a good deal, a big deal?

I dislike so-called advice goddess Amy Alkon's column because her articles are garrulous, pointlessly sarcastic and occasionally verge on misogynistic. But I read them from time to time - mostly to try to guess how Hax, whom I adore, or even that insipid Annie's Mailbox, who 99 percent of the time never say anything useful - or anything at all, really, except "Please seek counseling" - would respond to the same issue.

Recently came across this column, which I had to laugh about because it underscores a recurring theme in Cub & Cat's marriage. Not the finance issue, but the "Really? You're going to make a big deal about THAT?" issue.

Funny. Is it a $40 ski jacket, or is it one of a thousand reasons the man has a mountain of credit card debt?

Sometimes all you have to do is tip your head a shade to the right and squint your eyes a bit - et voilà - you can see the view from the other side.

For a relationship to work, you need to find "that thing your partner does" endearingly annoying as opposed to annoyingly annoying...even if you can't buy into their notion that the fundamental human needs are air, water, food, shelter and bugging the dog with the coolest new battery-operated, radio-controlled helicopter.

-- Amy Alkon

two!

Our marriage is two years and one week old! We have been through some beautiful highs and some putrid lows, but survival was the bottom line, and survive we did.

Taking it one day at a time ...

embattled

Snippets from the frontlines of an emotional weekend:

We discovered that we're not moving. There is too much to be done at both places to be using the phrase "We're moving." The limbo is tearing us apart. The new place is 75 percent done, with some very key components - like a bathroom ceiling - missing. The old place is a deplorable mess because I thought it best to box a lot of things and wait for the big move. This meant pulling clothes out of boxes to get dressed every day, clean laundry that wouldn't leave the basket until it was worn, a half-empty, half ready-to-move jungle gym of a closet organizer, and stacks, piles, mountains of laundry to navigate around, trip over, and step on.

This bugs Scott. It bugs him to no end. It bothers him so much that glancing at it on a Saturday morning can ruin his whole weekend, creating a bad mood in him that he subsequently uses to ruin mine.

The solution to all our problems has always been, Mrs. Cat, put your stuff away, and then get rid of stuff that doesn't have a "place." I moved into the apartment in May of 2006, he was partially moved in by November and fully moved in by 2007, and we've been fighting this out since. I wasn't even fully unpacked when he moved in. He started doing things like setting deadlines for unpacking, telling me that I shouldn't leave my watch on the kitchen counter, telling me that I have too many books, and lecturing me on how and when the turtle should be fed.

Now he wants to set out a big black garbage bag and do a big sweep of the apartment and whatever he feels is not in its proper place, he wants to put in the bag and throw out at the end of the week.

Solution or insult?

TBC (and C and C and C) I suspect.

we made four!

Yesterday was our fourth "Amazing" anniversary - the anniversary of our meeting each other at Art After Dark. "Isn't it amazing how many faces the Buddha has?" We really should frame the boddhisattva poster - now would be a great time, since we're moving and have to un-tape it from the wall anyway.

Taking a break right now to read Carolyn Hax - and as always, I stumbled upon something I love. This time the wisdom was shared not by CH but by a WaPo reader, responding to a disgruntled letter writer who complained that he should not have to "read his wife's mind" and that if she wants dinner made by the time she gets home from work, she should say so.

WaPo reader:

Here's the secret to a happy marriage. Contribute every day to what needs to be done. You see something that needs doing, do it. Don't use some transparent excuse about mind-reading. If you were an employee with that attitude, you'd get fired so fast your head would spin. If you were a roommate, you'd be out the door. If you aren't willing to give your wife the same consideration you would give a roommate or a co-worker - or the same consideration you expect her to give you - maybe marriage isn't really for you.

So true. I wouldn't say it's the secret, but I'd say it's definitely an important one.

