Two Years

Yesterday made two years of marital harmony. Isn't that fun? It feels like many more than two years. As a married person, you feel you must acknowledge these checkpoints but I don't feel like an actually married person because I'm not yet burdened by a rigid partner nor have I learned anything particularly useful about being married. You're just there, with your friend, and most days y'all are giggling about something. 

We're happy we can blurt out "two years!" when folks ask but Hollywood marriages last two years sometimes so it doesn't feel like an accomplishment. We're on the same page about this so don't go thinking Brett married an insensitive pessimist. Last week we discussed our expectations for our anniversary. 

"Do you want a present?"
"Not really. Do you?"
"No."

We elected to put our honeymoon cookbook to good use and make a Portuguese supper AND we'd sit at a real table to eat it. Brett is still using our dining room table as his desk so we've been eating with plates in our lap since March. (We have lots of fun.) Earlier this summer Brett tracked down a favorite bottle of wine we shared at supper one night in Porto. He strategically took on this task in the summertime so that a bottle of wine shipped to America from a tiny, unknown winery in Portugal would get here in time for us to share it again on our anniversary. It showed up just a few weeks later, ruining Brett's demi-surprise, and leaving us in suspense to see if we actually liked that bottle or if it was just one of those nights where your tongue tricks you into thinking that this wine tastes better than most. That happens sometimes. 

We saved the bottle and had a taste last night. I'm happy to report that it's great and we feel smug and embarrassed and tickled that we have "a wine".

So we ate supper and I put on my dress (why only wear it once?) and we lightly mused about our life together. 

"You're a great person to have around."

"I love our life."

"Well great!"

"You happy?"

"Yeah! You?"

"Yep!"

"Ok."

"Good!"

The worst part of being married is waiting around for them to make decisions. Especially when you've already made the decision and you only asked to be polite, because you already know what they're going to say. You need to create the illusion that they have free will. But now they're hemming and hawing and half the day passes. Then they finally decide what you knew they'd decide but it's 5 o'clock and you don't want to anymore. 

Sometimes you disagree about things and then you have to tough it out and wait for things to go good again. Marriage is a lot of waiting. Lucky for Brett "The Sloth" Eisenhauer, I'm debilitatingly patient.

"Oh Ms. Union! I'm so sorry, we forgot you were here! I'll have the doctor bring you right through."

"That's no problem. I was enjoying the wallpaper."

The best part of being married is peeking in on another person (ideally, your favorite person) as they maneuver through a day. What a strange lovely person you've married. It furthers my studies of human behavior with a subject that will tell me every detail about their thought process. Why did you place that spoon just there? What are you thinking about when you tie your shoes? Don't you think your beard trimmings will clog that drain? Walk me through your unconcern." 

Brett's happy responses to these kind of questions almost always make me laugh out loud which is what Brett claims is the best part of marriage. "Making you honk."

As I scrolled through Ellie and Caroline's wedding photos, I came across a big group photo and zoomed in on us, as you do, and I just think this sliver of us is perfect. That's the exact face Brett makes at me while he watches me stagger through a day, and boy do I stagger. Meanwhile I'm usually just so thrilled he's still here.