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Posts Tagged ‘evan worrell’

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On this day two years ago, Evan and I stood in Times Square for ten hours sans food, a bathroom or a sitting break. But it was worth it. We watched the ball drop mere feet in front of us and kissed at midnight under the neon lights of Broadway-show billboards and the downpour of confetti.

On this day one year ago, we quite literally went down to a little white church where we said “I do” and kissed in front of our families and closest friends on the day that started the rest of our lives.

Today, we are working.

We have joked about how much pressure New Year’s Eve 2012 has on it’s back for us – the past two years have been so huge, we weren’t sure how we could possibly top it.

Turns out our normal is pretty fun, too.

I don’t know exactly what we’ll end up doing tonight, but I’m pretty sure it will be lovely. I’m so happy to celebrate our very first anniversary. Even if we’re celebrating on the couch with a calzone and alternating episodes of The Walking Dead and Parenthood.

This is my life. And I kind of love it.

And for your enjoyment, we put together a little vlog in honor of our anniversary. We answered the same set of questions, and didn’t see each others’ answers until we revealed them on video. It’s kind of boring, but you can see me make really weird faces. You’re welcome.

Also, the audio messes up and doesn’t sync with the video a couple times. I tried literally for hours to fix this, and did the best I can with my limited iMovie knowledge. Basically: deal with it. xo

Posts through the past year of marriage:

Engagement

First Week-ish

Month Four

Meet My Husband

Month Seven

Month Ten

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Wedding Day 2011, photo courtesy of Lawhon Photography

You have heard stories about the once-Manfriend and the now-Husband (same person). You’ve seen pictures of his handsome face. And you already know that FIFA ’12 brings out a British accent stored way down in the depths of his vocal chords.

But I’ve never formally introduced you to Evan.

My lovely readers, meet my best friend.

 

That good lookin’ guy? He’s a killer athlete, and is sickeningly good at every sport he plays: soccer, basketball, softball, volleyball, croquet.

Okay, maybe not croquet, because I totally kicked his tail last Saturday, even though he’ll say I cheated.

He has never tried hockey, but swears he will at least once. I can picture him coming home with a bloody, broken nose, arm in a splint and a head injury. Then again, maybe I worry too much.

Evan is a ridiculously picky eater; a trait he has so graciously passed down to his offspring. But he loves all the good foods, like pizza, calzones, enchiladas, donuts and chocolate milk (not at the same time), which is horrible and awesome for me at the same time.

His pickiness tends to be on the extreme side, though, to a point where he won’t even pick up a ketchup bottle. Unopened. On the Walmart shelf. Same goes with mayo, mustard, jelly, salad dressing.

My husband? He does laundry!

He does not do laundry how I do laundry. He often throws in a blue shirt with a load of whites, or a towel in with good clothes. But, I suppose I can’t complain. He hasn’t ruined any clothes. Yet.

 

He makes my coffee on weekend mornings, and somehow it always tastes better than when I make it.

He lets me drive the “nice” car.

He tells me I’m beautiful. And even when I’ve just eaten three Krispy Kreme doughnuts, he says it with so much conviction that I actually believe him.

This man is a good Dad who not only cares about making his kids happy and keeping them healthy, but also about teaching them right from wrong. Even if that means being a parent before being a friend.

Did I mention he’s hot? And looks like Josh Lucas?

Evan is a huge movie buff (no, I didn’t just call you huge, dear). Name a movie – he’s seen it. In return, he’s made me love movies, as well, and I look forward to nights we sit on the couch and watch even the worst of films.

Except We Are Marshall. I’ve begged him to watch it with me, but he refuses. He says, “It’s just one of those movies you can only watch once.”

But the real reason he refuses to watch it is that he knows we’ll have to watch my scene at least five times.

What? I’m famous.

The best thing about my husband, though, is that he is not the person I met five years ago. I’ve watched him grow into a God-fearing man, kinder, slower-to-anger, compassionate. He even says, “I’m sorry.”

Now that, ladies (& gents?), is a good man.

Sorry, he’s mine.

I’m looking forward to celebrating our very first anniversary this New Year’s Eve, probably while sitting on the couch, swatting at Piper to stop laying on me, trying to keep the kids awake to see the ball drop, and a sweet high-five across the couch for making it a whole year without killing each other.

That’s love.

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