it’s probably a poor idea to throw a baseball mitt at your husband’s head (even if he deserves it)

This is how the "Welcome to America and Our Awesomeness/Congratulations on Fleeing Canada" sign should have looked.

Justin is at work.  I am not.  Current mood: Lazy.  Major accomplishments for the day -- coming in 1st in a big online poker tourney, which always makes me feel good, and doing a load of laundry.  Impressive.  A post is just the thing to complete my industrious trifecta.

The two of us had a really fun weekend.  Yesterday we bought J a mitt and went down to Cornwall Park to play catch for a while.  We also brought a blanket and read for a while once my arm got tired (I try WAY too hard not to throw like a girl, which wears me out rather quickly).  Justin bought Love in the Time of Cholera during our last used book binge, but I picked it up first and am really enjoying the read.

Someone, I won't say WHO (it was Justin), decided it would be a good idea to start a grass fight, pinning me down and throwing fistfuls of torn grass in my face and hair.  The struggle probably lasted a little longer than it should have, with me struggling against this big dumb animal and his ape-like arms.  Not fair.  I lose EVERY wrestling match.  I decided the only just retribution for grass down my pants and shirt was to throw his shoes as far as I could, and then throw his mitt at him as he ran to retrieve them. 

Unfortunately, it hit him right in the neck/head area -- not the hind-quarters area as I'd intended -- and the firstborn-sibling pleasure of having "gotten" the other person disolved quickly into "Oh, crap, that probably hurt.  I bet I'm going to get busted."  Although a look of irritation immediately crossed his face, as in "I can't believe you just did that -- what the hell is wrong with you?", it was fleeting, and we proceeded to enjoy the rest of our slow and easy-going afternoon.

We've been married eight months now, and I am having the time of my life.  I don't want to get too "mushy-gushy," as my brother and I used to call it when we were little, but I am so deeply grateful to have such a companion.  I'm not sure what I thought married life would be like, but I sure didn't expect to laugh this often or play this hard.  What a playmate I got in my husband, jumping on the bed to wake me up from a nap, yelling, "Wake up!  I want you to come play with me!!"  I didn't expect to hear "I love you, Cuteface!" -- or so many reasons why -- so regularly and with such heartfeltness.   I didn't expect to be so like-minded with someone, or to be able to find such easy compromises in the areas where we differ.  Justin dispenses grace to me so easily, it's impossible for me not to know how loved I am.  We have our moments, to be sure, but they are few and far between, and the rest is so... easy.  Fun.  Deeply satisfying.

I keep on looking around, going, "How, exactly, did this become my life?"  I'm trying my best not to take it for granted, to savor each moment's sweetness.

Yes, even pinned down on a blanket with a mouth full of grass.