Friday March 5th marked our six-month anniversary, which sounds really sweet until you realize that, aside from our one month anniversary back in October, we didn't really take much notice at all of all subsequent anniversaries, and I only really realized that we'd been married for six months last Friday when I was raising my Double-Double in celebration at In-N-Out and looking for something to toast.

To marriage! And cheeseburgers! Hurrah!

Before the wedding, I wondered if I would feel different after the wedding. I couldn't imagine feeling different. I mean, I could imagine feeling the SWEET SWEET RELIEF of not having a to-do list a mile long, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't imagine feeling.....well, married. How would that feel? Would it be weird? Would anything change?

I asked and you answered. I read through those answers the way you might read through an account of walking on the moon: fascinated but incapable of fully comprehending. The consensus was this: it just feels different. But different how, I wanted to know. Can't put my finger on it, you said. Cemented. Content. Calm. Permanent. Partnered.

Six months in, I want to tell you that it is different. How? Can't put my finger on it. I introduce Sean to someone as "my husband" and I think holy crap, I have a husband. It was a smooth transition---no new home, no new name, thirteen years of knowing each other behind us already---and yet somehow everything changed. Only in the faintest, most imperceptible way, though, like one of those tiny earthquakes that nobody ever feels, the ones that shift the landmass just everso slightly. On the surface everything looks the same. But somewhere, under layers and layers and layers of earth, the world has been altered.


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Mar
02
2010

Good Old Days

In the early summer of 1994, when I was just fourteen, my friend Caroline gave me a mix tape to listen to one night. Actually, side A was a mix, but side B was an album she'd recorded from someone else, just something to fill in the blank space. I took that tape into my tiny boarding school dormitory, fed it into my walkman, and listened to it through my headphones in the dark. I don't even remember what was on side A now, but side B mesmerized me like a magic trick.

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I went down to see my parents in San Diego last weekend, where I did what I always do when I'm down there: shop with my mother, watch HGTV with my father, and eat as much food as is humanly possible. For some people, a week in Maui is what it takes to push the re-set button. For me, it's a weekend at home.

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Dyson DC25 The Ball

Look, I know it's a lot of money. And it's not just that it's a lot of money, it's that it's a lot of money for a vacuum. But Internet, I am not lying to you when I say that the Dyson we bought a few months ago has actually changed my life. I have become a person who---wait for it---CANNOT WAIT TO CLEAN THE HOUSE. I know! It's grotesque! What kind of weirdo am I? But somehow, cleaning the house with the Dyson is so extraordinarily satisfying---be gone, cat hair!

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I got some weird looks this morning as I walked from my desk to the office kitchen. And then I got a few more when I walked from my desk to the office bathroom.

Awesome, I thought. I have a poppy seed from that bagel stuck in my teeth. Either that or my dress is tucked into my tights at the back again. I was even wearing the same dress.

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It occurred to me recently that I am forever singing the praises of things I like, but---with the exception of that horrible nasty sorbet that hoodwinked me last year---I rarely remember to write about the things I don't like, the things I think I'll like which then end up letting me down.

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