I’m not wearing my glasses or contacts, I can’t even really see what I’m typing. The letters are looking like wet, ink smeared, glowing blotches.

It’s 10:30 Friday morning. I’m laying in a nest of green fake sueded pillows on the green fake sueded couch. Mr. X is sleeping. I hope he sleeps all day. He needs it desperately. Not only is he working seven days a week on baseball, he got a hockey puck to the chin/mouth last night. An inch higher, and we would be at the dentist office right now. We were at the hospital getting him stitches until two in the morning. Seven stitches, four on the outside and three on the inside. I was driving home from yoga when he called, told me what happened, and asked if I would pick up some butterfly bandages. I did. When I got home and all the blood had been wiped off, we realized the true nature of the injury and drove straight to the hospital. We were there for three and a half hours. I was trying not to get agitated because when you wait that long at a hospital, it probably means that there are people far worse off than you that need attention.

In other news that’s all about me.

Did I mention that I have a new job? I can’t remember. But I do. I work at a spa four days a week. Four days isn’t really accurate since I only have to be there when I have work. So in reality, I work at a spa for about 20 hours a week, 30 if you count the drive and hang out time. So far, I really like it. The therapists are nice, the clients are mostly nice, and the operation runs like a real business. It’s on a lake, with ducks and swans surrounded by grass, which is a nice break from living in the dusty, thirsty desert.

If it’s any consolation (mostly to myself)….I think about writing here alot.

Married life is….the same. I thought something was going to happen. I don’t know what, but something. I don’t hear violins when I wake up, and there are not stars pulsing and rotating in my eyes. But, those things didn’t happen before we were married either, so I’m not really alarmed. (sorry baby, it’s true)

But, the good news is, Mr. X still cracks me up to the point that if I drank milk, it would shoot out of my nose. He’s cute as hell, and he can fix things in the house. Not only can he fix things, he builds them too. He can tell when I’m getting overly hungry and incapacitated and makes me eggs with anything I want in them.

I feel like I get to have a fun slumber party with my best friend every day….and we get to have sex, officially sanctioned by god, as a special added bonus.

I’m still driving the black pickup truck with JUST MARRIED written all over it with colored soap crayon. I probably should wash it off, but I really like it. Would it be wrong if I just kept reapplying the crayon?

My ulterior motive is, when I get pulled over for having an expired driver’s licence and tags, I can say truthfully, that I was just married and the documents with my new last name haven’t arrived…and really, Mr. Officer, who wants to make an extra trip to the DMV?

Is it a bad sign to find your wedding ring in the detergent cup of the dish washer? I’ve heard it’s a good omen that means luck, prosperity and clean dishes will be with you throughout your life.

p.s. don’t tell Mr. X that my very important wedding ring was on the counter instead of my finger and Jason the cat probably knocked into the open dishwasher.

hi.

Written Saturday morning before officially becoming Mrs. X:

It is three two hours and fifty two minutes until my wedding. My toenails painted, mud mask washed off and freshly scrubbed face ready for tribal ceremony paint. Mr. X is downstairs making the compilation cd for the dinner. We have a private room complete with our own music choice.

I feel a little weird. If I was drinking, I might have a drink. Actually, right now, I could use a triple venti carmel macciado. But alas, all my crutches are gone, and I must stand sober and decaffeinated in my hour of matrimony.

Richard Cheese’s version of Closer is blaring from the laptop downstairs. My cousin is laughing. The rest of the family went to Denny’s for some breakfast. My sister, husband and niece are on the way back from the Circus Circus Adventure dome. The Detroit faction are getting their hair did. The San Diego faction is meeting us at the church.

Me, I’m sitting in the grey puffy chair thinking about what to do next.

I am a married woman. I got to say “my husband” for the first time to a stranger on Monday. I was ordering food at a cafe and asked for the bread on the side. She said, I could order the entree with kale instead, and I said, “No that’s okay, my husband really likes that kind of bread”. Right when I said it, I thought, wow….my husband…..wow. Then when we were leaving, she gave X the food and said it was for his bride. At first we couldn’t figure out how she knew we were just married. Then we realized that it could have been the black pick up truck we were driving that was covered with multi colored hearts and huge JUST MARRIED soap crayon markings.

Everyone is gone. I feel I might recover, but there is only a 50% chance of that. Although I’ve always had a problem of being immersed in feelings totally. If I’m sick, I’m sure I will die. If I’m happy then nothing will ever go wrong again. Probably after a few more cups of tea and a nap there might even be a 75% chance of recovery.

Everything went better than planned or expected. X’s sister saved the day by purchasing the wedding DVD beforehand. We mistakenly thought that we could buy it afterward. I’ll post it as soon as it gets ripped.

….more to follow after a shower and hot tea therapy

I am exhausted.

The house will be guest free tomorrow.