With love from me to you

My husband is so precious to me. He's a notes kind of guy. He surprises me with them often. A note on my mirror. Sometimes a note on my windshield. And even the occasional note in the refrigerator in front of the yogurt. Or like the one on my bag this morning.
It made my day. Little Love Notes are the best, no? The sweet husbands that write them are even better.
Check yes or no.

Sockpiling

Along with absolutely wonderful characteristics we discover about our spouses as newlyweds, there are also those little things that we uncover that, well - get under our skin. You know what I'm talking about - The Peeves. Maybe it's leaving the dirty clothes out of the hamper or the toilet seat up, but we all have certain little self-imposed guidelines for the other half's behavior.

For instance, I know a few things that Joey is particular about: wiping down the shower doors, my long hair in his hair brush tickling his face, shirts facing a certain way in his closet, me taking his good pens, etc. I try to do my best in these little areas as he does the same for me.

And then there's losing socks in the dryer.

This has long been a point of contention between us. By long, I mean almost 3 years. And by contention I'm slightly exaggerating, but what's new? Let's just say that it has caused some frustration for my hubs.

Now, my argument was that if one would not leave socks balled up in shoes, kicked under the bed or in exotic locations across the landscape of our house, one would not have this problem.

That was my case.

But then I started noticing that his socks were missing too. I would load everything into the washer, meticulously noting all the socks as they went in. And low and behold, by the time it came to folding they were Sock Singletons!

So, what does a new wife do? She stores all the Sock Singletons in the back of her own sock drawer for safe keeping. Just until they are reunited with their true love of course. No need to stress you know who out about the dwindling sock population in our house. Or confirm his idea that I lose socks for that matter.

And this cycle went on. And on. Wash. Relocate. Dry. Find Sock Singletons. Hide Sock Singletons. File a Missing Sock Report (MSR). And repeat cycle. For one year.

I was perplexed. I mean, I had heard rumors of the Sock Monster, but didn't really believe in it's existence. It's the housewife's Chupacabra or Nessie. But how else do you explain this?

I began to feel bad when putting little sock couples into our washing machine, knowing that the odds weren't in their favor. I gave the Sock Pre-Wash Address to all those about to embark on their first cycle. Look to your left. Now look to your right. Only two of you will make it out. And odds are, both of you will be Sock Singletons.

Laundry Life went on like this for quite some time. Our poor socks were shaking in our boots.

Anytime socks were brought up in conversation, I immediately broke out in a sweat. Did he notice? Thank goodness for replenishment during Christmas from his mom. I mean, at some point you just run out of matched socks.

I can't quite remember if the hubs began to notice that his sock levels were beginning to reach alarmingly low levels or maybe we were just folding laundry, but it finally came up.

He said something about how funny it was that we could never keep matched pairs of socks.

Mmmm hmmm, I said, so funny. Insert nervous laughter. It's over, I thought.

The hubs continued, saying that it had gotten so bad that he had...

This is it. My days of sock trafficking are over. The jig's up.

Wait what did he just say?

He said, it's gotten so bad that he started collecting stray socks and keeping them in the back of his drawer in hopes of coming across their match.

Yes, we were both sockpiling. You just have to laugh.

I immediately started a Match.com for socks. Over 25+ matches made!

Moral of the story? Don't keep secrets from your husband. Even if they're little ones.

Oh, and never dispose of Sock Singletons. You never know when their mate could be one sock drawer over.

No Shave November, Remember?

November

December

March

May

September

October

A few words about No Shave November and my husband.

No Shave November seems to last through June. And the prep work usually begins mid-October.

I have been duped. Ironic considering my profession, it's due to good marketing.

He's been quite wise to continue calling it No Shave November. The entire time we've been married I have been under the guise that my husband has a goatee. That's what I think of as part of his physical identity. But now that I have thoroughly assessed the situation and after looking through several pictures spanning multiple seasons, I have come to realize that I am married to a man with a beard; not a goatee. He shaves it off for only a few short months of the year and then hails in No Shave November as if it wasn't the norm. Clever.

