.
We had to get back home the next day because we needed to return the port-a-san we had rented. You know port-a-san? It’s one of those portable potties. Anyway we wrestled it up onto the bed of a pick-up we borrowed and because we didn’t have any tie-downs the maximum speed we could go was about 45 MPH. Any faster and the thing might have blown over. I’m sure your imagination can picture what a mess that would have been. Going 45 meant we couldn’t take the interstate home, we had to take a back road.
To this day we refer to that back road as the Port-a-san road. Or if we are going between 40 and 45 MPH we are going port-a-san speed.
When my sweetie asks, “Port-a-san, my dear?” I know he is asking me one of two things. Would I like to take that particular road to get to where we need to go, or would I like to go for a slow scenic drive?
Port-a-san anyone? It’s a way to slow down and smell the roses.