Tag Archives: marriage

New wife fail

This is the face of disgust. Two months in.

Except I keep telling people it’s been three.

All that wedding planning, you’d think I’d get the post-wedding time frame down. But no.

Fact: Mr. Quirky is better at remembering how long we’ve been married.

Additional fact: I forgot his birthday.

Well, truth be told, it wasn’t anywhere near his birthday. I was just talking about his birthday and got the date wrong. (In front of his sister.)

I will never live it down.

Trust me. He won’t let me forget.

Kind of like he won’t let me forget that I have the most wretched dish washer loading skills on the planet.

From Mr. Quirky’s standpoint: 40% of these items do not belong in the dishwasher at all.

20% certainly not on the bottom rack.

And, 10% are just poorly placed.

And then there’s the laundry. Or rather, the dog bed.

This shot may have been staged, but Mr. Quirky found Gertie sleeping here last night.

Because I wouldn’t let her in the bed because she smelled like a camp fire.

And despite threats, I was too lazy to bathe her.

So, she found the next best thing.

I really can’t blame her. Just like I can’t blame Mr. Quirky for being slightly annoyed when he has to wear his boxers inside out because there were no clean undies. I’m just lucky I have an ample supply of granny panties I mean underwear to get me by for a few weeks.

Marriage = awesome!

Editor’s note: No husbands or dogs were completely neglected in the making of this post.

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Newlyweds…kinda has a good ring to it!

Copyright 2010 BlueRue Studio Photography

Sometimes life gets so hectic, I forget to take time and savor our newlywed status. Thanks to Jenna’s blog, this week I was able to reflect on my love for Mr. Quirky and what makes our relationship special.

Check out my interview on her weekly feature, “Meet the Newlyweds.”

Then, be sure to check out her great recipes. I was drooling over Pork Chops in Creamy Champagne Sauce with Rustic Garlic Mashed Potatoes.

Like literally drooling. I need to go get a napkin now.

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Marriage and the law of averages

Photo copyright 2010 BlueRue Studio Photography

It’s been a month since our blissful nuptials.

Everyone keeps asking how married life is. That’s kind of a hard question to answer. Of course, it’s wonderful. But what do people really want to hear when they ask that question?

Do they want to hear about how we got through the great curtain hanging drama of 2010? (Oy. Flashbacks.) Or, how we snuggled on the couch last night after a power outage? How about the homemade waffles we fixed together on Sunday morning, causing the forgetful-before-coffee Mr. Quirky to have to run to the store twice to get necessary items to create said waffles.

But I think what people really want to know is, have we figured it out yet.

Probably not. But I think have figured him out. It’s all about averages.

Flashback to last night – the power went out, so we lit some candles. I commented on how good they smelled, and Mr. Quirky’s response was “you smell good.”

Now under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t have thought much more about that statement. He’s always flattering me. But I happened to know that my feet were really stinky. In fact, they were kind of grossing me out.

“Have you smelled me tonight?” I challenged.

No, he admitted. He hadn’t. But I always smell good, so he was making a statement about my pleasant scent in general.

But I don’t always smell good, I responded. In fact, sometimes I’m really, really stinky.

But I was starting to get it. The man behind the curtain, if you will.

So, when you tell me I look beautiful, does it mean I look beautiful in that moment? Or, are you basing it on a law of averages that most of the time I look beautiful and while I may be a little disheveled at the time of the compliment, you are pretty sure I can put myself back together again?

He didn’t have to answer that.

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Two Peas in A Pod

The fiance’s mom has been working on the great cake project which requires going through old photos of both of us to pick pictures for the film strips.

My mom picked some of my old photos to send to her. (Wow,  Mom. You picked some real winners. Really? The toilet picture? Thanks.) 

In compiling the pictures, the fiance’s mom began to notice some pretty eerie similarities. It’s almost as if we’ve been together all along…

Rub-a-dub-dub him

Rub-a-dub-dub me

(I still get that excited about taking a bath.)

Adorable pose him

Adorable pose me

But wait…we’re not done. Because not only were we both cheek-pinch worthy cute little kids, we both found our middle grades a little more…awkward.

First day of school in blue him

First day of school in blue me

(Yes, that is a perm.)

Smarty-pants project him

Smarty-pants project me

(First place! Booyah!)

And while these pictures might make you think we were high school sweethearts, I can assure you, we did not meet until 2008…

Prom pic him

Prom pic me

We really are two peas in a pod…

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Our McChristmas Fight 2009

It was epic.

The McChristmas (Tree) fight of 2009.

A battle of traditions. And a quirky couple who had to merge two very different traditions. Specifically ornament traditions.

You don’t mess with me when it comes to ornaments.

<—- just look at those beady red eyes. I’m holding last year’s ornament.

THE ornament given to me by my mother each year.

Thematically gifted for each year that passes.

See? That ornament has a picture of the Country Club Plaza on it. Which is where I moved after my divorce. (Because I had always wanted to live near there. And because I could. And why wouldn’t I?)

Isn’t my mom clever? (Truth be told: she had to regift that ornament from her own tree because she looked high and low for a Plaza ornament but couldn’t find one. But STILL. It’s the tradition that counts.)

