What I Learned on My Christmas Vacation

At 9 a.m. on New Year's Eve (after a two-hour delay on our red eye), we returned from Scottsdale, Arizona. This was the first time in several years that we went away as a family, just the four of us, for a week's vacation. I think it's important to do that every once awhile, just to see whether you actually like each other. After all, if daily life is any indication, we're all pretty much certain that we live with inconsiderate jerks. I'm happy to say that we confirmed that we do in fact like each other. Sorta...

It's important to look natural in your photos.

What I Learned on My Christmas Vacation

1. The kids get along great...as long as they have someone else to pick on. 
2. Mom is an excellent target for abuse.
3. Like I did in high school, I'm going to assume the degree to which I'm being picked on directly correlates to how much I am loved.
4. I can add hiking to the list of things--old movies, opera, modern art, camping--that I wish I liked but really don't.
5. I probably shouldn't have tackled a double-black diamond trail on my first hiking trip in years. 
6. If you're going to stop and cry while hiking, be sure to have tissues so you don't have to blow your nose on your shirt.
7. I have no mental fortitude whatsoever. When the going gets tough, the tough get going I want someone to carry me back to the car. 
8. Vacation isn't the ideal time to test just how much cheese you can eat before you get sick.
9. As the mom, it works out in your favor to bribe your daughter to see Star Wars with the family by offering a massage and facial in exchange. Someone had to accompany her...
10. You can get an amazing massage and facial for a very reasonable price in Scottsdale.
11. If you use the words "history" or "museum" to describe an activity to Abby, her IQ drops 50 points and she simply shuts down like a malfunctioning computer.
12. I'm thankful that conferences with my kids' teachers were always very positive, because Lily is an embarrassment to the family. Just ask Jessica, the dog sitter.

    

    If one must take a selfie, it should be artsy, like on an angel.

13. Apparently, selfies are no longer cool, hence following a familiar technological pattern: Once parents adopt what was formerly a "kid" thing, the kids immediately abandon it and move on to whatever's next.
14. I would consider moving to Arizona in retirement, but I think I'd miss the ocean too much. 
15. Regardless of where I retire, I'm psyched that I'll have Rob MacPherson by my side. 

Sorry for the mushy stuff there at the end. It's our 21st anniversary on Saturday. To send gifts, message me for our mailing address. 

I like this photo that Abby took of us.
Just ignore the giant phallic symbol.

Finally, coming soon (tomorrow??), my first 2015 "Best Of" list!

The Top 10 Things I Love about My Best Friend

This is a special edition post in honor of my best friend's birthday. He hates when I blog about him, but why stop now?

Here, in no particular order, are the top 10 things I love about my husband:

1. He's really good at small talk - whether it's the guys at the parking garage or the president of a company. And it's genuine; never sleazy sales guy banter.
   
2. Speaking of sales, years ago someone told me that, in media ad sales circles, she'd never met anyone who didn't have good things to say about Rob. And in ad sales, that's saying something!
   
3. My parents, my sister and more than a couple of my friends enjoy talking to Rob more than as much as they enjoy talking to me.
   
4. My man can dance! Just come watch him in the kitchen.
   
5. He doesn't whine, blame, or make excuses, ever. You I might want to take a lesson or two from him.
   
6. Rob doesn't mind running errands with the kids, packing lunches, or changing the bed sheets. Three of my least favorite things to do.
   
7. He bought me Swedish fish and licorice for our anniversary, which in my mind means I don't need to worry about my weight.
   
8. His first impulse is to help someone in need, be it a stranger or a friend.
   
9. Years ago, when I still had stuffed animals lying around, he'd make them "talk" to me. I have fond memories of the duck banter.
   
10. His faith is quiet, but he lives it better than most "vocal" Christians I know. 

Of course, he's also an awesome dad, a reasonably good listener, makes an excellent spaghetti sauce, and can get me pretty great seats at Phillies games. 

Happy Birthday, Rob!
I may not be "the prettiest girl in the whole wide world" anymore,
but I'm still the luckiest.

Finding Light When Life is Heavy

It looks like 2013 is going to be the year I officially grew up. It's not so much that I feel older, but I think I've matured. I've had to. The past 12 months have been challenging. The loss of family and friends, adjusting to a new job and all that that entails, managing concussions, walking with my church family through the shocking events that have affected our spiritual home, raising increasingly teenage-like teens. You get the idea.

