Three-Day Honeymoon

There are some things I'm pretty sure Robb didn't consider when he asked me to marry him.

For example, I'm really a dork. You can dress me up, paint my nails, and whisk me out of town, but underneath it all, I just really want to make lists of everything we do, document it with my camera in my red bag, and check for errors in the proofreading. Really. That's all.

I'm easy to please. I'm sure he would agree.

And every time we go somewhere (really only longer trips... not so much the grocery store), I insist on documenting everyone in the car.

So, there's me...

... and there's him. But he always does something less-than-bloggable when I point the camera at him while he's driving. So you just get me.

I'm forever waving my camera out the window to capture the scenery...

both behind and before...

...what's under my feet...

... and what's in my hand.

But it's only because they are my favorite things.

And I don't want to forget what I was drinking or thinking when we listened to our favorite songs.

Loudly.

I'm pretty sure he didn't think about the fact that I would talk to strangers and embarrass him everywhere we go. Everywhere. We go.

Ahem.

For example, it is usually not enough for me to take a picture of the sign as we drive by.

I made him pull over, get out, and take a picture of my Vanna White pose. As traffic drove by and I didn't care one bit. (Many of you reading this have also been thrust into embarrassment by my cockamamie ideas. And you know you loved it.)

And since that was maybe not enough for me,

I made him set the timer, poise the camera on a log, and then run to me while I threw myself into his arms.

Except then the picture didn't take.

(That's his favorite. I promise.)

So then a man pulled over and said, "Now that's just real noss."

(That's how he said it. Like Clark Griswold's Cousin Eddie.)

And then he offered to take one for us, and he wanted to take three shots to make sure we got a good one.

So I made Robb pose, again and again.

Our photographer even said, "Wait for it... and there's the arm."

And so we ended up with multiple shots of the very same pose, and all the while cars were driving by and I was making a spectacle of myself and my sweet husband. I'm pretty sure he didn't account for all this with the wedding ring.

But it's a package deal. It comes with me. I cannot be extracted from my extroverted tendencies, my spontaneity, and my ridiculousness.

I'm the sprinkles on his sundae; he's the string to my kite.

Good thing he likes me. At least enough to keep playing my games.

(Thanks for a good three days, you handsome man. I like running away with you.)

~~~

"It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them."

~ Agatha Christie