Tuesday, August 2, 2011
He Blinded Me With Science
This time last year I was a very happy girl. I had a sixties style updo, an amazing dress, bright blue shoes, and I was about to marry my favourite guy. At the altar of Elvis. In Las Vegas. After driving down The Strip in a 1969 Cadillac convertible.
For new readers, the full story can be found here. Or, if you aren't into clicking, here's the short version: The Man of Science planned our entire wedding, IN SECRET, making sure it included everything I liked and wanted, and then proposed to me and whisked me away to Las Vegas with one day's notice. And then we got married.
It was just the kind of crazy, romantic, retro, hilarious, fun fun fun experience that I wanted. No pouffy white dresses, no bridesmaids (except in doll form), no figuring out a seating plan, no embarrassing speeches (or my Dad showing the video of me at age eight riding a sheep in New Zealand on a family holiday) and no stress. I loved everything about it.
I have also loved, incidentally, this first year of being married to the MoS. He is dependable and hilarious and smart, not to mention an excellent person to share a home and some pets with. This is going to sound ridiculous, but my go-to assessment for whether or not a marriage is successful is something I got from the first Sex and the City movie. All the characters are whinging about how unhappy they are in their relationships and Samantha asks Charlotte, "How often do you feel happy in your relationship?" After a pause Charlotte says, "Every day. Not all day every day, but every day." Amen to that. It's not always a walk in the park, but I am happy every day. Happy anniversary, Husband of Science.