Given the heaviness, you might think I'd be craving more fluff in my life, especially on the entertainment front. More light and silly television, movies, reading material and even music. Surprisingly, that hasn't been the case. It occurred to me the other day that my choices in entertainment are increasingly reflecting the gravity of real life. It seems I've decided to put away childish things. Take television, for instance. In September 2011 I wrote a post dissing reality TV and confessing that, "When I turn to Hollywood entertainment for my ticket out of Funkville, I look for a dreamy escape, something that will make me laugh, or sigh (a happy sigh), or simply put my brain to rest for a short period of time." Back then I wasn't much of a television watcher, but I decided that it was time to see what I'd been missing. With my Entertainment Weekly 2011 Fall TV Preview issue in hand, I selected ten shows that I thought I would enjoy as mind candy. Two years later, six of those programs are still on the air and I've given up on all but one of them (Homeland). I exchanged Once Upon a Time for Scandal. Hart of Dixie is being replaced by Masters of Sex. I opted out of Glee. Even one of my former favorites, New Girl, is on borrowed time. It's not that I don't want to laugh, but it seems that what was once amusing is now silly, senseless or downright stupid. The dramas I've switched to better reflect my mood (and possibly my subconscious desire to sleep with the president, a terrorist and a sex researcher). Perhaps I've grown to realize that consuming fantasy and fluff doesn't make life any easier. Damn, that's depressing, isn't it?

Another tell-tale sign of this maturity trend is my Dial America magazine subscription. For years I've helped support the PA Special Olympics (at least that's what they tell me) with my yearly renewal of Entertainment Weekly. In 2013, however, I opted for TIME instead. Thought it was time I knew what was going on in the world. Though keeping up with the weekly issues is definitely a challenge, I must say that, three months in to the subscription, I already feel considerably smarter, albeit considerably more depressed about the state of our country and the world.

Then there are my choices in books. While I was never particularly fond of chick lit or Harlequin Romances, I did gravitate toward fiction. My last two reads? The Heart and the Fist: The Education of a Humanitarian, the Making of a Navy SEAL and Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail. Both true stories. Both heavy. Heck, even my music's heavier and a little bit harder. All the better with which to vent my aggression and stress. Maybe I should go back to martial arts training, too.

The good news is that with all this weight I've taken on (including about five pounds), I was recently reminded of one source of light and lightness in my life. Believe it or not, it's a man. My husband, to be exact.

Rob and I spent the weekend in Charleston, SC where we met up with three of his fraternity brothers. Great guys. Funny-as-hell guys. Single guys. One is twice divorced and engaged. One is divorced and in a relationship. One has never been married. As fellow Fij came up in conversation, it became increasingly obvious that Rob's and my almost 19-year-old marriage is an anomaly. More importantly, it became obvious that I'm married to a man who understands what's important in life (me), whose values match my own, and who sees the world not through beer goggles rose-colored glasses or cynical eyes, but as it is -- the good and bad -- and never fails to recognize all of life's tremendous blessings.

Life can be heavy and hard, but I can take comfort in knowing that I'm married to a man who stands beside me and lightens whatever burden I carry. I may just try to do the same for him. 

The Popularity Factor

Relationships are tricky terrain. Of course, it's also "Tricky to rock a rhyme, to rock a rhyme that's right on time." (A little something for you Run DMC fans.) There are many fine lines that exist to keep relationships in balance and when one of them is crossed, the results can range from discomfort to outright chaos. While the lines differ in each marriage, I believe most of us can agree on the importance of maintaining balance in the areas of:

• Love - seems obvious, but should one partner feel they love the other more than they are loved in return, things can go downhill very quickly
• Intelligence - while Rob likes to think he's smarter than me (and nearly everyone else), I know this is untrue and therefore equilibrium is maintained
• Need - this is a tough one. Depending on the state of your mental and emotional health, the level of neediness can swing wildly. While I find I appreciate Rob more when I'm needy, should my neediness last too long, I begin to feel pathetic and balance is affected in a negative way.
• Contributions - this is not financially-based for me, but rather pertains to what's being shared in the way of responsibilities on the home front. As evidenced by my recent post "A Love Story," an uptick on the husband's side can reap bountiful rewards. But, even here, should he start contributing too much, I feel guilt and discomfort. (With time, however, I believe I could adjust.)

I was originally going to include Attractiveness in this list, but if you look at some couples, you can see that the balance is way outta whack. Personally, I'm not sure whether I'd rather be married to the sad or scary looking dude, or the head turning hunk (and vice versa for you men). Once again, I prefer a reasonable balance. I think couples should be within 2 points of each other on the completely objective 1-10 attractiveness scale. But really, this could be the subject of its own post.

