Wednesday, July 21, 2010

This is my husband.

This person right here. This is my husband CPM. He has decided to join the blogosphere. God save us all.

For the past fourteen years I have been on the receiving end of many of his witticisms. He loves to make people laugh, often at my expense. It's part of his charm. I have often been told by people close to me that I am far too serious, that I don't smile or laugh enough. This is the absolute truth. You know something is funny if you HEAR me laughing. My typical laugh looks a lot like my typical scowl. I fear that I will end up looking like my Gram as I age: her lips were always pursed into the meanest face, and yet, she was (mostly) the sweetest lady (with a taste for candy that I sadly did not inherit...I could always count on her to try and offer me a lollipop that she had stashed in her purse, gotten from the bank teller.)

CPM and I met in College. While we had both attended the same high school, he graduated a year ahead of me, and with six thousand students in the school, our paths just never crossed. Thus, I had no idea who he was when I got to College...I was actually dating someone else when we met. On the day of our first meeting, in the dormitory dining hall, he sat at a table with a tray loaded with six different bowls of cereal.

Understand this: he was a commuter student, free loading with a mutual dorm friend. The unlimited cereal section of the dining hall was CPM's favorite spot. He was, and still is, a fan of the cereal. I approached the table where CPM sat, since I knew some other folks sitting with him, current boyfriend in tow, we sat, and I proceeded to have the best time. CPM cracked joke after joke, poking fun at my then boyfriend, making me laugh so hard that my cheeks were hurting. I should have known then that we would end up married, but it took a little time, a drama filled break up with the other guy, some miscellaneous group hang outs, and finally, a date to a gay dance club to cement the deal. If I ever run into the gay guy who cajoled CPM into kissing me (to prove his hetero-ness) while we waited in line to get our jackets from the coat check, I should hug him. Or punch him. Depending on my mood.

On his most recent blog entry, CPM writes of an incident that took place a few weeks back on our homestead. I am holding off on addressing said incident and its fallout for a bit longer. Due to my superstitious nature, I feel compelled to reserve discussion until certain scheduled events resulting from said incident have actually occurred. But once those events have come to fruition, I will let loose with all that I have been holding in reserve.

Until then...

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