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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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It’s funny how time changes people. Gray hair, wrinkles, mall-walking. It must be crazy to spend fifty, sixty years with the same person and see all the different stages of their life and how they adapt to each one.

We’ve been married for not quite a year, and – boy – has this man evolved.

Yeah, he gets better looking each year, becomes a bit more compassionate and slower to anger. He’s a better person than who I met five years ago, sure.

But I’m not going there today.

See, five years ago when I met Evan, he was a collar-popping, boat-shoe-wearing, pea-coat kind of guy. He had better style than me.

Okay, that’s not even possible. But whatever.

Dude was preppy business, and it was all I could do not to tie a sweater around my shoulders and invite him to tea at the country club after a leisurely match of tennis.

But in the last 10 months, something happened.

Change.

And not the kind that you get after breaking a twenty on a Chai Tea Latte at Starbucks which you put in a jar on your dresser until it’s full and then you cash it in for a new Burberry scarf for your husband. Why not? BECAUSE HE WON’T WEAR IT.

I am not bitter. Anyway.

Change. It happened. And I blame my brother.

My brother, Jared, is a good ol’ boy from the country, who prefers a freezing cold morning in his treestand over, well, just about anything.

Also, he wears camo.

And while I certainly agree with “to each his own,” I do not feel it applies to my husband.

Especially when camo is involved.

My brother and my husband have been working together for over a year now, and they have influenced each other’s interests, even if unconsciously.

Jared has become more aware of current political happenings. You will now regularly find him in the shop with his earbuds plugged in, listening to Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh.

And Evan? Well, he is now a hunter of deer.

Welcome to the family.

I don’t really mind the hunting part because, honestly, I really like deer meat. Unless it’s Bambi, and then my emotional self simply cannot deal with that.

And the camo? I understand it’s necessary to blend in with your surroundings if you want that prized buck.

But this morning, the day after the day that marks our 10 months of marital bliss, I find my husband wearing … sigh … a camouflage sweatshirt. At work. Not in the woods trying to kill a deer that will inevitably be mounted above my fireplace.

If only it stopped there. There are currently bottles of descenting shampoo, conditioner, bodywash and deoderant all over my bathroom.

We are officially redneck.

So, here we are, five years in love, and almost a year into being Mr. & Mrs., and we’re already experiencing change.

I want to hate it. I really do. But even in camo, this guy is smokin’.

Besides, the preppy isn’t completely gone (this was just a few months ago).

So, as long as I’m never asked to put on that horrendous fabric, I think I’m more than okay with being married to a country man.

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The 33rd

This is Evan on his 1st birthday.

I didn’t know him then. Mainly because I was negative six years old. Also because he lived in Italy, and I’ve never been there.

But I did know him on his 29th birthday!

Will you look at that baby? (Christian, not Evan.) When did he grow up?

Apparently, birthdays 30 and 31 were not important, because I don’t have a single picture. I’m worthless.

But here’s 32!


Babies don’t keep.

And neither do 32 year olds. Because today, my handsome husband turns 33!! Thirty stinkin’ three.

Seriously. It’s time to stop getting older. He’s practically 40.

I mean, thank God he isn’t. But, almost.

But let me tell you something: this guy? He gets better with age. I mean, four years ago, he was an Obamican.


Thank goodness he came to his senses before Election Day, but – shew. Seriously. That was scary for a hot second.

And legit – how does he keep getting better looking? Is that a man thing? Because it’s not fair.

But I ain’t complainin’.

Not only do I love him more on his 33rd birthday than I did way back on his 29th, but I like him more, too. He’s good to me and our family.

I think I’ll keep him.

Happy Birthday, love!

P.S. I’m sorry you’re old.

 

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Each month, I could re-post the exact same blog with an updated title (On Month Three, On Month Six, etc.), and it would still be pretty accurate. (See the First Nine Days here, and Month Four here.)

This past month, we have still consumed our beloved Giovanni’s calzone approximately once a week (approximately, because there may or may not have been a week where we had three two).

We have still watched Wheel of Fortune almost every weekday evening, and I, of course, have still solved the puzzles first.

We have still been all “get out of my face before I punch you.” At least a couple times.

But this past month has been a tad bit busier than the previous Months of Marriage.

On the Fourth of July, we watched fireworks in the park from the back of my Mountaineer.

We finally found good homes for Wolfie and Hope, whom we inherited with our house. Hope’s new owner has since given me a (nice) lecture on the sugars and fats in dog treats.

