Tuesday, October 8, 2013

The Life of A Wife

Man, I'm behind. And several of my good, old loyal followers let me know it in the last few weeks.


Believe it or not, it finally happened. The Man proposed and after 10 months of stressing and planning, we are now husband and wife.

The day was perfect. And if it wasn't, I don't want to know about it.

In my usual form, I requested we break from tradition. Imagine that. So we wrote our own vows.

Standing under the sun and the beautifully handcrafted alter made by The Man and His Dad, I poured my heart out. After pledging to be his equal and stand by his decisions, no matter how dumb - or something like that, and to make sure warm meals were always in his belly, I wrapped it up.

"I promise to always do half of the laundry. But I vow to always fully love you. You’ve helped me vow to be the best parts of me that fit perfectly with the best parts of you."

And somewhere in there was a promise The Man will never let me forget.

After giving him one of my friendly text message reminders of why he married me, it was met with, "and for pizza, which I haven't gotten yet."

Pizza? I don't recall anything about pizza.

But it was too late. I was hosed, like Davey.

In my googley eyed, love struck state of mind, I had promised to make him his beloved homemade pizza, several times a month in fact.

Damn that love thing.

It might be what makes a Subaru a Subaru but it's also what will have me stuck in the kitchen.

Following the matching of just half of his socks, you can find me at mixer.

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