August 22nd, 2009—

It’s been about 4 ½ months since Emily and I have been married. It’s been pretty unremarkable, so far.

We live in a 1+ bedroom apartment in Fargo, North Dakota. We have two cats, Gizmo and Kina. We’re broke. We like to play board games, particularly Scrabble, and watch comedy television.

We argue about chores and then realize it was silly to argue about chores, especially since it’s not the chores or each other that are making us upset. Just your average Mr. and Mrs. trying to make living.

Emily and I have fallen into a routine pretty quickly. Given that we spent all of the time while we were dating in separate ZIP codes, we’re both aware of how nice it is to be able to come home and just be there with your spouse. No packing, no planning, no driving, no yawning, no phoning, no chatting.

And given that routine, it always seems a little irritating whenever we get question, “So, how’s married life?”

That’s exactly how it’s phrased, too. “So, how’s married life?” I don’t know when that question finally expires, but I hope it’s soon. For the record, the answer is: “The same as it was last week when you asked us.”

There’s really only one socially acceptable way to answer that question. You smile, chuckle and say that it’s “good” or you make a joke about how your spouse never cleans up after his or herself. That always gets a hearty laugh in response.

I mean, if Emily and I were having serious problems two months in, do you really want to hear an honest answer to that question?

But, I digress. Our wedding was absolutely fantastic. The ceremony was fun, heartfelt, emotional and, quite honestly, a relief. After all those months of planning and nit-picking and fighting over colors and roles and traditions, it felt so good to have it all behind us. We were married. Done. Checked that off the list.

The reception was something else. And I will pull out a tired cliché and say that we could not have planned it better. The massive crew that came together on Friday, the day before, and Saturday morning before the wedding was unbelievably hard-working and gracious. For as much stuff that has to wait until the last minute, everything just clicked.

The food was delicious. Meatballs, of course. Liam gave one of the greatest best man speeches of all time—Of all time!— and inducted Emily as the first female member of the Guards of Vermilion. Shaina and Kali kept things in prespective, ruminating on friendship and love and assorted mushy stuff like that.

As soon as the band kicked into local favorite “The Guy Pohto Polka,” the dance floor was filled. The atmosphere was electric. I still don’t know where the whole night went. It was simply a blur. Emily let me play my three songs with Attaboy –“That’s all you get!” – but I managed to sneak in a few with Ben Durbin’s Modern Antiques.

Our brothers each set the gold standard that night. Peder ripped his tux pants wide open down the backside, dancing to the Chicken Dance, of all things. Ben set out to impress the ladies with his ability to do The Worm and ended up with a shirt full of blood spots after he forgot that his shirt buttons were made of metal.

And in a flash, it was over.

It’s tough to sum up an adventure like that. I still replay the ceremony and reception back in my head, in part to keep the memory as fresh as possibly, in part because every once in a while, I’ll remember something I’d forgotten, and it’s a joy getting the chance to relive a tiny part of the best day of my life.

Thanks to everyone to played a part in it. I feel so fortunate and blessed to have such amazing friends and family. Let’s do it again, sometime, eh?

Now… How’s married life?