What I actually want to address today is the issue of Popularity. For the past fifteen years, Rob's connection to the Phillies has provided him with a ridiculous slight advantage where popularity is concerned. Recently, however, I have begun to think that perhaps his popularity is a result of his personality. The evidence lies in the number of social get-togethers Rob is invited to "with the boys," not all of whom can be Phils fans, right? There's the Pinocchio's Beer Garden Gang, Select Company Cool Kid Dads, Heatherwold Heathens (they are not all heathens, but I like the alliteration), Client Comrades, Home Base Buddies, and heck, he even has a Men's Bible Study Group at the church. I believe Rob could go out for a beer with any one (or more) of these groups any night of the week.

When I compare Rob's popularity to my own (and comparing oneself is always an excellent idea), I'm considerably bummed out slightly concerned. The honest truth is that I am not half as popular.  I have one primary group of girlfriends and the Freakin' Angels are freakin' difficult to engage socially. In fact, I'm usually the organizer of any social get-togethers. Perhaps they're getting together without me? I'm basically tethered to my other friends through Rob and rarely receive an invitation to socialize outside of the couple-context. In a divorce, I'm pretty sure they'd pick him.

My phone's not ringing, the texts aren't coming, and my inbox offers nothing but spam and prayer concerns. It's bleak, readers, bleak.

Since my school days, I have never been one of the popular girls and frankly it's never bothered me until now. I think it's because now my popularity, or lack thereof, affects not only me, but my husband and my kids. How many dinners, parties, BBQs, getaways, game nights, social events, etc. are we not being invited to because of my clearly lacking/irritating/self-absorbed/woe's me/snarky personality? And how much does my lack of fashion sense, including knowledge of the latest jewelry designs and stylish footware impact my popularity rating?

I figure I have three options here:

1. I can sit around and blog/obsess about it.
2. I can work on my personality and my wardrobe so the cool kids will like me.
3. I can forget those snotty bitches women who don't recognize how adorable, charming, witty, intelligent, and of course, humble I am, and stick with my hard-to-get-out-of-the-house Angels and other equally wonderful, though few in number, women friends.

I bet you know which way I'm leaning.

To end on a positive note (hey, it's a new year; I'm trying new things), I don't think Rob has any friends calling him who are 15+ years younger or 40+ years older. Today I had lunch with a certain seminarian who actually made it a point to get together with little old me before she returns to school this weekend. I'm feeling pretty damn special. And on the other end of the friend age spectrum, I may be the only person you know who has maintained a friendship with a woman I met when I was in my teens. She's now a lovely 88-year-old widow.

Yes, Monty Hall, I think I'll go with what's behind Door #3!

A Love Story

I recall a conversation with a friend on the topic of greeting cards. More specifically, cards for her husband. Her husband is the demonstrative, lavish-shows-of-affection type and she's just about the complete opposite. Sometimes she feels guilty about this and on the rare occasion that the mood strikes, she'll pick up one of those warm and fuzzy, lovey-dovey cards for her man. Unfortunately, he often doesn't see them.

"I have good intentions, but by the time I planned to give it to him he's somehow irritated me again and the mood is lost." 

This leads me to the purpose for this post. A declaration of my love for my husband. I know this is not typical Kim territory. Positive, loving, and kind are generally not words associated with this freakin' angel, but the spirit is moving me today. I did consider waiting to share this on our anniversary (Jan. 7) or his birthday (Jan. 8), but there's the distinct possibility that he will tick me off by then. So here it is.

My husband Rob. A love story. Quit rolling your eyes and go with it.

Like every married couple, Rob and I have had (and will continue to have) our ups and downs. Our arguments are generally short-lived, but there are stretches of time when they seem to come more often than either of us would like. Some years overall seem tougher than others in every way, not just for our relationship. I recall 2011 being pretty crappy, but as we wind down 2012, I find myself smiling. Me, smiling? Weird, huh?

So what's made this a year worth smiling about? I think it was the way all the forces combined to remind, reassure, and reinforce what an amazing gift the love is between a husband and wife. More than a year ago Rob was suffering with extreme back problems that resulted in ER visits and ultimately surgery. I held his hand and tried to comfort him, but was otherwise helpless while he dealt with pain that actually made childbirth seem like a walk in the park. While my heart broke to see him in such agony, I think the brokenness, when healed, made my heart--and my love for him--even stronger. And this year when my depression brought me lower than I'd been in a decade, Rob took care of me. Never losing patience or avoiding the problem despite not truly understanding what I was experiencing because he hasn't been there himself. He simply loved me when I most needed loving.

