....it's not. It really is good and it's true. That's my new motto, and I'm sticking to it.

Last night was another wonderful night in the life of this newlywed. While in the middle of watching Spiderman 2, hubby paused the movie and said, "have I told you lately how much I really like being married to you?" I thought it was interesting timing because during my ride home from work I was wondering when marriage is going to stop being so fun. I keep waiting and waiting for marriage to seem like a complete drag. You know, the ball and chain bit, because that was my experience with my 'practice husband' almost from the beginning.

So, during our heart-to-heart last night I laughed at him about the fact that he 'warned' me when we started getting serious that this relationship will end just like all his other relationships. He replied by telling me that he now has new 'data' (geek!) and he's changed his mind about that whole thing.

I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that maybe marriage IS fun and this one ISN'T too good to be true. Yeah, I guess I have new data too.

Is it wrong to eat salami while working out on a stair stepper?

It occured to me that perhaps today's workout would be more effective if I wasn't eating fatty snacks in the process.

Today marks one year from the day hubby asked me to marry him. When we first started dating, he had me thoroughly convinced that this day would never happen. I accepted him at face value, and never pushed him for anything more. He was a 'confirmed bachelor' you know.

Every so often, he'd bump up the relationship status- always surprising me with each step. Then the biggie happened. He asked me to move in with him (we lived about 1.5 hours apart from each other, making it difficult to see each other often.)

I think my reaction surprised him. He was expecting the 'rush into his arms tearfully saying yes' scene. What he got was the "I have to think about it, I'm going to go for a drive." ......"By myself", scene.

I was raised in a very conservative religion. Although I formally gave that religion up about four years ago, my parents didn't. I knew that my living with someone before marriage would absolutely kill them and even though I have issues with my parents religious 'zeal', I still respected their right to feel the way they do.

So, I came up with a compromise during that drive. I told him that I would only consider moving in with him if it was a precursor to marriage and that we had to have a wedding date set within a year. He agreed to that. This was the first and last time I ever brought up that topic. I moved in with him the first weekend in September 2003.

I'd had two fake outs in the weeks leading up to the day he asked me to marry him. One of them was a beautiful weekend getaway in a wonderful posh hotel. He'd reserved the honeymoon suite with rose petals on the floor leading up to the bed. I just *knew* he was going to pop the question. I even poked around his suit and suitcase trying to find the ring while he was getting ready for dinner. Yeah, I'm nosy like that. Dinner came and went. Nothing. The waiter asked if we wanted dessert. Aha! I thought. He's going to have the ring brought out with dessert! Ummm, no. When we went back to the room, there were new items; an ice bucket containing champagne and a silver platter with a cover on it. "There it is!", I thought. I didn't want to seem eager so I let him lift the lid. Damned chocolate covered strawberries.

The next fake out was the day before the actual proposal. He told me to get all dolled up because he was going to take me to a swanky restaurant. There were classical guitars playing in the background and candlelight at the table. Suddenly he grabbed my hand and looked at me with tears in his eyes and told me that he can't remember when he'd ever been this happy. He went on to tell me that he loves every minute we spend together and how it all feels so right. I just *knew* that this was the moment. It was so perfect, well except there was no proposal.

The following day, we decided to just lay around the house in our sweats and watch movies all day. I don't even remember what we were watching when he paused the TiVo, got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I thought he was joking so I told him to shut up and put the TiVo back on play. I suppose he didn't quite get the reaction he expected out of the proposal either. I'm funny that way. He continued trying to convince me that he was serious. I continued to not believe him. I mean, come on.... where were the candles? Where was the music?

Even on to the next morning, I still didn't believe him so I decided to not bring it up when we woke up. He rolled over and said, "hey, did we discuss anything of importance last night? I had a little too much to drink, you know." Then he started laughing. I wanted to slug him. I probably did.

So, that was my marriage proposal. Less than three months from the day we moved in together, just over a year from the day we met. I'm really quite glad it happened that way because it proved to me that he took me to all those wonderful places because he wanted to pamper me. Nothing more. He proposed to me when I couldn't have looked ANY WORSE. That, in a nutshell says it all.

So, today is a special day for me. The day that the confirmed bachelor was a confirmed bachelor no more. I haven't regretted saying yes for even a minute.

Me and Marie Osmond. We're just like that (ok, now put your fingers as close together as possible). How close you ask? So close that we had a joint telethon last night. We were out to save our condiment resources. CONDIMENTS... you know, ketchup and mustard. Yeah, it was another one of my whacky dreams.

There we were, Marie and I, on TV pleading with people to please use the last of your condiments before buying a new bottle. We gave tips such as storing the ketchup bottle upside-down to get the last bit out. Uh huh. This is a huge tip, so you'll want to write that one down.

There are so many disturbing things about this dream. Why condiments instead of, say, the spotted owl? Why Marie Osmond?

And the worst part; we were both wearing flannel shirts. I almost avoided sharing that horrid bit of information. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was strange you know.

The day after Thanksgiving we all went out to breakfast. It's tradition. Pretty much the only tradition I like at my mom's house.

Mom: So, what theme are you using to decorate for Christmas this year?

Me: No theme, I'm not decorating this year.

Mom: What? You HAVE to decorate for Christmas.

Me: I really can't. I don't have the room since we moved into BJ's bachelor pad.

Mom: Well, let's just say you do decorate. What theme or color scheme would you be using?

Me: Really. I'm NOT decorating for Christmas. In fact, even though we'll have a huge house next year, I think that I like the idea of not decorating so much that I might not do it until I have grandkids. It's very freeing to not worry about getting this done.

Mom: But you just have to decorate for Christmas. I want to get you something. So, what theme do you like?

BJ: Hey! The biscuits and gravy here is great!

BJ... gotta love him.

Anyone see a theme here?