This weekend I went to Ruston. I got in Friday night, stayed through Sunday lunch, and basically accomplished hanging some pictures on the walls of our tiny duplex. Someday, when it’s ready, you’ll get a before and after blog. But it’s not ready yet, so you’ll just have to wait.
In between watching the first half of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince and drinking some red wine on Friday night and going home on Sunday, Stephen and I hosted our first dinner party in our tiny duplex. I made lasagna and brownies and bread. OK, so I sent Stephen to the grocery store to buy the garlic bread that comes in the silver bag and shoved it in the oven. Whatev. I realized something that night though: I really like the 6 people I know in Ruston. But… they’re not my friends. Not yet. Not entirely. They’re inherited friends and while I’ve grown to like them all very much, I realize that they are first friends with me because my fiance is so awesome. Cause you know, he does the dishes. This made me think about something else: Life Before Stephen.
I was a single adult. As in, lived alone, had my own finances, had my own cat, drove myself around, made decisions alone, and had my own set of delightful friends. And then I met Stephen. He was a single adult too. You know, finances, car, friends, the works. Except a cat. He was deprived. Now we get to blend things. A lot of things. We get to blend our upbringings. We get to blend our money. We get to blend our friends and our habits and our laundry. I’m a little nervous about how this is going to go. See, sometimes I realize that I know so little about him. I mean, I’ve only known him for about a year. That’s not very long. He had many years before that. It’s a little strange, this whole getting married thing. This whole giant blending thing. I’m not really sure how it works. Probably in about 45 years I still won’t be sure how it works. But I can say one thing: in 45 years, Jersey will still be alive. We had a talk after Marley and Me. That cat aint goin’ anywhere.