Second Anniversary

Last week was mine and Conlin's second anniversary.

As this is clearly a sign of marriage expertise, I'm guessing you want advice.
Maybe you're hoping I'll offer up some quick and delicious meal plans. To you, I thank for the undeserved faith in my domestic skills. Conlin typically scrounges for meals at his parents', as cooking was not a skill I was blessed with and, even more unfortunately, not one I truly desire to master (I'm too picky to be a good cook).
Maybe you're hoping I'll offer up laundry secrets. That I can do. My secret? Conlin. For the last year he's been my go-to laundry guy (mostly because we're living next door to his parents, so it's more comfortable for him to sneakily use their washer and dryer...but still I acknowledge I am quite lucky in this arena). I know what you're probably thinking at this point: your husband does the laundry and YOU STILL DON'T COOK FOR HIM?? Trust me, he prefers I don't try. Once, the meal I made was so inedible we ordered pizza instead forcing it down.

Now you're starting to see why I don't have a 'domestic help' blog, huh?

Anyway, two years does not make one an expert on anything, really.
I don't know if there's an age that would make anyone an 'expert' on marriage. It's going to be different for everyone.

I married a great guy. And we're pretty happy together.

For us, there's no big secret to making it work. We just try to be nice to each other. And I have to admit, I have this marriage thing pretty easy. I couldn't have asked for a more understanding, funny, loving, easy-to-get-along with partner. (His looks certainly don't hurt, either). This has definitely been the best two years of my life. Conlin says the best two years of his life are still his mission, but this is a close second.

(That was a joke--he said no such thing. The other day Conlin told me he was going to start a blog, 'shiz my wife says', to refute my blog rambles. I would love to read that, wouldn't you?).

I hope you all find yourselves a Conlin someday. Or continue to appreciate the one you have.

This is how my brain works.

I was walking up one of the maaaaany flights of stairs at BYU today and thought, "I bet, in Hell, you have to walk up an eternal flight of stairs. And that's all you do...walk and walk. Oh, and everyone has asthma. And Satan has made it so whoever's in front of you has gas. And the person next to you smells like hot dogs. And you just have to keep climbing those stairs..."

I know. I'm weird.

How to respond?

Someone just told me I look like a returned missionary.
I'm not sure whether to take this as an insult or complement.

Does this mean I look like a mature young woman with life experience?

Or a homely girl who is unable to adequately respond to social cues?
(Speaking stereotypically, not with specific missionaries in mind).

Hmmm.