Married Life- One Month In

Married life continues to be wonderful. One issue that has been interesting, however, is the non-verbal communicado. Take, for example the note I came home to the other day. It was on our super ghetto breadbox, which was housing some delicious lemon poppy-seed bread that the cookander-in-chief made. The note said "Do not lift unless you can kill it."

That's all. Nothing else. The way I see it, that note could be interpreted two different ways:

1. In a metaphorical sense, Caity is sick of me nibbling on the bread, destroying its beautiful shape and refusing to cut off pieces when I eat it. The note could be subtly telling me that if I'm going to eat one piece, I'd better eat the entire thing. To 'kill it' if you will. If that is the case, then it is definitely indicative of a much deeper issue. Clearly, Caity takes issue with my inability to finish what I start. She probably sits at home all day wondering if I'm ever going to repair the fridge so we don't have to eat out of ice chests anymore, or if I'm ever going to finish what I started with taking the trash ALL the way out and not just to the back door for the coyotes to finish. If that is the case, the note is a sign of a much, much deeper issue in our young marriage. A part of me feels like I should take about it with her, and a part of me says "Keep everything to yourself in your wedded life."
2. In a literal sense, she could be implying that there's something menacing under or in the breadbox.  Something that must be killed. What could it be? Whatever it was was so terrifying that she didn't even have time to warn me of it's nature, just that it's life needed to cease. A ghost? A snake? A cricket? A feral wolf? 

Well, eventually I decided that as Caity wasn't going to be home for a few hours and whatever was under or in that breadbox was nibbling at my food, so it was time to take action. I Googled "What hides in a breadbox?" but all the results were Pinterest links to children's games involving hiding paper dolls in breadboxes. I tried to resist, but since I was alone at my computer after dark I ended up giving in and looking at kids' Pinterest ideas for an hour. There are some REALLY cute pinwheel ideas that fit perfectly in a breadbox. But then, then, that's when I buckled down. I got the fire extinguisher in one hand and a baseball bat in the other and approached the kitchen. It was dark. I opted against turning the light on because I've found that wielding a baseball bat is way more fun in the dark. I approached the breadbox, ready to either completely annihilate a fire-breathing dragon or entirely eat the rest of the nibbled bread. I opened the lid. Nothing. I lifted the box up. A baby cricket was there, trapped underneath the box. I killed him. I'm pretty sure that's what the note was about. It was not the sign of a deeper communication issue. It was not a feral wolf. It was just a cricket, which Caity hates more than death. Problem solved. The problem of the cricked, anyway. The problem of the non-verbal communication still remains.

PS- As always, the vast majority of this is hyperbole. We don't have any communication issues and no one gave me that wedding advice in the second paragraph. We're doing juuuuust great. :)

Married Life- Three Weeks In

Well, The Lovely Mrs. Holla Atchya and I were wed three weeks ago in a blissful ceremony atop Belmont's highest hill. Everything went perfectly and as it was supposed to. We really wouldn't have changed a dang thing. If you want to see a preview of the pictures to come, you can check out this Facebook link.
They say that marriage is an adjustment, and even more so for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) who don't co-habitat before marriage. Now that I've been married for the entirety of my adult, married life, I can say the adjustment hasn't been too bad. It could be that Caity and I spent ample amounts of time together before we wed- doing virtually everything together except going to bed- or the fact that we're both pretty easygoing, un-phased people, but the adjustment has hardly been one at all. I can honestly say that the only differences to married life have been fantastic ones! Granted we have a little bit of a unique life right now- neither of us are working or looking very hard for work. It's hard NOT to enjoy life when you're newlywed and enjoying a two month Summer break. I have learned a few things about marriage though, and I'd like to share them for posterity's sake:

• Pick your side of the bed wisely, for it will not change. Many a married couple can attest to this fact. I sleep on the right side of our bed. I'm not sure how it even started; I'm not sure if it was by assignment, lottery, default, process of elimination, or choice, but I am forever destined to the right side of the bed. One night while Caity was brushing her teeth I sneaked under the covers on the left side of the bed, and almost immediately thereafter a thunderstorm rolled in and caught our indoor fern on fire. There is no plausible explanation how the lightening could have caught the plant in our living room on fire except that I experimented with the other side of the bed. Never again.
• You won't sleep as well for the first few months of your marriage because it's a big change sharing a bed with someone. This one has turned out to be absolutely true. In order to cut on some costs of furnishing a new house, we made the decision that we wouldn't get a new bed. It's just so expensive buying a frame and mattress and bed spread and sheets and the like. Instead, we've just been sharing the twin bed that my previous roommate left when he moved out. We trucked it over to the new house and have been sleeping on it together. When I slept on it by myself my toes- 6 feet and 2 inches away from the headboard- hung over the edge. Now, with two of us, my right arm, toes, and bellybutton all hang off the edge on any given night. It's impossible to tell anything from your spouse's body language while you're going to bed because it's the same sort of crammed, fetal position every night. So yes, that little factoid is true- you definitely don't sleep as well after marriage.
• Marriage matures you. This bit of advice is also true. Since being married I've sold my motorcycle (true, actually), wised up on my sodium intake, and become a much more budgeted chopper. I used to cut celery and carrots completely sporadically, but since getting married and settling down a little I now realize the importance of keeping my ten fingers intact and chop with much greater awareness. I've grown-up a little in the area of cleanliness, too. No one wants a messy spouse. I've started by dusting the entire house. That sort of backfired on me when I dusted Caity's 10,000 piece puzzle, which she had already split up into 150 different groupings by color. My duster mixed them all together, which apparently she didn't like. Another cleaning goal I've had has been to always vacuum the living room carpet after I've walked on it. Caity thinks this is excessive, but I just keep telling her that marriage has matured me and I need to stop being a sloppy bachelor. She was particularly upset with me when I vacuumed after she laid out all her pearls on the living room floor to string them. I thought they were just old, perfectly round seashells that got left over when we emptied the beachbag on her ball gown! By the time she came back in the living room after getting a sip of lemonade I had already emptied the vacuum bag down the disposal (I find that much more sanitary than throwing it in the icky trash can) and turned it on. Needless to say she has NOT been pleased with my maturation process.