Btw, my two cents on mind-reading expectations: If you want your husband or wife to stop off at the store on his or her way home because you're running low on rice, call and ask them to do that. Yes, they know as well as you do that you're low on rice. But maybe they were planning on picking it up tomorrow. So if you want it today, call and ask. If the shoe is on the other foot and you're on your way home from work and remember that you're running low on rice, call and ask H or W if they'd like you to pick it up. Or just do it. Don't hate, communicate! That's my PSA for the day. My sounds so easy, why aren't more people blissfully, harmoniously married? PSA.

HOWEVER: If you're married, especially if it's been for a number of years, and you've been reasonably attentive and considerate, there is a certain amount of mind-reading you should be able to do, whether you are a husband or a wife. Except it's not actually called mind-reading, it's called keeping the household and marriage functioning by employing common courtesy and using prior knowledge. Macro example: We take a pretty utilitarian approach to kitchen chores. They're technically my job (one minor blowout maybe a year ago decided this) but if there are dishes in the sink and he knows I'm cooking dinner that night, he'll clear the dishes before I get home. Micro example: If he's working overtime the morning after a training run, I volunteer to take the dog out that night. Mini-example: When I ask for a Pepsi, he does not bring me a Coke. Some people call it mind-reading. I call it Knowing Thy Partner*.

*None of this is to suggest we're proficient at this. We still have our sighing moments of passive-aggressive I'll just do it myself, then and boneheaded moments like the other day when I blithely checked the mail as he struggled to open the dumpster with 50 pounds of chopped-up wood in his arms. But you know, most of the time we do our best.

---

I also watched "Marley and Me" while finishing my classroom today. Of course I cried when Marley crossed the Rainbow Bridge, but the parts that really resonated with me were the rough patches in the Grogans' marriage. I may not have Marley, the worst dog in the world, but there have been moments where I've near-hysterically yelled at my husband to "get the stupid dog out of my sight before I kill him," and we've definitely been overwhelmed and disappointed by events similar to theirs (dog-related and non-dog-related.)

I wonder what the next four years will bring us, and what we will bring to each other. Hopefully no more dogs, but maybe a baby. Hopefully some significant financial savings, and maybe a house. Hopefully a lot of creative projects, and maybe some travels. We'll see.

♥

like a horse and carriage

I've been absolutely horrible at keeping up this blog, but wanted to post something to mark our one-year anniversary - although I am well over a month late in doing so. Life has been sweet, and we are so lucky. Some say the first year is hardest; I say if that was the hardest year, we got off scot-free. I mean, it wasn't the teddy bear's picnic or anything, but neither was it full of constant fighting or jarring revelations. Cub had more or less moved in within four months of our meeting each other, so we got the jarring revelations out of the way much sooner than the first year of our marriage. I think something that has played a hugely positive role in our fledgling marriage is our involvement with Engaged Encounter, a Catholic organization that helps engaged couples discover aspects of each other and their relationship over a weekend of discussion, prayer, and talks by senior and junior teams of married couples. Basically, if you want to be married in the Catholic Church, in Honolulu (and in many other dioceses across the U.S.) you are required to attend EE.

Although it's a required weekend retreat, it's not preachy, holier-than-thou, or even really very "Catholic" in nature. Very spiritual, but it doesn't turn off non-Catholic participants. The greatest thing was and continues to be the volunteers, because being graced with friends who are married - who believe in marriage, who love being married, and who work at their relationship with passion - is a great fortune. Couples who have been married 40+ years, couples who have been married less than a year and all couples in between form a community of volunteers and friends who, at the end of some long days, are a major source of inspiration for this couple to sit down and talk things out productively, acknowledging the grace of God and our being chosen for and by each other, no matter how vividly we may be imagining a big red boxing glove on a direct, slow-mo path to the other's face.

Despite my being slightly overextended in other projects and work-related things, we decided to increase our volunteer involvement with EE 1) to support the organization (and the people behind the organization) that contributed greatly to our strong start and 2) to strengthen our friendships with the other people, whose own examples remind us to turn to each other when our relationship is stressed and not away from each other.