Every year. I own an ornament symbolizing every year of my life since seventh grade.

The moose playing volleyball? Eighth grade. Only I didn’t play volleyball. I um, didn’t quite make the team. But I was the manager and that is a VERY important roll….

Backpack? No, not Kindergarten. It was my senior year in high school. (Because every high school senior caries a backpack with a bear and a pencil in it.)

Corvette with gifts? I think even my mom will admit that one was a stretch. But it was meant to symbolize 2000. The year I graduated from college and struck out on my own as a reporter in Rocky Mount, NC.

But let’s not be selfish here. It’s not like my mom won’t give one to the fiance each year. This is the tradition that keeps giving.

And so, I had visions of our first Christmas tree. Decked with white lights (the only acceptable lighting in my opinion) and the lot of my sentimental ornaments.

It would be so sweet. And as the years passed, we would add to it with the ornaments collected together.

My vision was brought to a screeching halt.

Someone else had an ornament tradition. 10 years ago, a young 20 year-old bachelor decided he would enlist his buddies to help him deck out his Christmas tree.  So he did what he did best: he threw a party.

And invited all of his friends to bring him an ornament for his tree.

Oh, they brought ornaments. Every year. (hmmm….notice anything familiar?)   Some more “appropriate” than others. Most very funny and light-hearted in nature. Many hand-made, including the beloved McRib ornament. Crafted so cleverly from several boxes of the elusive McRib.

It was time to set a date for the 10th annual ornament party and we had a big problem.

How could we put my sweet little moose playing volleyball on the same tree with McRib boxes? These two traditions just weren’t going to work. We needed a solution.

Him: Well, why don’t we pick from the best of my ornaments and then put yours on too?

Me: OR, we could have a special tree for the “adult” ornaments and then have a family ornament tree?

Oh, that didn’t go over well at all.

He heard: Your ornaments are crap and need to be separated.

And so the fight began. Somehow, I missed his first offer to compromise. (I’m a little silly about listening at times.)

All I could think of was how could we manage years and years of both traditions? And what about when we have kids? Some of his ornaments might not be child-friendly. And I wanted to be sure there was room (in our lives) on the tree for children.

He persisted.

I persisted.

He threw up his hands and said we’d cancel the party.

But that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted a compromise (remember, I didn’t quite catch that first offer.)

Tears were shed.

I told him not to cry.

I’m just kidding. It was me.

And finally, in a moment of clarity, I suggested that we take the best of his ornaments and all of mine (because there are many more of his than mine.) And he laughed because it’s exactly what he had suggested in the first place.

And I ate a little crow, but it’s ok.

Because we figured out how to merge two very different traditions. And, at the same time, offering a hard-core challenge to our friends (because mine are invited too.) May the best ornaments win a permanent place on our tree.

So bring on the McRibs this year. I’ll be happy to place the best of the best right next to my little moose.

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He will be my Mr. Quirky

It was an amazing weeekend. The fiance and I caught up on sleep. Oh delicious sleep that I have been missing for seven days now. It was loverly.

We also caught a funny/touching movie  with our friend Steve. The weather in Kansas City was so beautiful that when I suggested grilling out after the movie, the fiance didn’t hesitate a beat when he emphatically agreed that yes, that was a fantastic idea.

And it was. 

I couldn’t help but think of that movie, later, because it dealt with cheating. In this case, you kind of wanted to support the cheating because you thought the wife’s spouse had been cheating on her. But do two wrongs make a right?  Is cheating ever ok? No, I don’t think it is, but is there a gray zone? Is everything black and white?

In my story, my ex cheated on me at the very end  and the beginning of the demise of our marriage. No, it doesn’t make it ok. No, it was totally wrong. But it is what it is.

For me, it was the catalyst to walk away for good. No matter how much he begged for me back, or tried to question the integrity of my actions, I knew that I could never trust him again. 

For me, that act was the beginning of a whole new life. A life filled with freedom and new words. See, I couldn’t bring you Queen of Quirky under my old marriage. My ex thought it was tacky to blog, to share your life with “strangers.” Yes, he supported my blog when it was only about running, but to write about life, love and  truth was wrong on too many levels for him. 

When I lost my marriage, I found my voice. A writer by nature, I discovered myself again. And once I had found the woman inside myself, I knew I was ready to find someone to share this amazing woman with. 

From day one with the fiance, he has not only supported my blog, but encouraged it. He knows it is an expression of my heart and a piece of what is inside of me. 

Tonight, he came over for a bit and we fell into a couch laughing together, landing upside down over the back of the couch. It was ridiculously silly and it was probably my favorite thing from the entire weekend. Us, upside down over the back of the couch, wondering how we were going to get right side up. 

Earlier in the evening, I was hanging out at my pool with several young couples who happen to know I have been married before. We were joking about prenups and the guys were teasing their wives about how they should have made them sign one. 

One of the husbands stopped and looked me in the eyes and asked me, “So are you sure this time? Is he the one?”

And without a doubt, I looked at him back with a big ‘ole grin on my face and answered, “Yes. He is the one.”

And he will be the first and only Mr. Quirky.

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