Somewhere along the line Rob also started making a visible effort to be more involved on the home front with everything from housework and the kids to my ever-growing to do list. He knows my least favorite chores and takes them upon himself. He knows I hate running errands so he does the running. And he started doing whatever he could to deal with sick kids or their appointments so I wasn't always sacrificing my career to handle everything that came along. At the same Rob started pitching in, he became more attentive and affectionate. I used to tell him I always knew when he wanted something because his level of helpful activity and romantic gestures were blatantly obvious took a marked turn. Now I never know when he wants something because his good deeds are such a regular part of how he treats me. I'm never sure now when it's time for sex.This new approach to marriage was very disorienting for a while, but trust me, I've gotten used to it.

Don't get me wrong. Rob was never a lousy husband (I know a few of those). I never questioned his love for me. But like many women, there were times I felt like my biggest job as a wife and mother was making sure everything didn't fall down around us. We were in that rut that is so easy to fall into after 15+ years of marriage, two full time jobs and full-time kids and incredibly full lives. I truly believe having cared for each other through some difficult times and actually listening to each other's needs has brought us to this much better place. I don't know if it's Rob, the new job, or the correct combination of meds (probably all three), but I haven't felt this content, this thankful, or this light in a very long time.

Rob, I know you don't appreciate being the subject of my blog posts, but I hope you know this one was written in love to thank you for all you've done, all you're doing, and all you are to me. Now don't screw it up.

Living through the Change

When we marry, we hope that the things we love about our spouse will always stay the same, and that the things we can't stand don't care for will miraculously disappear or be significantly improved upon. More than one marriage has failed due to such unrealistic expectations. 

When I married Rob, the list of qualities I loved about him was (and is) long. About the only things I could hope would change were his home improvement skills and interest in yard work. I'm not holding my breath. Interestingly, while Rob hasn't morphed into Mr. Fix-It, a few years ago, seemingly all at once, he did make some other significant changes that I didn't see coming:.

• He joined a health club. And actually worked out. A lot.
• He started training for a triathlon.
• He seemed to be purchasing better shoes.
• He started wearing cologne.

Naturally I jumped to conclusions: He’s having an affair a mid-life crisis. Of course, it could have been worse. He could have purchased a sports car and a toupee instead of a road bike and gym membership. And thankfully he stopped wearing cologne after a brief while. I say thankfully not because I didn’t like the scent, but because my “bat shit crazy” self really did worry that something more than smelling good was up with that. I am also pleased to report that cologne was the only thing he dropped from his impressive list of changes. He is still working out, still training for a triathlon, and still wearing nice shoes. The bad news is that Rob has recently made yet another significant change in his life, and I worry about how it will affect our relationship.

Rob appears to be going vegan. Meat and potatoes Kim, married to a vegan?

Thanks to a documentary called Forks Over Knives, Rob has decided to primarily eat only those foods which do not come from animals with four legs. Or something like that. The difference is obvious, in my refrigerator and cabinets, anyway. There’s stuff in there I’ve never seen before. Like vegetables and fresh fruit. And whole grains. And more beans than one man (or woman, for that matter) should ever eat. And did I mention soy milk?

I asked Rob how I was supposed to cook for him now that’s he’s made such a major change to his diet. He responded with “Why start now?” The man has a point.

I know I should be pleased Rob is taking such good care of his health, but being the unsupportive and self-absorbed anxiety-ridden spouse that I am, all I can think about is how this affects me and the children. For example, there is much less space available in the fridge for stuff like soda, jello and pudding, and heavily processed baked goods. And there’s barely room for chips, sugary cereal, and mac-n-cheese in the cupboards. On top of issues of space, there is the issue of added expense. This healthy stuff ain’t cheap, meaning I should probably consider cutting back on the wine and takeout pizza. I also have concerns that Rob will turn into one of “those people” who live in Swarthmore and shop at the Co-Op. He actually brought home their membership brochure. And of course the biggest problem with Rob’s new diet is that it makes me feel bad about myself.