Re-reading this all and realizing I made EE sound like a cult and us like religious fanatics. Totally inaccurate on both counts, but I'm tired.

Updates: We still haven't honeymooned, we now have three kids (moved my old kitty cat in with us so now we are a family of 5 with 16 total legs. If I count the turtle we're a family of 6 with 20 total legs. If I count the worm bin we're a family of several hundred, but still with 20 total legs. I'm ... tired.) Our apartment's a mess - but less of a mess than before, and the mess causes fewer problems than before. We're moving as soon as we clear a couple of consecutive weekends to finish our new-old place. I now cook most of the meals we eat at home (as opposed to before, when occasions on which I cooked were declared state holidays.) We're training for a marathon. I do believe we might be quietly out of our minds. But we're having fun!

One particularly rough patch we rode out together in '09 - not in our relationship, but in my family - was my Mom's diagnosis of esophogeal cancer. She was diagnosed in September with the very early stages and was hospitalized right away. She underwent major surgery, endured a lengthy hospital stay, and is now finishing her monthly in-patient chemotherapy treatments. My mom's pretty tough (as anyone who watched her raise us knows), but this was a trying time for all of us. Cub took all of the adjustments in stride, taking care of the animals and household without complaint when I was busy helping, visiting or sleeping over with my mom in the hospital. My mom is a very private person and insisted she have no visitors until she was out the hospital, which upset Cub because he felt very much like part of the family and didn't understand why he was being kept away, especially because he wasn't able to be with me during those tough visits. This is so different from me - I am not comfortable in hospitals with people who are not directly related to me (even then, my loquacious nature mysteriously flees me and I am a big awkward mumbling mess.) I would have gladly - nay, thankfully - obeyed anyone's wishes to stay away. But not Cub. Little by little, he chipped away at the ice, and let her, and all of us know (if we weren't already totally convinced) that he was here, and could be counted on to remain my rock. Five months later my mom is completely cancer-free (but will always be closely monitored by her doctors) ... and I'll always remember these months and the way Cub took on everything I had to drop, made sure I stayed healthy, and so fiercely just wanted to be there.

More recently: For the past couple of weeks we've been a one-car couple - not by choice, but it's challenged us to problem-solve in a tough situation without going at each other's throats. Ride sharing with friends, waking up absurdly early for one to drop off the other at work and still get to their own job on time, and sometimes just being life-giving and accepting the inconvenience so the other person can have a better day are all ways we're dealing with the infirmity of his truck.

Things we learned during our first year: 1) Sometimes things are yucky; fix them together. Or sit on a bench and mock things together. Or eat a pint of ice cream together. However you solve the problem, solve it together. (<--- Seriously difficult for me; my natural inclination is to take my problems to the corner and brood for a good long time.) 2) During a knock-down fight in the middle of a mini family staycation, do not get your car and leave, even for a few hours. Mostly because it makes your in-laws talk about you for months. 3) Sometimes it's okay to let him order a bacon cheeseburger, and sometimes it's okay to let her buy something you know she isn't going to wear. 4) Going to bed at the same time is important. It can't always be done, but it's best to try. 5) Some things may not seem important but are worth a heroic effort: listening to him talk about taking apart an engine, wording things in a way that appeases her mother, taking at least one picture of a happy moment, clarifying what was said before flying into an almighty rage. After this year of training, moving, and hopefully a mini honeymoon, we'll begin seriously planning to start a family. And on that overwhelming note, I need to go pack a lunch for my awesome husband, who is working OT this weekend for us.

Among a flood of other emotions right now, I'm filled with love for Cub.

All of us will be better than okay.

married or cohabitating couples survey

1) Have you ever created an actual written contract (even a napkin kept under a refrigerator magnet counts) after "getting something in writing" from your partner? (e.g. "I will stop leaving damp towels on the carpet" or "I will not keep take-out leftovers in the fridge for more than a week.")

2) Do you have (and keep to) a chore chart with household duties split equitably and posted in writing?

3) What issues, if any, are off-limits or closed to conversation?

but grandma!

