Beware the Ides of March, the soothsayer warned Julius Caesar in a Shakespeare play.
Caesar didn't listen. And neither did we.
Instead we tied the knot on March 15, chiefly so that two of our sisters -- college professors -- could attend our wedding during spring break.
As it turned out, our nuptials also coincided with the spring thaw that year, leaving the two-track that passed for our drive back then a mud bog that made parking difficult and sucked at the shoes of guests attending the open house-slash-reception afterwards.
Since then, I've come to have other reasons to regret getting married in a season halfway between lion and lamb. Most have to do with our anniversary, which I like to use as an excuse for a vacation. By the time the date rolls around, though, my cabin fever has usually reached such a pitch that we've already shot our wad -- in dollars, if not in paid time off -- on a January or February trip somewhere warm.
Sometimes we make up for it with a modest anniversary weekend in Detroit or Chicago or the U.P. But I've learned two other things about middle March: flu and cold season. Once we spent our entire romantic getaway in a deluxe hotel room with hot tub and king-size bed -- and never used either except to sleep off the bug that bit us.
Truth be told, romantic holidays have been touchy for me since the Valentine's Day in college when I made my boyfriend a giant, heart-shaped Rice Krispie treat tinted pink. When I presented it to him, he informed me he was seeing someone else. I threw my engagement ring out the window of my top-floor dorm room where it fell under several feet of snow and lay until spring.
This year we canceled our February trip to California at the last minute. At first I was disappointed, especially when I thought about the rebooking fees we'll have to pay when we finally use the non-refundable airline tickets. Then I learned the pro-am golf tournament we were going to see was canceled, too, after three days of steady wind and rain. All we missed was one of the area's coldest and grayest weeks in years.
Happily, that left money for an anniversary trip downstate for my favorite pizza and a jolt of spring at a botanical garden. With my husband's cold looking like it should run its course by then, I was developing high hopes for a cozy weekend.
Now it seems we'll be sharing our celebration with our dog, who hasn't come to terms with the post-surgery cone around her head and neck. A collie who's more Lucy than Lassie, she's still spatially challenged and needs guidance around corners and extraction from tight spaces.
Luckily, this hotel room comes with a king-size bed, too. We'll need it for our menage à trois.
Reach staff writer Marta Hepler Drahos at mdrahos@record-eagle.com.
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