Yes, the title of this piece is right. Clif and I have been married for 36 years. Yikes! That’s a long time. All marriages have their ups and downs, and ours is no different, yet I am ever so grateful to still be married to a handyman Yankee who just this weekend fixed the power mate to our vacuum cleaner, which means we didn’t have to buy a new one, and says “Pretty darned good,” when I make him a meal that he likes. I love chocolates and flowers as much as the next woman, but what I really appreciate are the details of everyday life—the fixing of things when they are broken, riding our bikes, listening to music, watching movies, cooking for family and friends, walking the dog, working on creative projects. This delight in the quotidian, I think, is partly what has held our marriage together over the years. Let’s face it, hot romance only lasts so long, and then couples must face the practical and sometimes difficult rhythm of life.

On Sunday, we went to our daughter Shannon and her husband Mike’s home for an anniversary meal of lentil soup, homemade pretzels, and chocolate caramel brownies. I ate too much, of course, but how good it all was. There was a walk—brisk but fine—on the beach with the dogs, our Liam and their sweet, little Holly. Mike gave us a lovely photograph of lobster traps glowing in the sun.

On the home front, to celebrate our 36 years, I’ll be making a quiche with smoked cheddar, which I’ll serve with cole slaw and olive oil toasts.

A very, very happy anniversary.

Here are some pictures from Sunday.