Tuesday, August 14, 2007


If I were hatefully cute, I would sprightfully announce that today is the monthiversary of my marriage. Happy monthi-- oh, oh, not in even in irony. I can't be That Person. I will simply have to settle for being hateful and cute in a separate manner.

Today we celebrated by vacuuming drywall dust and discussing the habits and growth patterns of poison ivy. This was triggered when Josh The Pilot attacked our .00000000000001 acre backyard, which was overgrown to the point where when we opened the patio door, the back yard would suddenly spring, with great abundance, inside the house.

It appears that what we thought was just an audaciously tall weed is in fact an actual tree in some sort of pot, and the mass of shiny vines around that pot? Poison ivy. It had leaves that would choke Willie Nelson.

We're still dealing with the realization that we are now permitted to go about our daily lives without attaching so much Knot-approved, photographable-moment significance to everything. The day of the rehearsal dinner, Josh and I sat side by side on my parents' couch, not getting ready to leave for the church. "I know," said Josh, "that once we get up off this couch, we're going to take showers, and leave for the rehearsal dinner, and from then on everything is going to change." Normally life just kind of glacially drifts along wrapped in padding of one reheated lunch, one email at a time, and here was one of those true crossroads, bridge-leap moments, wherein we could have definitively decided to take our lives in one direction or another.

We got off the couch.

There was nothing on TV but Reba, anyway.

Two weeks later I hung one of my new husband's polo shirts in the closet. He has owned this shirt since we started dating. He has owned this shirt since Bob and Delores Hope started dating, but now it was my husband's shirt, in our closet.

Perhaps this is why newlyweds are so exhausted all the time. It's not the sex. It's that everything is so... fraught all the time, with meaning, with grasping, with drywall dust.

anyway at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com


red pill junkie said...

Well, have a happy monthiversary anyway (man, where does time go??)

Wo what does that amount to? 75 years is diamond, 50: gold, 25 : silver. So what do spouses give each other after a month?

What about THIS?


That would be fun! ;-)

Anonymous said...

It's only fraught with so much meaning if you decide to make it so. Don't overthink it.

tamar said...

Still Love, Love, Love your dress!!! :)

Congrats again!

Anonymous said...

I'm grateful to have your column to prepare me for my own nuptials (one month from today! just an hour north of your beloved cincy!). My best friend went through a similar period after her own wedding - having to accept that even though things haven't REALLY changed, it FEELS different. Just wanted to let you know your openness is appreciated AND you are not the only bride-post-wedding who has had these types of thoughts!

Anonymous said...

Yes it's exhausting, but the sex makes it worth it, too ;)

mike's big day is saturday said...

Perhaps this is why newlyweds are so exhausted all the time. It's not the sex.

You know, I would make a comment here, but I think rpj pretty much went to Theresville, driving right down Ohnohedidnt Boulevard.

(And my big day is my 10-year high school reunion. You didn't think . . . ? Haha, fooled you.)

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