Sean and I celebrated our month-a-versary on Monday, which is really just a twee way of saying we've now been married a month. I know! Can you believe it's gone so fast? Although, come to think of it, when you've known someone for over thirteen years, being married to them for a month is kind of small potatoes, actually. I'm pretty sure if he were going to reveal something shocking---He's really a woman! He's my second cousin once removed! Turns out he enjoys the music of Celine Dion!---it probably would have happened by now. Instead, we've just been chugging along as usual, in pretty much the same fashion we did before we were married, except now we have fewer conversations about whether or not to round the corners of things with my fancy corner-rounder.*
*(I rounded the corners of everything for our wedding: invitations, programs, menus, even the little stickers on our bags of salted caramels, which is a case of superfluous corner-rounding if ever there were one. I couldn't get enough of the corner-rounding, though! I love corner-rounding! It's bizarrely addictive! Anyone have anything they want corner-rounded anytime soon? Cards? Photos? Hell, let's corner-round your passport! Your insurance forms for the doctor! Your kid's permission slip for the trip to the zoo!)
Anyway, one of the greatest things about dating someone for such a long time before you marry---and knowing them for even longer---isn't the mutual foundation of trust you build up together or the significant life experiences you get to share, it's the goddawful stash of photographs you accumulate of both of you rocking some seriously misguided hairstyles over the years. (Note to self: YOU WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE BLONDE.)
One of the things I always knew I wanted at my wedding---seriously, I can remember thinking this when I was about sixteen---was a video slideshow of old photos, preferably one that would make people laugh and cry in equal measures. Since Sean and I have such a long and ridiculous history together---by which I mean we saw each other through the better half of the 1990s, AKA The Decade That Fashion Didn't Just Forget But Then Also Gave The Finger To For Good Measure---it seemed like it would be an especially poignant chronicle of our time together.
My brother Luke, upon hearing this, slaved for ages over a hot scanner to make us our very own wedding video, which he introduced midway through the speeches and played on an old 1960s movie screen my dad once bought at a garage sale. Internet, there was not a dry eye in the house.
Have to say, though, the majority of those tears were the laughter kind. Honestly, I wasn't kidding, I should never have tried to go blonde.