We're finally dressing up this Halloween. Excited because I'm (sort of) getting my way on the literary character pairing: Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf.

Him: "But where are we gonna find you a wolf costume?"

:P

kkhh

Three things I love about my sweet Cub:

1) He turns off the TV/Xbox/computer when I get home, and we talk. This means the world to me.

2) He is always looking for ways to improve himself, and us as a couple.

3) He is darn cute.

That said ... I really need to b!tch right now. This is merely a rant, a rant. (Picture Mercutio laughing it off: "A scratch, a scratch.") <-- On second thought, that was right before he died of his "scratch" so nvm, don't picture that.

Last night we spent a few minutes planning tonight's date. Despite the fact that we went to see "GI Joe" last week (which I enjoyed, but it was definitely his pick), Cub tried for "D9" for tonight AND, after he asked where I wanted to eat and I replied Tenkaippin, he said, "How about pho?" I dislike pho and large-screen gore really bothers me (he knows both of these things), but the mother of all irritations happened after his insistence that I take an HPT this weekend because I have been "moody" and "eating a lot." If I have explained ovulation to him once I've explained it a thousand times, but he still seemed pretty convinced that a little zygote was responsible for my new and unattractive behavior.

So then. As we were getting ready for bed, he complained that the cat (my cat, the little old one) had crapped in her litterbox and that the smell was permeating the entire bedroom. (A definite exaggeration, but I moved to take care of it right away.) Here is a list of things I did while he tucked himself into bed:

- emptied the entire contents of the litter pan into a trash bag
- vacuumed the bathroom floor
- disinfected the bathroom floor with bleach
- hauled a 30-lb box of cat litter in from outside
- refilled the litter pan
- vacuumed some more and filled the canister to the very brim because I asked him a week ago to empty it.
- took the box of litter back outside. <-- at least it was lighter then

Now I know. Our mothers are not insane shrews who shriek at our fathers for nothing. Our mothers (all of whom are a million times the housekeeper I am) have shit to do so our homes do not fall down around our ears, and what they'd like is a little help.

This would be less annoying if he weren't so convinced that I'm pregnant. The man thinks I am pregnant, yet it's fine with him that I inhale noxious cleaning product fumes and carry heavy crap back and forth and clean out the litterbox at 11 p.m. (pg women aren't even supposed to scoop out the litterbox due to the ammonia.)

However, THE single most irritating thing about all of this is that I still have not worked out a way to tell him how ridiculous last night was. He asked me this morning, and I told him, but after he apologized and said he should have done the litter himself, it was more, "See? So moody. I bet you're pregnant." I have learned from Vickie (and from my other good friend, Past Experience) that to yell is to shoot myself in the damned_foot. But only if my aim is poor. Sometimes a woman needs to raise her voice.

All I know is, he's buying the HPT and we are so not eating pho on our date tonight.

Dumb Little Man says ...

$well

We sat down with Cub's financial advisor last night. Usually these things cause head-spinning and make me feel stupid, but I guess that's the difference between sitting down at 20, 25, and now at 30. Retirement means something at 30. (Discussing portfolios and IRAs made me wish it had meant something to me at 20 and 25, but as Jim put it yesterday, "You're well ahead of people in your age bracket who've given nary a thought to their futures." I'm not sure that a norm-referenced assessment of our financial health/attitude is the best way to approach this, but knowing that we don't suck the most, well, helps.)

My mom claims that when I was little, I thought money came out of machines. (Well, in a literal sense, it does, doesn't it?) Obviously I eventually figured out that first you need to strap some shoes on your feet and go out and earn it, but in a lot of ways, my money mind still functions at a very rudimentary level. 1) Bleep bleep bleep ... turn off alarm clock and go to work. 2) Get paid. 3) Pay taxes. 4) Put most of the rest in the bank. 5) Put some in pocket and go buy food because we need to eat or cute shoes because I want some.

