We’ve been back stateside four months now, and I am still unpacking– actually, that’s a lie. I should say I’m still walking by boxes that I will probably hide in the garage over winter break, ready to be forgotten until our next move. One thing I’ve unpacked with unabashed delight is our family pictures that were in storage while we were overseas. Oh my goodness they crack me up.
Consider yourself warned: I’m putting Christmas pictures on parade this month. Matt and I were engaged twenty years ago on Christmas Day. I wanted to write a few words about our twenty Christmases together to mortify our children for posterity, but the real fun is in revisiting some of the attempts at holiday pictures (which will mortify them even more, so it’s a win-win).
We begin way before the children. Matt asked me to marry him on Christmas day 1995, in front of both our families. It was the last gift that day. My parents and sister drove to Oklahoma for Christmas, and they arrived on Christmas Eve. When my mom sent Dad out for ice, Matt went along and asked if he could marry me. La-tee-da. They had known each other maybe three hours. Dad, ever verbose and over-protective, said, “Well, sure.” Ahem.
The next morning, Matt asked and I accepted. 
Newly engaged and ready to take on the world! (or just finish college.)