We worked the Star-Tribune booth at Nic Fest last weekend selling cookbooks and enlisting newspaper subscribers from a tent next to a wickless-scented candle seller.

It was an on-the-clock date. We were working, but not really.

Real work can't be done on a sunny Sunday afternoon, sipping water and white wine from plastic cups while a folk singer strums his guitar and sings about young love.

For entertainment, I brought my knitting and a novel.

But I was distracted by babies napping in strollers; dogs with noses to the ground, searching for dropped food; old couples with walkers, wrinkled arms comfortably intertwined.

From where we sat, the breeze blew just enough to cool us and the sun shone just enough to warm us.

The scene brought to mind the sunny day we were married. With the cloudless sky, June flowers in bloom, and the soft hum of neighbors murmuring to one another, I wasn't paying much attention to my knitting or the book.

A reading at the wedding and part of our vows were taken from a short story, "Upon Meeting the 100 Percent Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning."

We catered it to our needs for the wedding, even though it's actually a sad tale about a man walking past his perfect mate on the street, never meeting her and ending up with someone 70 or 80 percent perfect for him.

For us, the 100 percent perfect couple didn't pass on the street. We stopped, talked, and fell in love.

Our vows were a unique hodge podge of tradition and innovation, promising love forever without obedience.

"You are the 100 percent perfect girl for me, and so I give you my life to keep."

Now, with the novel in my lap and my match by my side, I couldn't help but think of those vows.

Even on an 80 percent perfect day, under a 95 percent perfect sky, my life is 100 percent perfect.

Because I found the 100 percent perfect man for me.

Contact reporter Megan Lee at (307) 266-0616 or megan.lee@trib.com.