three years

This was the best of 30 shots. I'm not joking.

Post three-hour-anniversary nap. We keep it classy.


A couple weeks ago while Conlin was taking a bath, I was sitting on the cold tile floor, leaning against the semi-clean wall opposite the tub. Conlin began sucking in his nose and puckering his lips in order to imitate my "mirror face" (a term he coined early in our marriage and has since used to psychologically abuse me every time he sees me get ready). I snort-laughed. It couldn't be helped. I pleaded with him to stop in the name of all that's holy, but he puckered his lips with the determination of a toddler who has decided to disobey his mom. Finally, I stood and proclaimed, "Oh, that's it!" and marched out, turning off all the lights as I went, leaving him to soak in total darkness.

After a moment, I silently pushed the bathroom door open, struck a heinous monkey-like pose, and flipped on the light for a split second. That split second was really all he needed with that particular image. Then, in the dark, I struck my next pose. Light flipped on--Conlin got mooned. This strobe-light weirdness continued for a good two minutes until we were both choking with laughter.

And here's the thing about being married to Conlin: the poses I struck were enormously unflattering. Like, most men would dry-heave in their midst. But it's these moments--the ones where, instead of sneering or politely asking that I never contort my body/face that way again, Conlin laughs and looks at me with bug-eyed admiration, that make me so happy. He gets me. And I get him.

Happy Anniversary from one weirdo to another.