Sean


Jun
19
2013

The Last Hurrah

Sean and I went down to Palm Springs last weekend for a little last-minute R&R before the baby is scheduled to arrive in six weeks time. We wanted to get away, just the two of us, for a few days of not talking about the nursery or labor breathing or paternity leave, and to just enjoy hanging out with each other as a couple before we begin the rest of our lives together as a family. Yeah, I could call it a "babymoon," I guess, but then how could you ever take me seriously again? 

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Jun
26
2012

Hug It Out

I've become slightly worried that my husband might be doing some inappropriate hugging. Who do I talk to about this? Is there an advice columnist to whom I can write, hands a-wringin'? (Hands A-Wringin' is my new country & western band. I just decided that. Except I'm going to try and find us a Scandinavian lead singer so we can go one better and be Hans A-Wringin'. What was I talking about again? It's late and I don't think I should have added those three packets of Splenda to my Diet Coke and then chugged it.)

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Feb
09
2012

I'll Never Tire Of You

I turned 32 on Wednesday and it was charmingly low-key. I worked from home to mark the occasion—well, it was coincidence, really; my new company has a fairly benevolent policy towards Work From Home Wednesdays, and I figured, given the choice, that it would be more fun to wear my slippers on the day of my birth than not wear my slippers—and man, I do not know how I did that for six months. It was lovely and quiet and I was highly productive, of course, but I was also dying to talk to someone by about hour three.

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Feb
06
2012

Rocky Mountain Hi

They tell you marriage is hard. They tell you it involves sacrifice and compromise. And this weekend, Internet, I found out just how true that all is. I agreed to arrive at the Denver airport five hours early so that my husband could watch the Superbowl.

Did you hear me? Five hours early? At the airport? So I could sit in a mediocre sports bar and nurse a watery beer over my Oprah magazine while barrel-chested men bumped fists around me? I'll take that medal engraved with my full name, thank you.

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Jul
28
2011

Anniversary, One Of Many

It's July 28th, fifteen years ago, and we meet on a beach in Connecticut. Oh, we are still so far then from where we are now—married, a mortgage, nervous plans for that second bedroom—and it's summer in suburbia, and I'm just a bored teenager who thinks nothing interesting is ever going to happen to me, and then you ride in on your bike, and it's like everything clicks on.

After that, there's a line straight down the middle of my life: a before and an after. Part A and part B. Without you, without you, without you—then with you.

************

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Sep
05
2010

And Here's To Many More

Today is our first wedding anniversary! This time last year, I was sitting on the living room floor in my parents' house, making my bouquet. Right now I'm sitting in bed, drinking a mimosa and eating a pain au chocolat. It seems insane that a year has gone by, not least because I still haven't made a wedding album, had my dress cleaned (whoops!), framed that rather kind note from our close buddies the Obamas, or done anything with the postcards we had people fill out for our guest book.

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Aug
29
2010

How We Met, Reconstructed

One of the nice things about marrying a person you've known for six hundred bajillion years is that there's a pretty good chance his parents still live in the town where you met. My parents used to live there too, of course, which makes any visit back an exercise in fitful nostalgia. There's your old house, says Sean as we drive past it, and I crane my neck to peer into the kitchen. That's where my brother and sister used to wait for the school bus. There's the store where we bought our bread and our milk.

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Aug
18
2010

Things Have Changed

Your eyes do not deceive you, I do indeed have a new website. Well, not a new website; more like a gently and professionally buffed-up one. A redesign, I believe the kids are calling it, though I prefer to call it a small cosmetic surgery: the equivalent of calf implants, perhaps. Just a little boost!

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