Okay, lady. My dogs eat bologna and calzone crusts and cake icing. Leave me alone. 

A few days later, we left for Topsail Beach with the kids and Evan’s family, where I did nothing but lay on the beach for 8 hours a day and got un-Caucasianly tan and everyone thought it would be hilarious to make fun of me.

I stared at the beach and read A LOT, while Evan played PS3 with his brothers and the kids watched eleventy-billion movies. It’s funny how we each have different interpretations of relaxation.

And, thank God, I finally had an orangeade from Andy’s.

The next week was preparation for my Mom’s birthday party, where Evan was the perfect husband, picking up, setting up and returning the tables and chairs.

And last week, we bonded over politics. We (mostly, Evan) have shared countless stories we’ve read about the cray things going on politically, economically, socially and morally in our country. We’ve laughed, scoffed and shuddered at the sheer stupidity and inequality of our government.

And then, when I posted the blog with my political opinion, Evan was offended by some of the comments and tweets directed toward me personally, but I assured him they were harmless.

It’s a good feeling knowing my husband has my back.

Over the weekend, we finally visited the new non-profit farmer’s-market-esque shop in town, The Wild Ramp, where we bought some locally grown produce and pork loin.

And I didn’t take a picture.

We’ve also been taking evening walks with the dogs and kids almost every single day after dinner, which is so refreshing. The weather is starting to cool off in the evenings, and it’s lovely (yes, lovely) to stroll with my husband BFF through town, talking and laughing and, once, getting caught in the rain.

Yesterday, we even saw SpiderMan at the Rose Garden. I was a little frightened.

Month Seven has been pretty perfect, even in non-Facebook-Representative / Real-Life standards. And next month? Well, it’s going to be pretty exciting. After being together for almost five years, we’re flying together for the first time.

I’m looking forward to that as a potential blog post.

 

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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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In the past 120-ish days, we have…

… dozed off to the lullaby of barking dogs almost every single night.

… contemplated sending said dogs to a farm.

… argued incessantly over who is worse of a person: Don or Betty Draper.

… learned if we can’t say something nice, to not say anything at all. Even if it takes a couple days.

… both had dental surgery (weird, right?).

… wistfully daydreamed about winning the lottery and what we would do.

… realized that’s never going to happen, and painted the kitchen from pink (I do not lie) to Oatmeal.

… opened our not-ready-for-anyone-to-see-yet home two weekends in a row to houseguests – and had a good time.

… said mean things.

… said, “I’m sorry.”

… cried over home videos of the kids as itty bittys.

… agreed we need to savor these moments more.

… not always liked each other, but showed love every single day.

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Left to Right.

The Hunger Games.
I was skeptical. The last time I read a book because it was a “super awesome” series and made into a movie, I wanted to poke my eyes out. This is nothing like Twilight. Thanks to my dear friend Dawn (who I miss ridiculously) for allowing me to borrow the books on my Kindle iPad app (confused?), I’ve done absolutely nothing but read for the last few days. So. Good.

McDonald’s Sweet Tea.
I mean, honestly, nothing can compare.

Betsey Johnson leopard-print watch.
My parents bought me this for Christmas, and I’m in love! It has a big, masculine face, but is dainty and pretty with the leopard band, a small gold dangling heart and a touch of pink on the time-setter. I hate days that I wear patterns, because I can’t wear this watch. Which means I should probably buy it in black, too.

Bar Keeper’s Friend.
Hello. If you have silver pots and pans, you need this miracle-worker. It literally erases (with a little scrubbing) the brown rust-looking stains and anything else that your pots and pans may encounter. It’s seriously amaze.

MAC Lipstick in Syrup.
I LOVE lipstick, but I’ve never been a daily wearer. My SIL bought me this lipstick (a pretty pink) for Christmas, and I realized I just never had the perfect everyday shade. Now – I paint my lips all the time. It makes me feel feminine and pretty, and it completes my makeup.

MAC Paint Pot in Bare Study
If you wear eyeshadow, and you don’t use a primer – you’re doing things seriously wrong. It keeps all your eyeshadow and liner in place all. day. long. Plus, this shade (a pinkish neutral) also serves as a foundation for your eye makeup, so it gives it an extra kick of color. Lurve.

Michael Kors purse.
I bought myself a little something-something last night. I think I deserve it.

My husband.
I think I’ll keep him.

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