I know I should eat healthier, but I love the not-so-good-for-you stuff. It's my bread and butter, so to speak. I also come from a long line of not-so-healthy-eaters who live into their 90s with no health problems. And thankfully, I seem to have my dad's metabolism. In other words, the incentive just isn't there. I truly believe the only thing that would make me change my eating habits is an immediate threat to my life. As in “Step away from that beer, cheesesteak, and pierogie, or I’ll shoot.” And even then I might attempt to negotiate with my would-be assassin. 

In all seriousness, I’m thrilled happy that Rob is making such positive changes in his life. It would seem to indicate that he wants to live longer, probably so he can spend more time with me. Or, he wants to outlive me so he can enjoy a few years of solitude. Either way, good for him.

He's Always a Woman to Me

The UPS guy dropped off a package today. I was excited, trying to remember what I ordered. Alas, it wasn't for me. It was for the other woman that lives here. The other woman also known as my husband. Many signs point to my husband being part woman:

1. Clothing. Has more than I do. Owns better stuff than I do. Shops for new stuff more often than I do. Spends more than I do. And yesterday he made me throw out a pair of my shoes that he said were old and frumpy looking.
2. Showers. Long showers. His legs are quite hairy so I know he's not shaving in there. What takes so long is a mystery to me.
3. Getting ready. It starts with the shower and it's downhill from there. I can be ready to go in 5 minutes flat. I like to give him at least forty-five minutes. 
4. Better late than never? Probably as a result of #2 and #3, the man is late for everything. 
5. Chatty Cathy. The man talks on the phone more often and for much longer than I do. My sister, my mom, and several of my girlfriends count on much more significant conversations with my husband than they have with me.
6. Nervous Nellie. He insists on having me run the kids to the doctor for every fever, cough, and sniffle even when I know that it's nothing that can be medicated. And he's a germaphobe who puts anti-bacterial wipes in their lunches and sends the troops to the bathroom for hand washing every time we go out to eat.
7. Warm and fuzzy. It's always the woman that's cold and wants the blankets and the heat turned up, right? Not here. My husband is the first to clamor for the flannel sheets, blankets, and footy pajamas. He sweats me out, right into the spare bedroom.
8. Just leave that to me. Yard work. Painting. Meeting with contractors. The man's job? Not in this house. My man is more likely found with a book or a crossword puzzle than a hammer, rake, or Swiss army knife.

While I offer this list for a laugh at my husband's expense, I do have to admit that this womanly side of my man has its advantages. He happens to also be kind, considerate, sensitive to my emotional needs, and a loving and affectionate husband and father.

So, who wants to join me in outing the woman in your man?

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

1992: New York City

• Tiny cubicles
• Boss from hell
• A meager $21,000 with a master's degree
• Neil Young

It was my first job out of grad school and I was working for one of the leading ad agencies in the world. I hated my boss. I hated the corporate environment. I was stuffed into an itty-bitty cubicle with the rest of the underpaid peons. Life just couldn't get any better. But then it did. My cubicle neighbor decided that Neil Young needed to be played daily. Not just once a day, but all day. Every day. That voice was like nails on a chalkboard. To this day, when I hear a Neil Young song, my blood runs cold. Could I have ever liked Neil Young if I hadn't heard him on repeat for about a year? Sadly, we'll never know.

That was my first experience with musical over-kill, but it wasn't to be my last

1994: Avalon, New Jersey

• Blue shag carpeting
• Bodies everywhere
• Counting Crows

One summer before we got married, Rob and I shared a beach house with a few dozen of his closest friends. And that was the summer I despised the Counting Crows and their first CD, "August and Everything After." Like Neil Young, someone felt the Counting Crows should be played over, and over, and over, and over, and over again, ad nauseum.  So I grew to absolutely hate them and that CD, and was generally miserable for the entire summer (his friends wondered why he was marrying such a b*tch). It took several years before I could listen to the Counting Crows without wincing, though in this case I eventually grew to love that CD.

2010: Wallingford, Pennsylvania

• Two kids, a dog, a cat, a guinea pig, a husband
• 2nd degree black belt
• Freakin' Angels blog
• Bruce Springsteen

My husband is killing Bruce for me. Unlike in the case of Neil Young and the Counting Crows, I used to like Bruce Springsteen. A lot. But my husband, who's been a life-long fan, is increasingly obsessed. Obsessed as in attends every concert. Obsessed as in listens non-stop to the Bruce channel on satellite radio. Obsessed as in The Gospel According to Bruce Springsteen.

I don't know if it's just me, but there is nothing I can tolerate on such a constant basis. Not my kids. Not the Godfather movie. Not Bruce Springsteen. Heck, not even my beloved Glee, volume one CD!

