I wish I had his turn of phrase

... but unfortunately, I'm not a skilled language artist like Patrick Rothfuss. So, I'll just shamelessly copy and paste from him. Valentines Day brought out the "gush" in him, and his girlfriend Sarah is the recipient of some very public praise and flattery. The whole thing is good, and I'm shamelessly (did I mention I'm shameless in doing this) cribbing his words. (Italics are my adjustments to make it fit.)

No offense to your girlfriend SAM. She's obviously a woman of impeccable taste. But she can't hold a candle to my wife.

My wife's name is C. She is, to put it plainly, the best of all possible wives.

But that's only the tip of the iceberg. She's hella smart, a great writer, and better at everything than me. She does community service, keeps up on current events, and makes awesome meals. Her hair smells really, really, good.

C is also hot. Beyond hot. I'm not even kidding here. You know when you see a geeky guy walking around an absolute bombshell and you think, "The hell? How did he end up with her? She's a thousand times hotter than him!" Well C and I are like that, with the main difference that I'm pretty sexy too.

She's so sexy that Homeland Security is worried about her falling into the hands of the terrorists. FEMA has passed a special set of laws requiring her to always wear at least three layers of clothing whenever she's in public. If she wears only one layer, she causes car wrecks. If she wears a tank top, men without protective eyewear have grand-mal seizures and passing women become suddenly bi-curious.

In less, the sexiness she throws off is like the radiation from a nuclear bomb. If we hadn't lined the walls of the bedroom and bathroom with three inches of lead, no man in Northern Virginia could wear tight fitting pants, and every woman in Leesburg would be gay.

Yes dearest, you're all that and much, much more!

First night in our new home

... wasn't last night; it was the Thanksgiving weekend while my family was down helping us move stuff.

I think it was Thursday night. Our old home was full to overflowing with family, so C&I thought it would be a good way to loosen everyone's sleeping arrangements if we were to sleep over at the new home on an air mattress.

We trooped over (in the cold) with our nice, big double air mattress and lots of sheets and blankets and stuff. The electricity was on and the house was nicely warm.

We started unrolling things and Charlessa noticed a little glitch in our plans - at some point we had lost the plug to our big air mattress. Hmmmm. That would make things a bit rough.

So I carefully ran back over to our old home (I happened to be wearing a kilt. Don't ask.) and grabbed the first air mattress box I saw, and again, ran carefully back over to the new place.

We unrolled it and saw ... that it was a twin-sized air mattress!

Oh well. We love each other. We can sleep on a narrow air mattress without divorcing, right? Right. Builds character!

We inflate it, get the sheets and blankets set up, and manage to fit together on there. We chat away, pretty comfy at first, but I have a strange sensation that with every exhalation, I'm sinking in toward the middle. Must be my imagination.

After five minutes, I notice something. My hip is feeling something under the mattress.

It's the floor.

After another 15 seconds of verifying that, yes, it is the floor, I say "Charlessa?"

She cracks up laughing!

Thus was our first night in our new home!

(Everything turned out well. We re-inflated the mattress and tightened up the plug and cap as best I could. It probably took until 3 or 4 in the morning before we started hitting the floor again. We're even still married!)