Sunday, October 30, 2011

Sometimes we should all just shut the fuck up.

(Men who pose with their wives, SEVERAL TIMES in Halloween costumes are really good sports.)

One thing I think I consistently say about this "experiment" is that it is really, really hard. Imagine having a relationship with someone that is condensed to one weekend a month. Laughter, love, jokes, arguments...all of the things that come with being a partner, but limited to 3 days every 4 weeks. It's ridiculously hard, and sometimes Brett and I fail miserably at it. We are like blind people stumbling about in a dark room, both looking for the light switch, but on opposite ends. THAT is what marriage is lately, so we were both grateful and happy for a bit of a reprieve.

The reprieve came in the form of an "all-fun-no-serious-talks" weekend. We literally avoided anything and everything that could be declared a "hot topic." Instead, we ate a lot, drank hot chocolate and walked through the snow, (what the FUCK Pittsburgh. SNOW. REALLY?) meandered through markets, cooked really foodie-lishious dinners together, and consumed a lot of wine. On Saturday we had friends over for a mini Halloween party (see above picture. Brett and I NAILED the whole house-wife/Don Draper-ish husband my humble opinion.) and we stayed out until 4 am with beloved friends, drinking beer, playing "bananagrams" and eating pierogis. It was exactly what we both needed.

There is, of course, a part of me that wants to talk everything out to death and lay it on the table. There is also a part of me that loves the fact that we cracked open a 6 year old bottle of apple cider that we made together in dating years and didn't talk at all. So much is said in the silence that exists between sips.

I go home tomorrow, and I am feeling a myriad of things. I'm feeling sad, nostalgic, empowered, ready to work at my career, and...a sweeping, haunting sense of something else I cannot really place. I desperately want to put my finger on it and stick in under a microscope, but maybe that is not always the answer.

Maybe sometimes we are meant to thrive in the comfortable throes of silence. Maybe we are meant to drink with friends until 4am with little regard for the demands of the next day. We should wake up in our friend Heather's clothes with our husband awake, balancing on the crook of his elbow as he watches his wife sleep. Life cannot be measured or understood or placed in any kind of box. Maybe I am wrong with this blog in my goal to analyze everything. Perhaps I should just take this weekend, pull it apart from everything else...and savor it.

I ate steak tonight with goose pate and brussel sprouts cooked in pancetta and glorious fat.

I drank really good wine and carved a pumpkin and I did not wear make-up or think about tomorrow or worry about today.

I was with my best friend, and we ate caramel apples and we tried not to think about anything but the moment where our teeth were stuck in those delicious orbs of cavity inducing goodness.

That's enough, is it not?

That's enough. And that is everything.

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