I thank you for putting up with the constant bombardment of monthly emails. They have been described by readers as: "...kind of fun." -Uncle Royd, "...absolutely hilarious." -Sarah Monroe, "...cute, like the letters Mom's send out at Christmas time." -Angela Sumsion, "...no way I'm reading a form letter that long." -Shakey Bingham. I appreciate all comments, questions and criticisms*. Since this is the closest thing to a journal I have I'll keep sending it out. If you would like to be removed from my email list, or if you know of anyone else who might benefit from this service, make me aware accordingly.
By the way in order to avoid confusion as to why this "on the john" jumped from 1.6 to 2.1. This number designates the year that I've been sending these and the number in that year. Hence this is the 1st letter of the second year. Even though this is the 6th year I've been doing this, I didn't start calling them "on the john" until early last year.
I've been married for a month and change. It's really cool. A learning experience. I've decided that marriage is kind of like eating a salad in the dark. Have you ever tried this? It's interesting; I suggest one of those ultra delicious salads from Nordstrom’s or perhaps Cafe Rio, something really good with lots of ingredients. I had the “pear blue cheese salad” from Nordstrom’s that my wife lovingly brought home for me from work. We were driving out to Ogden and I was eating it in the car. It was nighttime, and due to the irritation the dome light presents, my wife requested I eat it in the dark. I had never realized it before, and maybe I'm alone on this, but when I eat something very complex (like a salad) I'm very conscious of what exactly is going into my mouth at any giving time during consumption. I couldn't see though, so I wasn't quite aware of what was on my fork. I'm not quite sure of what exactly the salad's ingredients are, I have a rough idea, and so I begin to eat. (This is the point were you start to apply this analogy to marriage so I don't have to spend another paragraph explaining it, if you don't like it, think I'm stupid, or are a Tampa bay Buccaneers fan** then see the last sentence of paragraph one) Back to the salad… Things are going fine, munching lettuce, cabbage and a carrot shavings, and then all the sudden on my next bite, KA-BAM I bite into a cherry tomato, an explosion of juices send a little dribble over my lip and down the side of my chin. I wasn't quite prepared for that fruit/vegitable, it caught me off guard, got a little messy. No worries though, I wipe my chin and move on. A few fork fulls later I end up with eight chunks of blue cheese in one bite. Not to mention the overwhelming moldy cheese flavor burst, it turns into a slow moving paste that I must trudge through to swallow. The very next bite was two pear pieces, some lettuce and just the right amount of dressing... Mmm, so choice. The meal continues and for the most part it is a magnificent treat. Every once in a while I get a pecan, I like pecans, but when I'm expecting a pear its kind of unpleasant. (like that time Adam always talks about where he thought he was taking a sip of someone's lemonade and it ended up being coke... ugh) The salad as a whole is beyond delicious, it just has a few surprises here and there. So, there’s a sage analogy from a man who's been married for a little over a month.
As for specifics of our marriage:
I own 47 T-shirts, 26 full pairs of underwear. The reason for this clothing glutton is my super sloth attitude. Living on my own for five years I learned to loathe laundry. So I acquired as many articles of clothing as possible, as to do the least amount of laundry. I could go 3 months and only have to wash 3 loads of underwear. Luckily for me the Neanderthalism is no more... My wife loves to do laundry. (I love to mow the lawn... aren't we domestic?)
Since we have decided not to take birthing precautions, the subject of naming our children comes up from time to time. In one such instant she expressed her desire to name one of our daughters Olivia... I don't like the name because of Fat Fat Olivia Brown from 3rd grade***. So we made a deal that if I let her name our daughter Olivia she'll let me name our son Yoda. Of course we are still in talks, and may not decide on either of these.
Our social life hasn't ended; I thought that’s what happened to married people, that’s not it though. My social life has expanded. See, before when I was a swinging bachelor, all I really cared about was girls. Sure my guy friends were important, but only because we unitedly sought out girls. Every night I spent in my pursuit of girls. Now I have the girl. Hanging out with my single friends is still fun, but I can't help but feel sort of outcast. Not because they don't love me anymore, I simply don't fit into the "single life" agenda any longer. They don't know it, and don't mean it, but they treat us married folk a little differently. If you can't flirt with them or can't flirt for them you don't fit into their agenda. (So far the few excluded from this are Adam, Alan, and Kevin) I think this is why most marrieds flee the single scene like crazy. However Lara and I still love to hang out.
The problem is all the sudden we have to spread ourselves within our new spheres of existence. Now our married friends want to hang out with us more, were part of a new ward and our ward wants to get to know us, and suddenly our families want to get in a little social time. That’s four groups of people, if I only spend one day a week with each I find I have 3 days left with my new wife, and that’s if there is nothing else going on. For example, went and saw a movie with single friends Friday, went and played games with married friends Saturday, spent time with family Sunday, and having family home evening with bishop tonight. The cool thing about it is you find out who your friends really are.
Well, it took me more than five alligators to scroll to the top of this email so I think I'll forbear for a time. Marriage is rad, it really is. I never realized seriously how great it would be, and every day I think to myself there is no way I can love this person anymore. Then she'll go and make me popcorn while I'm watching "The Justice League" on Saturday, just because. And I fall even further. Thanks for reading, hopefully you'll write or call or in passing give me a peek into your life and times. Later
*An exception to this rule, don't criticize my grammar or spelling
please. I'm not very good at spelling, or grammar. Just ask my mom
about the time I humiliated myself by cheating on all my spelling
tests in fifth grade and because of that i went to the state spelling
B and got out on my first word. (I still spell edjucation with a "J" to
this day) besides, it's not nice to point out dangling participles when "on the john".
**After watching my favorite team, the Philadelphia Eagles, bend over backwards and be humiliatingly defeated By the Bucs yesterday, I hate the Buccaneers and their fans. This hatred will go away after I cry myself to sleep tonight... again, and then we can still be friends. (This includes you Mr. Lehman)
***Olivia Brown wasn't even fat, but she ate her own boogers and her mom came to school once in a bikini... uuuuugh, one of my worst childhood memories.