Bad sites, good sites.

I just read a really depressing blog about horrible and sometimes threatening first dates. Bad idea.

Then I remembered this site, which is about the most beautiful site that strangers can participate in. Love it.

Oh, the irony.

Last night, after spending hours traipsing across Chicago Land, Tim and I settled into chairs at Uncommon Ground to listen to our friend Mike's quintet. We've heard them once before, and they were great---although the guitarist and piano player were sort of battling over comps. See how I used that jazz lingo? Like I know.

After spending the previous few hours on a mission, we sat at a table with our friend Kaye and her two friends, and chatted before the band started playing. While drinking half a glass of beer, Tim grabbed my wrist. Then he waved it at me, like, Hi! I'm here! I'm making you wave to yourself. Look at this total loss of control on your part.

And then he attempted to move my arm like a marionette. While laughing and yet staying resolutely on-task, he successfully got me to raise my glass to my lips and take a sip, then place the glass back on the table.

We both thought that this was hilarious and impressive. And then I said:

"You've officially moved into Ruth World, Tim."

"Huh?" says the manly and proud Tim.

"You have fallen into the 'I'm in public but I forget that other people can see me' World of Ruth. Welcome. I've been dancing alone to elevator music here for years."


And his face was like, oh, snap. And then he realized that he had been (seriously) using his wife's arm like a robotic stick to make her take a drink of beer in front of two strangers at our table, as well as the 20 other people at the bar, and the musicians preparing on stage. This, from the man, that leaves me hanging when Beyonce comes on at Home Depot, and crosses to the other side of the street when I mock tightrope walk on boulevard curbs. I'm turning 27 in April.

Heh. Got him. Did I mention that while in the car and stuck in slow moving traffic on the interstate, we also both yelled "ARNOLD! ARRRRRRRNOOOOOOOLD!" at the limo next to us because Tim decided the Governor of California was in the limo? And this went on for about 2 minutes?

Arnold.

ARNOLD.

ARNOOOOOOOOOOLD.

Celebrating the third.

The third wedding anniversary is supposed to illicit an understanding of the durability of your marriage. You are supposed to help the economy and celebrate this epiphany by purchasing something leather for lover, perhaps an alligator covered Bible.

Tim and I will be celebrating this remarkbly mediocre occasion by enjoying a home cooked dinner, a bottle of wine, and planning for our future (he doesn't know this yet). I am planning to not only discuss our financial planning, which includes some sort of IRA for his musician retirement, but to applaud his continued practice schedule and personal investment in his career as a professional. Long ago and far away (one year ago in Ohio), Tim promised me that if he did not have a job within two months of living in Chicago, he would get a "Joe Job," as in, Regular Joe. Starbucks. Office. Library. Boring and unfulfilling McJob. Nightmare.

Currently, he officially has two jobs for two different music studios. He has set a goal for himself to be able to pay for rent ($1,150) with his paychecks by December. Tim has also started cleaning the house without being asked or reminded. The last improvement will surely make his past roommates wet their pants; I assure you this is a huge and welcome change in Timothy's home life.

Honestly though, it's not that Tim has changed overnight, it's that I am now understanding what to accept and what to encourage, both from Tim and from myself. Even though he tidies up the living room, he will never carry his empty beer bottle back to the kitchen when he is retrieving full one. He will only eat left-overs if they are from a restaurant, and only if they can be reheated in an oven, not a microwave. He will smoke cigarettes until he is confident he can quit successfully. He will see the growth in his biceps after working out twice.

Last night we spooned on the couch to watch Reno 911. We talked about our non-plans to celebrate the third anniversary of our wedding ceremony, and we both agreed we had done a large amount of STUFF in the last three years together. And I suddnely realized that when we celebrate our fifth or sixth, we will probably have conquered much bigger mountains that graduate school, adopting cats, and two major moves across the plains.

In conclusion, I am so thankful to share my life with the incredible Tim.