How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Blog

This is essentially what TW looks like in every way.

The Wife* doesn't know this blog exists. It's not like it's intentional; as this is being typed I have no idea what the web address for this blog is. Which just goes to say: It'e been a while. Welcome back readers.

*This is The Wife's chosen and preferred blog nickname, in part because it signifies the opposite of our non-patriarchal relationship. This disclaimer is needed in 2018.

 This is not a mushy, gushy Valentine's Day blog. If you want the feels, head over here to hear about how we became a couple. We're past mushy and gushy, and honestly, that's kind of a problem.

TW is pragmatic. So is her husband. And after years of being together in a marriage, you sort of forget how to give the other person a romantic treat. As a result, we are pretty boring.

In fact, erase the "pretty boring" and make that VERY boring. We wake up. I drink coffee (shipped from Duluth). TW showers and does her hair. I do the dishes and clean the kitchen. She cooks breakfast (I do dinner). We drive to work.

My girls, atop Table Rock last fall.
We don't get out much in the winter in Portland because the sidewalks are covered in harsh road salt and we have a very, very dainty dog. We don't hike because the trails are covered in ice. We don't ski because the ski areas are far away (1.5-2 hours), we only have one car and we work 9 to 5, so weekday skiing is out.

We get ready for work. We work. We come home. We exercise. We shower. We go to bed. That's pretty much it.

That's just being real with you guys. I gush over my wife. I'm crazy about her. But it's easy to fall into the monotony of life.

So I'm doing something a little different this year. I do not like Hallmark holidays, and Valentine's Day is absolutely one of those. But TW likes it well enough. This is a woman that watched at least 1 million hours of Hallmark Christmas movies this year alone. A little schmaltz is welcome.

And that started me thinking: Maybe we actually should celebrate Valentine's Day, but do it our way. Then, over the weekend, I noticed TW plowed through 4 or 5 pieces of bacon whilst I was making food for the work week. And I started thinking about cooking a nice dinner for her tonight.

That's how I ended up in a moderately fancy butcher shop over my lunch break. Maple brown sugar bacon? A pound of that, please. Maine-raised T-bone steaks? Sure, we'll take a couple of pounds of that. Cilantro-lime marinated asparagus? Yep, we'll take some of that too. And I'm going to cook the bacon, smash some potatoes into pancakes and fry them in the leftover bacon grease. I have a flair for home cooking and clean living.

Action shot of me cooking TW's steak.
It's not likely to lead to mushy and gushy. After all, I spend most of my day annoyed at the human race. By dinner time there is a stew of annoyance in my brain. But tonight we'll mow through that. I'll torch a delicious T-bone beyond recognition, until its charred ashes blow in the wind onto a plate to serve to her because she likes her steak extremely well done. And there will be a bowl of bacon. Just bacon.

Sometimes we aren't very good at this marriage thing. It's been 12.5 years and we get in lulls. Like not writing a blog for two years. That kind of a lull. But we're stubborn and damnit, we love each other, so we're going to eat all that bacon.

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