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.

Nerve-wracked

I'm photographing my former music teacher's wedding today. They're old friends of the family (played music for both mine and my parents' weddings) and now they're tying the knot!

I am so nervous. I'm more nervous than I was about getting married.

Wedding memories are pretty much a lifetime thing, and the thought of managing to capture them all without missing a beat is making me a tad uneasy.

(I hate the picture above, but it accurately describes this morning's mood)

Pain vs. Discomfort.

Before I begin this tirade, I will redefine, for the sake of my argument, one of my subjects: By discomfort, I do not mean the type that your doctor or dentist will use to describe a feeling you may have as a result of a procedure they are about to perform on you (often used interchangeably with the word "pressure"); that feeling is actually "pain," the other subject of my argument.

I submit that pain is most often better than discomfort.
"What?" you say, "Blasphemous!" you say, and perhaps I am being a tad twisted (I have been known to laugh through a charlie horse or two), but here's the reasoning of this:
The single sharp sensation derived from being poked by a pin could never compare to the constant annoyance factor of a too-tight waistband or a pair of shoes that aren't exactly too tight, but chafe just enough to make themselves a nuisance. I would rather deal with a headache than the uncomfortable sensation of being stuck to a leather couch on a hot day. The marked contrast between these feelings is two-fold:

1. Ability to concentrate on the task at hand. When one is in pain, pain becomes the task. With an enormous toothache or a throbbing cut on one's finger, other things are irrelevant and inconsequential, affording your full attention and ability to the ordeal you are currently suffering through. On the other hand, to be uncomfortable is only a distraction from something that is important and must be done. Recall, if you will, the last time you had a ball of sweat rolling down your forehead or a stray hair tickling your neck while your hands and shoulders were otherwise occupied. A nagging sneeze or plugged ear is distracting, but does not require the immediacy of response that an open wound would afford. Therefore, you must continue with your task in a state of mind that is, in some ways, rather tortuous... as you cannot give your task your full attention, but cannot drop your task to see to your annoyance. Which brings me to,
2. Ability to complain or avoid work. A painful stomach flu gives you every opportunity to evoke the sympathy of others while meanwhile diverting any chance of manual labor---whereas complaining about or drawing attention the fact that you um..have an uncomfortable wedgie is completely out of the question.* A well-deserved pity-party over something that is causing you obvious pain is almost always joined into by your friends and family, whereas any frustration expressed over a slight--but looming--discomfort makes you seem like a baby.
   

Do you see what I mean?

Now to see if I'm crazy...
Your turn:
Given a choice (and fully understanding the variables at hand) which would you choose,

Minor Pain or Major Discomfort?

*as a side note, I have found that, often, the most uncomfortable things are also the most embarrassing things

Pondering Placing Poetry (here)

I wonder if this little blog could handle some of my ridiculously bad free-verse. It might even be angsty.

Somehow, I think that would fulfill multiple blog stereotypes and shoot me directly back to fifteen years old on the maturity scale.

**pondering continues**

I'll post my verdict soon.

Our Life

(with apologies that the picture quality makes it look like a third-world country)

Time to Say Things

First of all: Pictures of the apartment are coming, but I'm having a little trouble keeping every inch of the apartment clean, therefore I'm having to take pictures intermittently at various "angles" so as to obscure a pile of (clean) laundry here, or some unwrapped appliances there. It's testing me to my creative core.


Also: Since it's becoming old news before it was any news, Eric and I are the proud owners of an Iguana named George. He's an eensy, weensy, teensy bit of scaley cuteness and we pretty much love him. Pictures of him pending as well. We're actually not sure of his gender, but - as you can tell- we've contented ourselves with assuming his maleness.


On my mind lately is what sort of art to hang up in our little apartment. As of right now, we have several of Eric's movie posters in the living room, including this amazing and GIGANTIC Creature from the Black Lagoon:

But except for that awesomeness, our walls are pretty bare.

Now, I'm a sucker for Art Deco and Art Nouveau-type things:
But I'm thinking it won't quite work for our "theme," which is a psuedo-retro monstrousity that has taken on a life of its own and defies me at every turn!

It's all very dramatic.

Ideas?

MARRIED!

(Our photographer is lovely)

I really can hardly believe it, everything was amazing, the honeymoon was great, and now it's back to reality... which is rawther nice too.


And here's the thing of it: My button on the time-clock at work now says "Mallory Drazin"

Très cool.