What is it? Do I stink?

After eight years of marriage, though, you begin to figure out certain things about being with one-another. Like how to tolerate granny driving. And how to put together furniture. Over the last several months, C and I have tackled several jobs, and I'm happy to report that furniture assembly is no longer the divisive activity it once was.

Oh, and yes, today is celebratory for one more reason . . . Happy Birthday, C!

I've always fancied myself an aficionado of the pop culture, particularly of any variety born or raised in the 80s or 90s. And while I'm not the encyclopedia of information that my friend Mitch is, I am, perhaps, something of an abridged coffee-table reference. Or maybe a pocket dictionary.

A man and a woman are in the lingerie section at Macy's. It seems like they've been shopping for a while. Maybe it's undershirts that bring them to this particular location in the mall. Or bras . . .

I know a man shouldn't make comments like this about his wife . . .

That said, we do have very different driving techniques, and the fact that the other doesn't share a particular habit has lead to more than a couple heated arguments over the 'correct' way to drive, and even once resulted in the cancellation of our dinner plans.

In case you were wondering, eating Ranch-style dressing that is one year and four months beyond its expiration date will, in fact, make you physically ill.

If you happen to be standing outside of our apartment door on a Sunday afternoon between now and February 4th, you may be shocked to hear the sound of a female voice shouting furious words at some unlucky SOB. Don't be concerned. The threats are meaningless. And that unlucky SOB is not me. It's the TV set. C and I are just watching a little of the football.

I don't think this would have ever been something I would have considered eating for lunch before I married Catherine. Now it's pretty standard afternoon fare for me.