Banks and I, we get along. It's concepts like mutual funds, money markets, CDs, TSAs, risk analysis, and 401Ks that take me a really long time to break down and digest. 1) Bleep bleep bleep ... turn off alarm clock and go to work. 2) Get paid. 3) Pay taxes. 4) Give my money to a guy in a suit so he can distribute x percent of it here, plant y percent of it there, put a little bit in stocks for sh!ts and giggles, and sit back and (hopefully) watch it grow into nice fat savings and/or retirement funds. You can't touch it till you need a hip replacement. And a mean troll of a recession could come and gobble up a lot of it with very little warning.

It's a nice feeling, though, the security that comes with knowing you're planning for something. ... God willing, we're gonna grow old together.

:)

in sickness and in health

Usually, we get sick one at a time.

You know, 'cause it's more convenient that way.

One of us catches something, the other spends a few days making tea, fetching water, heating up soup, walking the dog when it's actually the other person's turn, and babying the sickypie 'til all's well again.

This time? Holy inconvenience. We're dragging ourselves around the apartment, hacking, coughing, moaning and groaning. We used up the Zicam days ago. Now I'm chugging Robitussin in the car and he's offering me his codeine stash and we've gone through a quarter pound of li hing mui in less than 24 hours. No one has the energy to massage the muscles we abused yesterday. Pretty much all we have the strength to do is look at each other and say, "I wish we weren't sick."

Ah, togetherness.

the yin, the yang

Making pork chops again. It's a Blue Bayou recipe with cumin, coriander, and tons of black pepper. Memo to self: next time freeze chops individually, not in a big lump, which makes defrosting a PITA.

Cub finished the rice and is playing COD 5 as I cook, presumably because we're having a "sit-down" dinner tonight - meaning no Travel Channel hosts joining us for dinner, no Ghost Hunter re-runs. Just us.

Made a mental list of things I love about Cub ...

1) He is extremely fair.

2) He loves and takes care of our dog (and shields him from my wrath when I am at wit's end and am ready to toss him out the car window). He also takes care of the plants I insist on buying but sort of give up on when they refuse to thrive.

3) He is too busy living life to blog, tweet, or post photos on the internet about it. He leaves all that to me.

4) His cooking, at the end of the day, makes everything better.

5) He is order to my chaos.

6) He abandons any and all electronic devices after being called just once. Sometimes, he turns the Xbox off with nary a word from me. Amazing.

7) He's never glued to his phone, has never left the room to make or take a phone call.

8) He jives with my friends and I with his.

9) He works hard, is a quick learner, and is very reliable.

10) He loves me.

Things I'm not nuts about but have accepted about Cub ...

1) Not only is he too busy living life to post photos on the internet, but he never takes photos. Ever. I love taking photos and am glad to be the primary photographer in our relationship, but it would be nice to be in one or two pics that aren't arm-out or timer-set snaps. However for the most part I've gotten over my aversion to the timer and no longer feel stupid sticking a camera in a tree, for instance, and running back to my spot, or grabbing him in sankaku-jime to hold still for a photo. Because of me, our kids will have beautiful photo albums chronicling their lives as they grow up. Because of him, they probably won't care :P.

2) He is extremely fair. This belongs on the above list because obviously fairness is good. It belongs on this list because this fairness nearly eclipses any shred of chivalry he could possibly possess. The other day when we argued about whose car we should sell when it was time to get a CRV, and I had forced him to see that it didn't make sense to get rid of my Saturn in order to keep his beloved truck because in the event of a baby landing we'd still only have one vehicle that would hold it, he said fine, the truck could go. But then I'd have to park on the street half the time, instead of parking in the garage, ten steps from the door, 100 percent of the time as I do now. The sole reason the current arrangement exists at all is because I bought the apartment and was living here long before he was. Now, I will carry six loads of laundry to the door by myself, will change my own windshield wiper blades, and get elbow-deep in vermicast when it's time to harvest. But park my car a block and a half down the street every other week - big fat no thanks. When you come up with a way to make it sound okay that you made your wife walk home in the dark while you skipped to the door in ten steps, let me know.

