When I sent the wrong email to the right female.

As the inaugural post for what’s sure to be the best damn blog on all of Winfield St, I thought I’d start it off in the most obvious fashion by recanting the tale of how I met my beautiful, smart and all-around amazing lady, Ashley.

The year was 2005.  Snoop Dogg was dropping things like they were hot, and I was living in a cozy apartment at the foot of Lombard St.  After a couple of coincidental occurences, it had dawned on me that my shut-in landlord Dave was going through my apartment while I was at work.

I needed to move.

Being the good tenant that I am, I spammed the following to close friends:
Movin' on up

Not expecting a response back, I was surprised when the following arrived:

Wrong AEwald?

Another aewald? What were the chances? I needed to get to the bottom of this.

There can be only one.

And with a spring in her step, and a pun in her pocket, she ushered her way into my heart.

Lesser?

After five years and thousands of emails, we met on a warm summer day to tie the knot.

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