From Single To Married

I guess this is supposed to be the blog where I introduce myself, give a brief history, list my goals and reasons for this blog and generally try to be interesting enough that you might come back once every year of the rat and validate my blogging world with a comment or two.

Well, I'm me, I've lived a couple decades or so, my goal is to ramble, and I started it because I wanted to.

I never was good at formalities.

I'm married. Just recently. As in, that mystery "leftover" that has been living in the back left corner of your fridge in the tupeware with the missing top, so you wraped it in 12 feet of plastic wrap and cut yourself on the sharp edge of the plastic wrap box, causing you to curse not only the manufacturer, but also his (or her, we are equal opportunity on this blog) mother, dog and the dog's fleas, that leftover has probably been scaring away hungry scavengers longer than I've been married.

When little girls play dress up in anything white, watch every disney princess known to man, and practice a kind of march that if done in any normal public setting would have you classified as either a stroke victim or "special," they are typically dreaming of prince charming. As we all know, Prince Charming is generally European, about 6'1", has dark hair, blue eyes, and dimples. He wears pressed pants, shining shoes, and pom-poms on the shoulder of his shirts. Oh, and he rides a horse. A white horse. At least, that is what most little girls picture when they line up their stuffed animals to witness the wedding of the century.

I've got news for you. Prince Charming is allergic to horses, is 5' 11", has brown (well, more honey-colored) eyes, a goatee, and wears carhartts and hiking boots. He also carries a knife and leatherman on his hip.

Reality is so much better than fiction.