Who or what has been ruined for you by overexposure?

I Need My Own Material

You know how some people look like their dog?

Well, I don't have that problem. My problem is that I've become my husband. We've always looked a little bit alike, given our dark hair, but worse than looking alike is that I've started to sound like him.

I don't know if it's a fraternity thing or a guy movie thing (it's probably a combination), but Rob has lots of witty, well-timed material. You may recognize the source of some of these:

• "That's what she said..."
• "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"
• "Don't cost nothin'"
• "Cha"
• "Key, very key"
• "How ya like me now?"
• "Turning into a nice little (fill in the blank with whatever) for you."

And then there's the lingo:

Base = bed
Cheese = girlfriend, woman, wife
Sklech =  good

I could go on and on.

These little Robisms are fine for Rob, but I've started to adopt them. It's particularly noticeable when we spend a lot of concentrated time together, like on our recent trip to Florida. It seemed like every other expression out of my mouth was one of his. It's embarrassing really. I feel so unoriginal.

So my assignment to you, dear reader, is to come up with some Kimisms so I can develop my own material. I look forward to your wordizzle for myshizzle. (Clearly I'm going to need some help here.)

Gastronomical Reflections

When we weren't braving the record-setting low temperatures in Key West this past weekend, Rob and I were forced to spend our time indoors, eating and drinking. Heck, even the movie theater served food, beer and wine! (I recommend seeing "Invictus," btw). During breakfast at Blue Heaven, a funky spot with chickens in the yard, an eclectic mix of furnishings, and outstanding food, Rob remarked that it might be among his top 10 most memorable dining experiences. That led to a discussion about other memorable spots and even with my horrible long-term memory, I was able to name a few - ALL of which are from my childhood which means that Rob really needs to take me out more. Among my favorites, in no particular order:

• Youell's Oyster House on College Hill in Easton, PA (sadly no longer there and the other location was never as good)
  
• Crossroads Hotel in Hellertown, PA - best pizza, steak sandwiches and pitchers of beer around - and no atmosphere to speak of unless you count the big fish on the wall
• The Ritz at the Allentown Fairgrounds* - I remember going there for ice cream with my parents when I was little
• The Shanty* in Allentown - a really good salad bar, and that's saying something since I don't even eat veggies!
  
• Yocco's - the infamous hot dog chain in the Lehigh Valley. Memories of "meals" complete with deep fried pierogies with my aunts and Nana
• The Paddock* in Allentown - another classic pizza spot
  

*I haven't been to these places in years and cannot attest to whether they're still any good or even still exist!

What this list goes to show is that 1) I have low-brow taste when it comes to restaurants and 2) It's a miracle my cholesterol, blood pressure, and weight aren't through the roof.

Tomorrow, I'll add to this post with the story of my newest and most unique dining experience ever. A tale of dark corners, icy drafts, and seriously big beef!

Meanwhile, share your most memorable dining experiences or spots with the rest of our Freakin' Angel readers.

This One Goes Out to the One I Love

Tomorrow I leave for Key West with my best guy of 15 years, returning to our honeymoon location where apparently it's almost as chilly as our bedroom it is here. Yes, I've been in a state of wedded bliss for a decade and a half. Known the man for nearly 20 years. It's definitely time to move on. I couldn't be happier!

Marriage is a battle of the wits, requiring incredible stamina, tricky thing. Everyone tells you how much work it will be, just like parenting, but you don't really believe them. Especially in the beginning. You think there's nothing that will touch your happy union. But the reality is, all marriages see their ups and downs. The good news is that when you stick with it, give it all the love and attention it deserves, your marriage can thrive.

All goofing and marriage advice aside, I do want to announce to all of cyberspace how blessed I am to be married to my best friend. Yes, there are times when he makes me crazy (and vice versa) and I could fill a couple dozen blog posts with all the things I find maddening about him (and vice versa), but when it comes right down to it, there's simply no one else I'd rather spend my every moment with. This guy makes me laugh. He stimulates my mind. He holds me when I need to be held. He leaves me alone when I threaten to kill him. He makes me a better person.

I think the only thing that could come between me and my man is Greg Dobbs. If Greg leaves his wife and calls me, I'm outta here. But knowing how cool my husband is, he'd probably be okay with that.

I love you, Rob!

P.S. If you bring your laptop on our vacation or spend more than 10 minutes a day checking your Blackberry, there will be hell to pay.