Honeymoon

Hiking along the windy coast. Evenings in front of a fire. Eco-friendly Inn. Breakfast elves tapping on the door in the wee hours of the morn'. Post-fire-making splinter removal. How much organic bath gel does it take to make bubbles seep through the open windows? Kissing on the cliff. Peeing in the woods. More bath gel.

The only thing better than gallivanting nude in the privacy of your own room: gallivanting nude in the common areas of a B&B while sucking on complementary red vines from the mini bar.

Red Vines.

Champagne.

Streaking.

Love.

Lazy Sunday

Homemade Sangria. The smell of clean towels. Rice crackers. Naps. More Sangria.

My favorite day of the week.

Lately

I've been feeling very housewife-y these past few weeks. We finally moved into our new place. Boxes are (mostly) unpacked. New puppy. New neighborhood. New patio foliage to kill. I find myself spending hours talking in baby voices to The Zeld, inspecting spots on the carpet, and producing culinary experiments out of oversized zucchini.

The older I get, the less I know what it is that I want to be when I grow up. I've changed my mind so many times, now when people ask me when I'll be done with school I tell them never. I'm teetering on the brink of professional student and professional underachiever. Independent Filmmaker. Social Worker. Law Student. Starving Novelist. Not-so Starving Humor Writer. I could fill pages with this stuff.

I want a house with brightly painted walls. A garden. My good kitchen knives. The ability the thread my sewing machine. An unlimited supply of wine. HBO. My husband. My dog.

I could totally pull-off the whole puppy pee coated, 11 am Martini making, crazy-haired housewife thing.

photo from the flickr commons

Crazy Bride, Goofy Groom

Photos by you know who

Details

Photos by Joey Bloom

Zelda

I've been MIA lately. I'm too busy chasing a diaper-less toddler around my apartment.

Parenthood. There's nothing quite as sweet as puppy breath or that sneak attack of turds on the living room carpet.

married life is a lot like unmarried life

I still have to trick/bribe/threaten him to do chores. His snoring still isn't "cute". Bedtime still teeters between 8 and 9pm.

But, over these past few weeks I have noticed differences. People call me Mrs. now. It's a little creepy. The expression, "Don't make me go Snapped on your ass" escapes my lips more frequently during petty arguments. Sometimes I mean it. We watch a lot more Jeopardy. At first I thought Nick was just doing it to spite me, but now I see he really enjoys the show. There's something about being a husband that requires men to obnoxiously shout out answers then heckle the t.v. when contestants get them wrong.

For example, the other day we were watching Kids Week when one of the pre-teens blurted out the wrong answer to a fairly simple question. Staying true to fashion, Nick threw his arms up in the air and bellowed, "Oh. My. GOD. That was soooooo easy! I knew the answer to that. I did. What an idiot!"

"Sweetie, he's 12."

"He's a MORON."


I guess you could say married life is pretty sweet.


Image via FFFFOUND!

ummm...

Love it.

Ceremony

I rushed down the aisle with giddy anticipation- flailing my arms and giggling along the way. Quiet composure was beyond me. A poem. Tears. Eager vows. Even a stumble or two on our way back up the sand dunes. The Oregon beach never looked so good.

Photos by Joey Bloom

My Advice

Head on over to A Practical Wedding to see yours truly featured as one of the newest Wedding Graduates. I'm almost too giddy to type.


Photo by Joey Bloom

Getting Ready

At the beach house. Nick had the bottom floor. I had the top. Downstairs was a fiesta. Ties were straightened. Last minute pow-wows with the officiant were had. Liquor, chuckles, and even a polish dog or two.

Upstairs I sat anxiously in my cave, wringing my hands and waiting for the big reveal. Wedding blogs don't prepare you for this. Amongst the buzz of hectic day-of preparations, my frantic pleas could be heard echoing down the stairwell.

"Can somebody bring me some whiskey? I need a shot, dammit!"


Photos by Joey Bloom