Since we have returned from the most wonderful week in San Antonio, we have been furiously unpacking and trying to find our routine. Andrew has started back to school, and I have started back to work. I was worried that our sleep schedules would be completely opposite, but Andrew has gone to bed with me at 10 every night so far. I know that will change once he gets bogged down with school work, but for now, it's nice. I have to get up much earlier than he does for work, but he's been good - not fussy, yet. I know that we are in the "honeymoon stage," but here's to hoping it will stay this way!
The only adjustment that has been difficult is for the dog. Tucker, our two-year-old fox hound, has been mad at me for a week. Before we were married, Andrew allowed him to sleep in the bed with him, but I just can't. I am a light sleeper and Tucker wakes me up, and we have a beautiful, white, beaded and embroidered duvet cover that Tucker would ruin if he were getting on and off the bed. So, I keep the door to the bedroom shut as much as possible, but Andrew seems to always forget to close it when he comes in or goes out. There have only been a couple times when Tucker has made a break for it, but we're working on it.
Sometimes I wish that our life could be recorded like a movie. We have such wonderful moments that would fit in any sappy love story. Maybe I should save them all up and write a novel based on our life, or maybe I'll just chronicle them here. It's hard just to write them in a blog without building the entire scene. I'll just say that we have been dancing and singing, playing and laughing, reading, cooking, cleaning, and unpacking, and it has been glorious.
Last night, I tried another one of my concoctions for dinner. As I was driving home I suddenly became inspired to create. Andrew called it a "fusion" dish inspired both by Asian and Mexican cuisine. He set out for the Apple store to meet with his genius just before I pulled into the driveway, so I had the house to myself - the perfect environment for inventing. Tucker nonchalantly greeted me with a shift of his eyes as I opened the front door - he's still a bit miffed about the bed. So I took my jacket off, rolled up my sleeves, and pulled out the chicken. After about 20 minutes, I had done it. I successfully filled our tiny, one-bedroom apartment with the sound and smell of a fusion bistro kitchen. The skillet was sizzling and the rice was boiling, and I knew it was good. So I left things to simmer, and I went into the bathroom to roll my hair - Andrew and I were to leave after dinner to go to a friend's c.d. release party. Just as I rolled the last curler up and pinned it to my head that the front door swung wide open and Andrew stood there with his chest puffed up full of the inhaled aroma wafting through the apartment. He came directly to the bathroom laughing at the sight of his wife with curlers awkwardly rolled and pinned to her head, and he pulled me close to his body and we began to dance to the background sounds of a simmering skillet, kitchen fan and Rod Stewart on the radio - "Bring over some of your old Motown records, we'll put the speakers in the window and we'll go on the roof and listen to the miracles echo to the alley down below..."
The night was a success.
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