I ran a half-marathon on Saturday.
Torrie snapped this picture as soon as I finished.
Look how much fun I had.
Monday, June 15, 2009
half-marathon
I ran a half-marathon on Saturday.
Torrie snapped this picture as soon as I finished.
Look how much fun I had.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Wedding & Hospital Gowns
Three weddings in four weeks will be capped next weekend when Torrie and I meet up with some friends in New York to watch my college pal Drew finally get married. It is the time of year I suppose, but I have had my fill of frothy punch and Ritz cracker based finger foods. I'm not even one of those "I hate weddings" guys. I get it. I've officiated a few. I grasp the levity of waking up single and going to bed that night completely committed to another person. But I am starting to doubt that the picture of a bride in a wedding gown defines marriage.
Don't get me wrong, I still remember exactly what Torrie looked like as she came down the aisle almost seven summer ago. We lost 90% of the wedding pictures in one of our moves. Keepsakes aside, the image is still pretty clear. The funny thing is, can a moment like that one that happened on our late summer evening truly define a marriage? A life spent together? Surely there is more symbolism to a marriage than a wedding gown.
Flash forward to this early summer Wednesday morning as I eat powered scrambled eggs in a hospital cafeteria. Torrie went into out-patient surgery about 30 minutes ago. It's a simple routine. Minor ligament damage. She'll be fine this afternoon. Yet you can't look at your bride in a hospital gown without thinking back to the promises you made to her while she was wearing a different gown... one that closed in the back. I also can't help but think ahead to the day when I'll sit in a waiting room during a surgery that isn't so routine. I'm sure that morning will consist of more hand-wringing than blogging over hash browns. Yet, is that day all that more important than the August evening I married her? It could turn out to be, I think, the reason I married her in the first place.
We've had a fairly smooth marriage thus far. I consider myself lucky to have married such a low-maintenance woman. I pay her this high compliment often, to which she usually questions whether or not it is in fact a compliment. "You get low-maintenance cars," she says, "not wives." Even still, there have been rough patches along the way. Even a reliable automobile needs the timing belt replaced I guess.
Yet I have found that it is in these moments where I truly find out just why I married my wife. All of that "in sickness and health" talk really comes into view. I married her to sit beside her after hip surgery now and, if I am lucky, after surgery 40 years from now. I signed up for the disappointments just as much as I did the successes. The rejection letters. The long nights trying to figure out the budget. The conversations filled with uncertainty on the back porch. The "what are we going to do with our lives" questions. I'll gladly take them all. I have a mascara stained undershirt that was painted by tears. I kept in the rotation and it is quickly becoming my favorite. That white t-shirt communicates commitment better than any wedding gown ever could.
Don't get me wrong, she looked beautiful in a wedding gown.
She looks even more beautiful in a hospital gown.
Don't get me wrong, I still remember exactly what Torrie looked like as she came down the aisle almost seven summer ago. We lost 90% of the wedding pictures in one of our moves. Keepsakes aside, the image is still pretty clear. The funny thing is, can a moment like that one that happened on our late summer evening truly define a marriage? A life spent together? Surely there is more symbolism to a marriage than a wedding gown.
Flash forward to this early summer Wednesday morning as I eat powered scrambled eggs in a hospital cafeteria. Torrie went into out-patient surgery about 30 minutes ago. It's a simple routine. Minor ligament damage. She'll be fine this afternoon. Yet you can't look at your bride in a hospital gown without thinking back to the promises you made to her while she was wearing a different gown... one that closed in the back. I also can't help but think ahead to the day when I'll sit in a waiting room during a surgery that isn't so routine. I'm sure that morning will consist of more hand-wringing than blogging over hash browns. Yet, is that day all that more important than the August evening I married her? It could turn out to be, I think, the reason I married her in the first place.
We've had a fairly smooth marriage thus far. I consider myself lucky to have married such a low-maintenance woman. I pay her this high compliment often, to which she usually questions whether or not it is in fact a compliment. "You get low-maintenance cars," she says, "not wives." Even still, there have been rough patches along the way. Even a reliable automobile needs the timing belt replaced I guess.
Yet I have found that it is in these moments where I truly find out just why I married my wife. All of that "in sickness and health" talk really comes into view. I married her to sit beside her after hip surgery now and, if I am lucky, after surgery 40 years from now. I signed up for the disappointments just as much as I did the successes. The rejection letters. The long nights trying to figure out the budget. The conversations filled with uncertainty on the back porch. The "what are we going to do with our lives" questions. I'll gladly take them all. I have a mascara stained undershirt that was painted by tears. I kept in the rotation and it is quickly becoming my favorite. That white t-shirt communicates commitment better than any wedding gown ever could.
Don't get me wrong, she looked beautiful in a wedding gown.
She looks even more beautiful in a hospital gown.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
An Open Letter to People who like Breakfast for Dinner
Dear person who loves breakfast for dinner,
I don't understand your mixed up ways. You spend a long day at the office or at school, come home ready for dinner and what do you find but bacon, eggs, and pancakes... at 6 o'clock at night. What gives?
I know you go crazy over Breakfast for Dinner. You are all like, "Oh boy, a big country breakfast for the third meal of the day." But if you ask me, I hate it. Sunny side up after the sun has set? No thanks. I hate Breakfast for Dinner.
It's just too complicated. First of all, what do you drink with this confusing meal? I personally like iced tea with dinner. But can you drink tea with pancakes? Am I forced into a glass of orange juice? What if I want a Coke? Now all of a sudden I look stupid drinking a carbonated beverage with grits. That has to be a potentially dangerous combination anyway. Kind of like pop rocks and Pepsi.
Not to mention what this out of whack meal must do to your digestive system. Breakfast was created to be a heavy meal, something a construction worker could chow down on that would "stick to the ribs" all day. It's not a good idea to throw down a short stack before you sit on the couch and watch 3 hours of TV.
Another reason I don't like it is that it isn't as versatile as you think. If you claim to be such a free thinker when it comes to your meal schedule, why not add Dinner for Breakfast to your diet? Who wouldn't want to roll out of bed, stumble into the kitchen and watch the morning news while eating corn on the cob? Want to do something nice for that special someone? They're sure to love chicken strips in bed. How about a nice hot bowl of vegetable soup to get you out the door? See, your system is a lot more oppressive than you realize. You hypocrite!
There really aren't too many clear guidelines on what menu items are allowed during Breakfast for Dinner either. I'm assuming that you are fine with bacon and eggs and probably pancakes. But what about donuts? Cinnamon rolls? Cold pizza? Cereal? Who eats cereal for dinner? I'll tell you who. Pot heads eat cereal for dinner.
In the end, I think I know what your problem is. You aren't a bad person. You are just a little confused. I can't blame you. You have probably been eating Breakfast for Dinner since you were a child. The good Lord knows that my parents tried to push the system on me. But we all have to come to a point where we can no longer justify our actions by claiming it "was just how I was raised." In the end, you need to get your definitions straight. You don't want Breakfast for Dinner. You want bacon and eggs for dinner.
You can eat green eggs and ham for all I care.
But leave me out of it.
Serving breakfast until 11:00 am,
Eric Epperson
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
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