3) He is order to my chaos. It's on the above list because balance is good. It's on this list because my creativity thrives on chaos and sometimes when he attempts to extinguish my chaos, it cramps my creativity.

4) He hates books. Okay, he doesn't hate books (I would not have married a book hater), he hates their presence all over the apartment. When we met, I kept books in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the bedroom, on the desk. Needless to say, they are now confined to shelves. Aside from PBS giveaways, books are the one thing I refuse to get rid of, and I hope this is something that he will eventually accept about me.

5) Lifestyle habits that are hard to break. Excessive snacking and bouts of insufficient exercise are things we're both guilty of. He's very outdoorsy and over the past two years I've become a big fan of the outdoor workout, but somehow, we can't get rid of our joeys and we have yet to stop, on a night out, at one or two beers (him) or half an order of fries (me). At least this one's something we clearly can work on together.

suuuuuure

Cubby: Want me to make pork chops for dinner?

Me: Yay!

Cubby: 'Kay, just grab a pack from Sam's and bring it home. Oh yeah, there's surf, so maybe you can start the rice. That way I can just cook up the chops when I get home from the beach.

Me: OK.

Cubby: If you want to chop some onions too, that'll make it quicker when I get home and start cooking.

Me: OK.

Cubby: And if you want to brown the chops in the pan before I get there so I can just put it in the oven when I get home, you can.

Me: So ... you want me to make pork chops for dinner?

Cubby: Yay!

:(

Cubby - sick. Feline child - incurably naughty. Abode - a woebegone mess. Ariadne, our Wandering Jew - suicidal.

:)

Bills - paid in full. ($10 & $25 promotional "cash" cards from favorite stores - in trash.) WiiFit slalom Beginner level - conquered. Abs and glutes - hurt SO good from J-class. Kona - spending the day with his daddy.

randomisms

A friend, on Friday: "So, how is it? Is married life for you?" From me, a resounding yes. We are only two months in and already I could write a book on how much work it takes to be truly happily married (sometimes we debate - is he that much of a drama queen or am I that much of a shrew?) but I wouldn't have this any other way.

...

Cubby, Saturday night while drifting off to sleep: "You know how some people have really hot wives, and some people have awesome wives who really love them? I was just thinking that I'm so lucky to have a package deal."

Of course the next morning he had no memory of saying such a thing, but :) anyway.

...

Our house is a mess. The kind where very soon it will be difficult to extricate anything we need from any given pile. Where, though, is the time to rectify this? (An ounce of prevention ... I've got to have a banner printed up.)

don't judge us by our bedtime

Last night as we drifted off to sleep in a sea of pillows, blankets, sheets and the huge wedding quilt my aunt made us (it's been chilly), we heard the left-side neighbors come home with their dog.

Cubby: "They were out late."

Cat: "Mmmmph."

Silence, as we both drifted back toward dreamland.

Cubby: "Well, actually ... maybe we're just in bed a little early."

Cat: "What is it, nine?"

Cubby: "Not quite."

window open

Teeniest chance that we could blitz up to my favorite place in the world (next to Disneyland) this summer. Mini-moon? We'll see.

cuz you know that you're toxic

Saying goodbye (sniff) to some Farberware pots and pans to make way for our new stuff. We got a 14-piece Kirkland set from Scott's sister, which I was really jazzed about, but my parents expressed concern over stuff they'd read about nonstick cookware and asked if we wanted to exchange it for All-Clad or maybe Calphalon. So I looked up anodized aluminum and it seems to be a safer alternative to Teflon, but the thought of all the dinners we cooked in Farberware Teflon pans is starting to sicken me ...

and for my next conjuring act ...

Reservations Not Required.

Mmmmmm.