Well played, bearded man.

But I'm on to you.

I have considered instituting my own No Shave November as payback, but cannot bring myself to suffer shame in shorts and a tank top at the gym. I may wear Uggs year round. Joey is not a fan of Uggs.

My BFFL

Today is our second wedding anniversary.

Can I just tell you something? I love love being married. To Joey. That's the key for me.

Joey is my best friend.

He's is the most anticipated, yet unexpected blessing I've ever received. Paradox?

Yes.

I had this picture in my mind ever since I was a little girl of the man I would marry. A mental line up of characteristics this guy would have. I think all girls have this idealized perception.

That's the anticipation.

I didn't get "that guy".

And I am so grateful! My husband makes "that guy" pale in comparison.

Sure, a lot of the attributes were on the list, but he made them better. It's funny to think that Joey is the one that I have been praying about since I was a little girl. God provided what I didn't even know that I needed.

The unexpected.

That's just how God rolls. Your plans and dreams are never quite as big as His. And they're certainly not perfect like His.

Is our marriage perfect? Nope. Goodness knows, marriage brings all selfishness to light. Isn't that part of the plan? But it is in those perfect imperfections that we learn what it really means to love. That's God's intention for marriage. A little glimpse into what Love really is.

So I am thanking God tonight for provision, grace and for giving me a picture of His love through my husband, Joey.

Just for memory's sake, Joey played the song below for me a few months after we started dating. While we were on the way to somewhere. I knew he shared it on purpose. Thank God I was in a moving vehicle, because if I could have gotten up and ran, I would have. The thought that the whole thing was for real scared me to death! But I knew he meant it. About six months later we were dancing in the picture above to the same sang. This time I wasn't running.

Two years and counting...

Going to the Chapel & We Almost Got Married

Ok, we didn't even make it to the chapel. In fact, the chapel didn't have electricity.

There are many things that come to mind on this day: weddings, hurricanes, and tears.

And then there are trees in houses, no electricity, lost lives and way of life, and picking up sticks, lots of sticks.

All the same, but two separate streams of thought. One selfish and the other humbled.

Oh the trauma that all of this caused. To think of the havoc that it wrecked on our marriage: the glitch in the brain when someone asks you when you got married, "September thir..., umm twenty-seventh!

That's it. That whole big hub bub and that's the only remnant. Well that, and the Ike commemorative coffee table book that Mom bought us for Christmas. Thanks, Mom.

When girls ask me if I could do it all over again, would I rather have a traditional wedding or elope, I just have to say that I'm not the best person to ask.

Now, the marriage? Yes, most certainly. I would always be ready to say yes to that again.

You can read about our wedding crasher HERE and see wedding pictures HERE.

We will be celebrating from today until the official day, September 27th. It's only fitting.

Happy Almost-Anniversary, Baby!

Random Fact #2: Traveling Muse-ician

Joey is so blessed to get to go on road trips with me for the rest of our lives. Why?

Because I provide running dialogue.

I read every sign we pass. Out loud. "Rhonda's Ric Rac Room." And then I ask a question, not unlike an incessantly inquisitive three year old. "Do you think that Rhonda sells ric rac only?"

This is a common answer to my questions: "I don't know, baby." I'm not really expecting any answers to these sort of questions, just co-musing. But like most guys, he thinks that this requires solving and that I'm really needing to know if Rhonda sells only ric rac.

Muse with me baby, muse.

Pulp Fiction

Me: I have to say, there is one thing I really miss since we've been married.

Joey: What's that?

Me: Medium pulp orange juice.

Joey: But you don't like orange juice with pulp.

Me: What? I buy the pulp-free orange juice because YOU don't like orange juice with pulp.

Joey: I like orange juice with pulp. I only bought the pulp-free orange juice because I thought you liked it.

Silence.

Isn't that about right?

See people, marriage is all about communication. Communication is the key. Think of all the bitterness that could have built up over the years if this hadn't come to the surface. I shudder at the thought.

Communication can help you avoid some major pitfalls in life. Like drinking pulp-free orange juice for 1.8 years.