Yesterday, October 17, was the second anniversary of the day the fiance and I first met. Or, as we call it, our second meetiversary. We can trace it to the exact date becase we met at a scheduled event -- even though it was nearly two months before we got together again. We didn't do anything special to mark the occasion (except watch Private Practice and make fun of it, of course), but it's still fun to think about where we were individually two years ago, and how little we anticipated what was in store for us. I spent part of the evening assembling our wedding invitations, and 2005 Mollie certainly wouldn't have predicted that. (The "gluing things together while watching TCM" part would not have surprised me. Just the "wedding" part.)
Also yesterday, I played a few highly competitive hands of Go Fish with my sister and my just-shy-of-five-years-old nephew. It's fun to watch him learning about strategy, because it doesn't come naturally at all (our recent game of Memory would have gone on for hours if I hadn't been liberal with the hints). He knows that the point of Go Fish is to collect four of a kind (these particular cards have fish on them), and the person with the most matches wins. But he didn't know how to help himself progress toward this goal, so as we played, we reminded him to do things like listen to what other people asked for and check his hand to see whether he had any potential matches. At one point he asked for a card that he'd already collected all four of, so we told him to try again. "Aunt Mollie," he said, "do you have any clown fish?" I had two clown fish, so I made a big deal out of how sad I was to part with them, and he added them to his collection. We weren't sure he was paying close attention to his hand, so his mother prompted him: "Do you have all four now?" "Nope," he said proudly. "These are my first clown fish." I'm not sure, but I think he outsmarted us both.