:)

Apparently, once you hit 30 your goods are on display for everyone to see, reflect on, and discuss. Not that this bothers me, as I blog it all out there anyway - I was just surprised to hear of male coworkers giving each other advice on OPKs, folic acid and The Baby Dance. The XXs at the NSY have chimed in, to be sure, but who knew the XYs were so opinionated?

a reprieve from KP

The BF made ahi - Susie's Black style for him (teriyaki sauce); garlic and pepper, well-done, for me. He was in charge of the asparagus tonight, and he made it completely different than I'd instructed him to. While heavy on the balsamic vin, it wasn't a bad variation. And I wonder if the balsamic had anything to do with the fact that this, for once, didn't happen.

BF fell asleep in the middle of Ghost Hunters, so I sent him to bed, and now I have the couch to myself. Howling wind, raspberry herbal tea, The Lost Continent, and snoring husband tucked in tight.

:)

hey mama, welcome to the '50s

I'm no June Cleaver (one checkered apron and a permi-smile short) but am tickled to report that I now cook dinner on a semi-regular basis - without flogging myself when things don't come out as planned. Go with the FLOW, I say. Let creativity reign! (It's much nicer than saying what I actually think: Eat it or beat it, suckers.)

I've also taken to making Scott's workday lunches, which (at his insistence) is invariably a turkey pastrami sandwich and a big Romaine salad. (Well, 'salad' is a generous description of what it actually is: a big GladWare container of chopped lettuce.)

A couple of weeks ago my cousins gave us a bag of School Kine Cookies, bite-sized chocolate chip shortbread yummies that I knew I had to hide if I expected them to last more than a couple of days. I put a few in his lunch every day and hide whatever's left. This morning, as he kissed me goodbye before leaving for work, he told me that the guys at work see the cookies as a barometer of our relationship's health. "When I only get three, they ask me what I did wrong last night," he said.

LOL.

and on the 52nd day, she blogged

Fifty-two days in. The Day was beautiful - some parts were a blur, but I remember three things with amazing clarity: 1) his smile as I met him at the altar, 2) how surprisingly overcome I was at the statement of intentions (maybe the only time in my entire life I've been rendered speechless), and 3) how bouyant I felt all day. For lack of a better description, I felt like people were carrying us around on their shoulders, or on chairs like in a Jewish Hora. The outpouring of love was immense. We didn't think many people would come to the actual wedding ceremony, and we were cool with that. As long as our close family was at the church, everyone could show up to party at the reception and that would have been awesome. But so many people came to the church, and it reminded us how blessed we are to have all of these people in our lives.

People have asked us how things have changed since and it takes serious thought before coming up with anything, really, since we lived together for so long before taking the plunge. (And that word, 'plunge,' that's a stretch - it's more of a gentle wade-in, I'd say, because 'plunge' implies high-risk behavior, the outcome of which is more uncertain than anything else.) Things have changed, though. I feel ... sewn-in now. As a semi-claustrophobe in matters of elevators and the heart, I'm surprised at how much serenity this brings. He is not the one that so many years ago I would ever have imagined loving, let alone marrying. He's not the one that I expected to love me. He's not the one I expected to date for more than a month. He is just, the one.

These 52 days have been filled with love (praise God!), relief (that we'll never have to plan another wedding, ever), adjustment (to weird schedules, changing roles, new names), friction (from surprising sources, like shrimp skewers and gondolas), and laughter (always). His new job has been the catalyst of many changes - like our new wake-up call (3:30 a.m.) and my experimental new role as household cook. Many more changes are on the horizon, but for now, I'm enjoying the time we spend together.

This might be the only entry of its kind (deeply reflective and slightly smushy) in this blog. Really I just wanted a new space to jot a few daily thoughts on married life - e.g. Am I becoming the primary household cook, and if so, how do I stop that from happening feel about that?; The great sandwich conundrum; Budget woes ... etc. I did create a profile at thenest.com but quickly abandoned it because 1) it's too "we-centric" for my liking and 2) the discussion boards are way too cliquey; frankly, it is very easy for me to jump on a Snark Bandwagon and I just don't need that much negativity in my daily weblife.

So. Marriedness blog. Here we are. :)