“I have met a lot of hardboiled eggs in my time,
but you’re twenty minutes.”
- Oscar Wilde

I can’t wait to go see Proof this weekend.  I can’t wait to walk in, arm-in-arm with Kevin, and go find our seats.  I can’t wait to sit at intermission and converse what we would’ve changed.  I can’t wait to hug my handsome stage manager husband afterwards.  I can’t wait to go out with the large group we brought.  I can’t wait for those things.

It has been a long week.  I’ve been fairly reticent this week, for many vast reasons.  Most of which I can’t list here because of pending litigation, and I learned many moons ago that flapping your tongue is the quickest way to lose a case.  Not everyone has caught on to that.. so thanks for writing our case for us.

I am debating whether or not I want to cook for Thanksgiving.  As it stands, it will only be the two of us for the holiday, but I don’t know what I would do if I had no leftover turkey with which to make the best sandwiches ever.  So I may have to find a very small turkey and cook it. (I don’t even think Bryan likes turkey.) I also make some killer green-bean casserole, and Bryan and I HAVE to have cranberry sauce.  So, I dunno.. maybe we could be a newlywed couple and have a real first Thanksgiving.

Everyone always asks me that: “How’s married life?”  Um, it’s a lot like, if not identical to, non-married life.  I wish we were together more often, but because of our committments, that’s not always possible.  And, really, that makes our time together more valuable.  Last night, we had some AMAZING food at the Po Boy Factory (it’s quickly becoming our new favorite hangout because our food is always good there and we can walk from our house), then we made chocolate chip cookies together and vegged out in front of “Top Chef”.  Sounds mundane, but it was soooooo restful after the week we’ve had.

And today, my dears, is Thursday.  Thursday means cuddling in the morning because our schedules mesh.  Thursday means sushi with Kari.  And Thursday means “The Office” while cleaning house.  I love Thursdays.

I remember having wine on Steph’s porch last June after a concert in the park.  The weather was oddly still and mild, and there were light-in-bugs abounding.  There was a strong breeze which came out of nowhere.  And as we sat there and drank, I remember thinking, “Life is okay.  Whatever this is, I’m okay with it.”

And I still am.