I’m no longer planning goodie baskets and guest lists. For months, real life was put on hold as I neglected class reading, forgot about writing and turned my thoughts to dress sizes, bouquets and veils. I’m proud to say that that I only had one major conniption along the way that involved the transport of cake stands. My deepest apologies to Matt, Buffalo Wild Wings and, of course, my ever-understanding husband. Since the whole rigmarole is over, it’s been difficult to get back into the flow things. The other day I signed my new name about twenty times to regain control of my signature and delete years of automation. Reclaiming control of one’s hand is a detail I’d never considered.
During the short period of time I’ve been married, I’ve already learned that H and I will never be able to maintain a proper balance. While I don’t think this will create any long-term problems between us, I think it’s important to discuss and examine. It always starts out perfectly fine with 8 hot dogs and 8 buns, but somewhere along the road I will eat a hot dog without a bun. Before living with H, I’d never considered the fate of the forgotten bun – that manufacturers intended each hot dog to be nestled between soft, white bread. While H doesn’t seem to follow any particular order in his other consumption habits, throwing off the bun to hot dog ratio seems to upset his culinary sensibilities. While I know that relationships are about compromise, I don’t believe that I can stop my naked hot dog consumption. As bizarre (and perhaps unappetizing) as it may seem to some – sometimes I enjoy a naked hot dog. I boil it, pick it up between my thumb and index finger, wobble it around a little and eat it. Weird? Probably. Satisfying? Always. I don’t even need the ketchup.
I’m not sure where this leaves us…except that there’s always a little imbalance in life. I’m not sure what it means to be married yet, either. But, I do know I will continue eating hot dogs without buns. The other night, I took the lonely buns, speared them with butter, garlic and salt, put them under the boiler, and called it garlic bread. Maybe that’s what being married means…Turning hot dog buns into garlic bread.