Archives for posts with tag: Love

My wife and I got married because we love each other. We got married because that seemed like the next step in life. We got married because we could. (Thank you Iowa and Minnesota) Like a good modern couple the cohabitating, dog adopting, and mortgage came before the marriage. The wedding felt like a mere formality. An excuse to have a party. We didn’t think it would change much.

But it did. It changed something huge and intangible.

We aren’t dating any more. She isn’t my girlfriend. We are married. She is my spouse. She is my wife. These are words society at large understands. We don’t have to explain that our partnership is deep and true and real, these words do it for us.

Also being married got us a post on A Bicycle Built for Two. That’s kinda fun.

I love this girl.



Louie CK hosted Saturday Night Live this weekend. His comedy has always had a spiritual, compassionate lean. He pokes at the deepest parts of our psyche, at the darkest bits of humanity. By poking us there and getting us to laugh he plants these thoughts in our head. Maybe I should give a damn about other humans? Maybe I do take myself too seriously? Do yourself a favor and watch the monologue. You’ll be a better person for it:

Do yourself a favor and watch the monologue. You’ll be a better person for it:

Louie CK Monologue

There. You’re a better person. Boom.

Anyways, what I’m really here to talk about is the Kate Mckinnon and Aidy Bryant skit:


These ladies have quickly risen to their rightful status as two of the brightest stars on SNL. Maybe some of the best they’ve had in years. One of their strengths, as writers and sketch actors, is knowing who they are and who they represent. Instead of fighting their labels, claiming they are not the token lesbian and token average girl in the cast, they own it.

Watch and giggle:Dyke and Fats

Like Louie’s humor this touches on something that makes us a little uncomfortable. We’re not quite sure if we can laugh at the title. You can’t say that. You can’t call her that. Yet the punch line hinges on love not humiliation. They use this derogatory language because it’s a recognition of their shared suffering. (Maybe it’s more of a shared tolerance in this case.) This is the best kind of humor. The most human kind of humor. We’re in the on the joke. Labels and overgeneralizations hit that itchy kind of soft spot where we must laugh because laughing keeps us from crying.

This brand of humor allows me to make fun of my brother for looking so damn dapper in his suit jacket. I know he doesn’t like to dress up. I know it embarrasses him to hear he’s turned from a cute little freckled baby into a handsome freckle-faced freshman. I know so I tease. He may disagree how kind this actually is but he’s wrong. It’s love.

The moment caught mid-mockery:


Sibling tolerance at its purest.

If you have half a negative thought about this kid, I’ll kick your ass.

The wife and I talk about babies.

Sometimes, as I try to fall asleep, my mind will spin before letting me drift off. Lately these thoughts bounce towards parenthood. Are we ready? Am I ready? How will a baby change our life? Will the dog like the baby? Will the baby like the dog? Is the school district we’re in any good?

The list is endless. Maybe the questions shouldn’t be answered.

One thing has become clear, as we talk and let our minds drift with the poodle tucked between us, that even though we treat our dog like a child, she is not. We can leave her alone for hours on end. She generally does not wake us in the middle of the night – except to alert us of monsters breaking into the house. She is our responsibility but she doesn’t (entirely) control our lives.

Then again, I’d argue that she has taught us at least one important thing; she has taught us how to talk to each other about another being whom we both love. We talk about her diet and her poops and her mood. We must agree on how to discipline her. We have to have these conversations and occasional disagreements like adults. This can be hard when we have divergent opinions and we’re both right. Eventually we figure it out.

If we’re ready or not, I think the dog will be happy for us to dress up a baby instead of her:


Little does she know, we’ll never stop:


She’s so cute when she’s mad!

The wife watched a video on her phone while we waited for the potatoes to finish baking. A little dog yelped from within the phone. Our poodle jumped into action – to save us from the invaders, of course.

We still can’t convince her that her worry is for naught:


We just returned from our delayed honeymoon in Cancun. We ate. We drank. We got a little sunburned (as one would expect of fair skinned Midwesterners in winter). We devoured our books and sat on the beach.

I couldn’t have asked for a more ideal honeymoon. Obviously we wanted to share it.

But we didn’t want to over share.

Instead of posting a picture of the view from our room… And our first frozen drinks. And our feet in the sand. And the lizard on the walk. And the beautiful plating of our first meal. And the look of love in my wife’s eyes. And the way she looked like she could take over the world, striding into the waves. And the way the light caught the clouds as the sun set over the bay.

Instead of posting all that glory we simply this out to the world:


This picture got nearly as many likes and comments as our engagement. People seem to like our love. Maybe they like our simplicity and restraint, too. I can’t say I disagree. It’s easy to get carried away – particularly when you’re in love. The world should know your joy. Our joy, however, seems to be a little more palatable in small doses.


Most of the conversation around Blue is the Warmest Color has revolved around the sex. And yes, there are three very explicit sex scenes. Scenes that, personally, I would rather not watch with a theater full of people. At the end of one such extended scene, a gay fella sitting in our row said “oh thank god that’s over.” But maybe that’s just me and puritanical friend.

Beyond the sensational sex scenes, the movie is pretty damn good. It is the portrait of a relationship, one that spans some awkward times. High school and college and first jobs. Young professional life. Our dear protagonists must find their footing in the world and with each other. Largely the emotions feel true – which gets big points in my book – and the acting is suburb (despite the fact that sweet Adele can’t remember to use a napkin when she eats):


With all the buzz around this movie, I hadn’t heard (or blocked out the fact) that it is three hours long. THREE! Like The Godfather and Schindler’s List and Titanic. THREE! I thought we were past that fad. I was more than a little wary of that benchmark but you shouldn’t be. I’m sure this movie will pop up at the Oscars so you might as well check it off your list.

Two of the worst feelings. Yet, sometimes they come from the best places.

1. I am jealous of the wife’s ability to put sentences together. Even her casual little blog posts are fucking gorgeous. My chest swells with jealousy only to be crushed by love. Now the feeling isn’t jealousy. It’s pride and gooey adoration and sunshine and puppies. Puppies far outrank jealousy.

2. I am embarrassed how much I like this song:

3. See both emotions combined in the wife’s most recent blog post:

Trust me, you’ll love it.

On the hottest day in June we stood on a gravel path that cut through a prairie in central Iowa. We held small bouquets arranged by my mother-in-law, calla lilies and freesia. My brother combed his hair and tucked in his shirt. My mother cried. The dog behaved. My wife-to-be looked beautiful, like the best kind of summer girl in her green dress – even when she made that scrunched up cry face while saying our vows.



Back at my mother’s house, just down the road, our families and friends gathered. More people than I expected Food. Games. Beer. Wine. More love than I deserve. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.


My brother graduated from high school this weekend:

More on that later. I’m still processing it.

We used the trip to take care of some wedding details and to apply for our marriage license – the date is quickly approaching.

While we were signing the papers – in all their grand simplicity – the county records gentleman had some trouble locating my birth certificate. Yes, my mother was married at the time of my birth. Yes, I was born here. Yes, yes, yes, yes. No record. No big deal, the gentleman said, it’s probably with the state. Or I’m adopted. Let the jokes begin.

My mother and the girlfriend thought this uncertainty was hilarious:


Even when then joke is at my expense, I love making them laugh.

Spring starts this week and Minnesota is teasing us with a bright blue sky. Blue sky and sun and a bitter cold you typicaly associate with mid-January. We know better than to try and fight it. I’m tired of making the best of a cold day. Our quick two block walk this morning was enough.

We’re just going to ignore the forecast and pretend that only the sun matters:


Happy St. Patrick’s Day, friends.

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