Yep, marriage has been great. It's had its few surprises, but with three weeks under my belt it's already had a profoundly positive affect on my life. I'd highly recommend it to anyone!

The Gym

For the past three months I have decided I want to be in the best physical shape of my life. After much deliberation I have decided that shape is an octagon. They're simple, easy to draw, and have the same number of sides as my favorite number. Frankly I'm having a hard time thinking of any reason I wouldn't want to be octagonal. But, God had a different plan for me, so here I am in a human shape.  

I have three beach vacations including a honeymoon this Summer and I want to look my best. Another reason for my sudden gym habits is that I got a gym membership. I have noticed a direct, very strong positive correlation between having a gym membership and visiting a gym. I don't know if this could be considered ironic or not, but when I didn't have a membership I went exactly zero times.

There are a lot of ways to work out. There are a lot of ways to work in too. They are not the same, however. When I Googled 'Work-in' the following picture showed up. That is very different from what I have been doing for the past three months. Working out requires similar apparel, but different in one key area: color. My suit has been red, not white. Entirely different. I have no idea what those people are doing in their white suits and I'm questioning if they really are working in or not. But back to working out. The gym is full of interesting characters. There's David, who works out in a wife beater. Everyone wonders why he doesn't just put a dang shirt on. Then there's Daved, who only wants to use a machine while someone is currently using it. He always says weird things like "Hey, is that a 50lb dumbell in your left hand there? Yea, I didn't see it over on the rack. You aren't using it are you? Thanks" as he rips it out of your clenched hand mid repetition.

By far the weirdest guy at the gym is Davad. Even the way he spells his name is whack. Davad seems like a nice guy except that he's always watching cartoons on the television. It's definitely not normal for a man of 28 or however old he is. One time I even asked him, "Excuse me sir, do you mind if I put the baseball game on?" and he told me as soon as "Pony Adventure Time with Nelly" was over we could. I was appeased at this until I learned that it was a "Pony Adventure Time with Nelly" marathon without commercial breaks. For a full hour I had to endure watching animated Nelly braid a horse tail using chop sticks. 

One of the more friendly regulars at the gym is Dave. Dave's a good guy, but he doesn't stop talking. On Monday he came up to me and asked how my weekend was. I told him it was good. He then launched into a 45 minute speech about how he tried to host a barbecue on Saturday but he was out of catsup so he asked his neighbor for some but his neighbor thought he said 'catnip' and brought some of the latter to the barbecue. By telling me this story he effectively launched himself into a one-sided debate about wet and dry cat food, neither of which I have any interest in, even when I'm not working out. Every time I tried to leave to use a machine he would follow me and ask questions like "Do you prefer tuna in oil or tuna in water for a hypoallergenic cat?"

And then there's Devid. Devid is the grunter. Seriously, if you thought the Williams sisters were bad, you should hear Devid. He doesn't even need to be doing anything strenuous to grunt. He grunts while he gets a drink of water, which usually results in "Say it don't spray it" situation. Devid grunts when he walks into the gym. He grunts when he says "Hi" to me. He grunts when he writes his lifting numbers down. And he grunts when he looks up at the clock. Devid also likes to workout by lifting large boulders and throwing them. Devid is a caveman. 

And finally there's Dived. I think his name might actually be David, but he's British and when he says his name it sounds like Dived. Dived is a fun guy to have at the gym, except that I don't think he knows the difference between a weightlifting gym and a basketball gym. Dived brings his basketball to the weightlifting gym every day and dribbles it around. Several people have asked him to please stop but he says "This is America right? Free country! I think I'm allowed to play basketball in a gym!" He slam dunks on the pull up bar, even while others are using it. He posts up against the weight rack, even though it never tries to block his shot. His worst offense, however, is when he tries to call out captains to make teams. I can't even tell you how many times I've had to tell him that I'm in there to lift weights, not play basketball. Crazy Brit.