little black journal

As much as I love to travel, I am a notoriously bad trip planner.  I put off the researching and reserving until Shane swoops in with that save-the-day manner of his, and promptly books us a room at someplace amazing and lines up a slew of activities and meals and cocktails on his giant clipboard o’ fun.  Such was the case with our anniversary trip – it was technically my turn to plan something this year, but after only 10 minutes of frustrated VRBO-surfing, I threw my hands up in exasperation.  Enter Shane, with a link to a charming little waterfront cottage on Whidbey Island and a list of nearby parks and restaurants.  I promptly booked it, and on Friday afternoon, we were island-bound.

We arrived at the house just in time to watch the sun set over the sound.  We took in the view from the deck, bouncing inside to warm ourselves by the fireplace when  the winds picked up.  We spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating ice cream and playing a round of 90’s “name that tune” via Spotify.  Nothing says happy anniversary like En Vogue and Goo Goo Dolls!

We rolled out of bed this morning only when we were good and ready, snacked on banana bread and fresh fruit while watching the sun glint off the water, and then went for a jog down the beach, stopping every so often for Shane to skip a rock or scout out the bald eagle we’ve seen criss-crossing the beach all day.

We left the house around lunchtime in search of hearty local cuisine, and found it at the Coupeville and Bayview Farmer’s Markets.  Mini-donuts as an appetizer followed by a salmon taco from a little stand at the Coupeville Market, and then a tri-tip sandwich at Bayview that rivaled SLO’s Firestone Grill (my Cal Poly peeps know the significance of this comparison), paired with a grilled artichoke and ice cold lemonade.  In the words of La Verne, “nom nom”.

After stuffing ourselves silly, we drove over to Ebey’s Landing for a beach-front hike.  The fields leading to the water were shining in vivid shades of green and yellow, and the lookouts over the sound were breathtaking.

We made it back to the car just as our legs were about to give out, and the deck at the house proved to be the perfect place to put our feet up and catch a breath of fresh, salty air.  We cracked open the special bottle of champagne we’d brought along, put together a plate of chevre-smeared crackers and squares of dark chocolate, and spent a couple of hours letting the sun warm our cheeks, listening to the tide come in while we talked and laughed and felt so…content.  It was the kind of day I desperately wanted to stretch on forever.

Tomorrow, we officially celebrate six years of marriage – I’ve been trying to wish Shane a happy anniversary all weekend, but before I can get the words out, he shushes me and says “not yet!” (in the same way that he believes Christmas music should only be played on Christmas Day, he believes anniversary wishes are only applicable one day out of the year).  So tomorrow, Mr. Schnell.  Tomorrow I’m laying it on thick.