Married Life

After Kory was deployed, I'd run into friends at the grocery store and they'd stop to say congratulations on getting married, etc. For some reason, it is programmed into people to ask, "So how do you like married life?" even when they know your husband is deployed and you are, in fact, living alone. And I'd answer, "I love it! It's just like being single except I never have to find a date, but he's always giving me rainchecks." That would provoke a sort of sheepish look and I'd go on, "No, really, I love married life. I'd like to do it some more...."

Now that Kory's home, it's back to married life, and it really is wonderful. Of course, there's a bit of a learning curve going for both of us right now due to leftover deployment residue. But I've found that the moments where we sit down to have a good conversation and talk about what's going on in our heads and between us as a result are some of the best moments between us, where I see how well we communicate, how much we care for each other, and how the desire to be good to one another and to put our tiny family first runs beneath everything we do.

I don't mean to gush or be florid in this - it's just that I realize that I think that's my favorite part of married life. Having an arm to hold so I don't slip and fall in the snow is nice. Having someone to chat with in the evenings is nice. Having someone to take care of is wonderful as is knowing someone will baby me a little if I'm sick. But I think it is the shared direction that I like the best: What should we do, which way should we go, what is the strategy that is best for us and for our future? It is asking and discussing these questions and then moving forward together. I think that is my favorite part.

Postscript: I think technically this post belongs in the other blog ('Our Idyllic Life') but I've been planning on setting that up as a multiple-author blog to share with Kory, and haven't done it yet. :P Blag.

Thanks Internet

Sometimes I feel there's a whole huge world out there, with so much to do and learn and express, and I just get to sit here and look at it through a lightbox.


Postscript: What's funny is how I want to be completely a part of it and yet not part of it at all. Richard Brautigan, this is why you are my hero.

College Registration and User Experience

I registered for a college class today. The whole process was a royal pain. Working full time compounds the issue, but the concept here is still bad.

Sidenote, this is the last class I need for my degree. I'm finally taking the class regularly instead of trying other methods (correspondence, clep tests, etc) which have not worked as well as imagined. That means going part time at work since the class is only ever offered during work hours, but the degree needs to be finished, so ...

Anyway, to register for a single hundred-level class (History 132, History of the United States from the Reconstruction to Present, required for my major) I had to:

1. Realize that you cannot, contrary to what I believed, register online for classes here.
2. Log on to the place it seems you should register online, and print off a form (no fields on this form, so you print first).
3. Fill in class information on the form, sign and date.
4. Take the form to an advisor (mine happens to have left the school without me knowing) and have it signed.
5. Advisor relays information to the registrar and gives you permission to use the ... online ... registration ... system ......
6. Go back online and register myself for the class I just registered myself for.

Somewhere this seems ridiculous to me. Probably because I'm a senior, I've done my degree audit, I know the class I need, it's a one hundred level class, and I'm only taking one. Probably also because the last time I met with an advisor, I understood what I needed to do better than they did. Professors are generally busy with classes, not understanding *your* degree requirements.

It is a function of the work I do that things like this drive me absolutely bonkers. Gibberish-drooling bonkers. Really.

At least it's done...