It's been TWO YEARS!

As if anyone knew. Okay a few of you did... but we just celebrated our TWO YEAR anniversary! In California, that's considered a milestone equivalent to about 8 years (Hollywood brings down the success rate, lets not lie).

So, instead of doing the "oh swoon, please lets go out to a fancy dinner that we leave hungry and angry we were overcharged for pretentious service and neo-classical american fare with the price tag close to our rent" and instead we opted to give eachother very meaningful gifts: The Gift Of Denial.

Okay, so lets explain. When I say the gift of "Denial" I mean this: I usually deny Chip the pleasure of ordering in pizza and wings to eat with me for dinner. My horrible stomach issues that refuse the consumption of such foods without putting me into a state of such pain and discomfort I'd rather deny myself such pleasures rather than suffer for two days. In the same category, I also deny him the pleasure of watching horror movies with me. Why? I don't like horror. I spent my youth watching things ranging from  "Faces of Death" to "Dr. Giggles" and honestly, with such violence and hate and negativity breeding every day just outside my door I kind of like to stick with things that make me laugh rather than cower in fear and cover my eyes.

(Shush, don't even bring up Dexter--that is TOTALLY different, I love that show and does not count. It's a "drama" not "horror," and don't argue with me.)

Now. As far as Chip's gift to me, he has also provided me with the Gift of Denial. How? Ahh, how good of you to ask.

Chip promised me ONE WEEK (seven whole friggin days) of denying me the constant kvetching I hear on a daily basis (i.e. denial of becoming "LARRY"--his alter ego. Yes, like Larry David)

So on our two year anniversary, my husband and I gave each other gifts that could not be bought in a store.

I sat down, ate pizza and wings and watched two (yes TWO) horror movies with him. And for about 48 hours, he managed not to complain about a single thing. That was close enough to a week. 48 hours in Chip time might actually mean no time at all, since time doesn't really exist, does it? (eye roll)

This, my friends, might be the foundation for how to make a relationship really work.

It's been two months, and we're back.

To my lovely readers, my apologies. I won't even try to explain where we've been, but it's been a crazy couple of months since I last wrote. We were back east for a while, I've been dealing with some personal issues...

...but now we're back. And better than ever. Or about 94%

Chip has started work on his first comp, which means he gets to sit and read for about 46 hours a day. Or, so he says there are in one day, but I tend to think he's just reading for 46 minutes before taking an hour break. 46...hour....46....hour....

That stuff he reads is pretty heavy.

So, lets begin by treading lightly back into the realm of our conversations. Recently, we had a lovely one. After I suggested he check out a new band I came across, he YouTubed them (Cut Copy if anyone cares) and realized the sound is right up his alley. VERY 1980's synth pop. (You can thank me later, Chip).

So on YouTube, someone apparently commented on the video that surprised Chip a bit. The conversation goes as such:

Chip: Someone put on youtube 'I miss the 80's, I was born in 1990's. How can one miss something they never experienced.
Me: What? That makes no sense. I guess it's like saying, "I miss the disco era of the 70's. Roller skates and the BeeGee's. Darn being born in 1980."
Chip: Jeez, I really miss the 1950's Brenda. Those were the good ole times.
Me: I know...McCarthyism and the Cold War....Marilyn Monroe and McDonalds' rise. Stupid birth years screwing up everything. So sad.
Chip: Yeah. I miss the dinosaurs.
Me: I miss the big bang.
Chip: I miss not being an idiot for the past 20 seconds.


Nice. Well said, couldn't have done it better myself.
(I'll still try, though...)