Ten years ago next week — May 9th, 1997 — my husband-to-be and I went out on our first date.

I had a mangorita, he had a vodka rocks. I was so nervous I dropped a hunk of bread in my water.

When we got engaged two months later — not quite two months even, because really, why waste time? — we were in Lisbon, Portugal. He took me there to introduce me to my future mother-in-law, who was working there at the time. If you have never been to Portugal, I highly recommend you get your booty over there. They have it all — romance, the gorgeous ocean, incredible beaches, castles and nice people, great food, streetcars that go careening around hither and yon. And Portuguese, which I do not understand one word of. I barely speak English, I think that’s probably obvious by now.

So when we went out for Chinese food, and the six-foot-tall Chinese waiter came over to our table and asked me, in Portuguese, what I would like for dinner, I turned to Hockey God (who was not yet Hockey God, he was just this cool guy I’d run off with to Europe) and he ordered for us. In pretty good Portuguese. Which he had never spoken before. That, to me, was very cool. I did not drop my bread in the water this time, mainly because no bread was served.

More about Lisbon: It is sunny there, and they have funiculars. Funiculars! Also we ate a lot of ice cream.

But we had no rings! So off we went to Iowa City, Iowa, after a brief visit to Prague (for my beau) and a trip back to Portland (for me) and bought a couple of gold bands at a jeweler’s downtown. Then I met my father-in-law and stepmother-in-law for the first time. I may have dropped my bread in my water glass. We had a fun trip.

(that’s us)

Happy Anniversary, sweets. It just keeps getting easier, doesn’t it? HA!