The Two-Month Mark

Wow. I've had a husband for two months. Wow.

A friend and I were talking earlier today, and she asked me if it felt like a long time, or if it felt like it went by quickly. I was stumped. Sometimes, due to the fact that we've settled into a routine, it seems like we've been together forever---in a good way, no major fights or even any bickering. We're pretty comfy, and tend to spend most evenings watching Smallville and attempting to tame our wild Iguana.

But then, sometimes I wake up and my knee-jerk reaction is "Where am I?" and "Who is this man?" ...and after about a .9 seconds I remember and I'm all happy and stuff.

So far we've had a couple major adventures: Like the other night when I suddenly decided that I wanted peaches, and Eric actually went out with me at ten o'clock at night to buy some; for some reason I convinced myself that someone was going to try to kill us on the way home, and proceeded to warn him anytime a car behind us got too close ("They're following us!") or remind him that we still had watch out as we walked from the driveway to the house. You never can be too careful. Another fascinating episode was the Case of the Feminist Social Security worker, who took the liberty of informing me that it was my choice to change my surname, and if I wanted to keep-or hyphenate-my maiden name, it was socially acceptable. The boy said we should go back and ask her if I can change my full name to Drazin Drazin Drazin. I opted for the normal option and retained my first name, which he afterwards concluded was the best way after all. (He likes my name).

We have also attempted to give George the Iguana a bath. That was by far the most dramatic episode of our story so far.

I don't quite remember the point of this post, but Happy Two Months, husband. I love you.