Back.

I have been meaning to get back on the blogging horse for a couple days now, but the last two weeks were so incredible, to know where to begin was overwhelming.

So my solution is to skip the reporting. Chances are, you were there for the Old Guy Beer Challenge, Rocky Mountain Oysters, an epic Flip Cup collapse, Conrad struggling to open the salsa jar while completely nude, sawdust angels in Deadwood, my shocking disarmament as Beer chugging champion at the hands of my new sister-in-law, the wheelchair dance, The Gambler, and, oh yeah, my wedding. No point in recounting a whirlwind of good times that you were most likely present for. If not, at least we will still have something to talk about in person. That and the honeymoon (hey oh!). Now that that's out of the way, there are some things I would like to say...

--Before it all started, my married friend Bernie told me, "Enjoy the ride." That's exactly what it was, a ride. As we pull back into the station of real life, I truly wish I could signal the operator and go through it all over again right now. (Sorry, I am a sucker for metaphors, even the cheesy ones)

--Everyone has their own lives, of course. Some were a week away from proposing marriage themselves in New York. Some came straight from their last final in Washington State. Some were pregnant and traveling alone. Some drove for two weeks to get there and back. One even scheduled his friggin' chemotherapy so that he could make it. It was not an easy trip for anyone. To say, "Thanks for coming" just doesn't even scratch the surface. I could not be more humbled or more grateful to all who made such huge sacrifices and effort just to be there, for us. And the same goes for those who truly wanted to make it, but simply just could not do it. I know you felt bad, but I am here to tell you there are no hard feelings and I'll use you folks as an opportunity to relive the whole thing again in pictures and stories.

--Back to Val demolishing me in the chug race...Wasn't that just astounding? You would think my manly pride would be shredded, but it's like losing to Michael Jordan or Tiger Woods, there's no shame in it. You're just thankful that you can tell your grand kids the story of how you once went up against the greatest. Seriously...I was in a chugging contest but Val was in a pouring contest. Nuff said.

--I consider my toilet-papered work station to be a badge of honor. I'm touched, guys.

--In the spirit of the great Bob Weily, I proud to announce that I am now a Scuba diver. I dive. With sharks.

--As evidence of my admitted status as a complete dork, the song I could not stop singing after said diving was "Under the Sea" from Disney's "The Little Mermaid."

--Music recommendation: Belgian singer-songwriter Milow, a.k.a. Jonathan Vandenbroeck. I don't recall whether I was lead to him by Pandora or Itunes Genius, but aren't they both Godsend technological devices anyway. I would compare him to a stripped down Joshua Radin. By stripped down, I mean less production...his voice sounds unfiltered or duplicated. Is that what they call that, duplicating? Probably not. I mean when it's two separate tracks of the same guy singing the same thing in the same key that exist only for, I'm guessing, texture. Anyway, Milow uses none of that, not that there's anything wrong with it. It's light, mellow (yuk yuk yuk), acoustic, singer-songwriter, pop rock with some nice writing and a voice that is not American Idol calibur (thankfully), but earns points for its seeming sincerity. It's probably not "fun" enough to earn my label of "CD of The Summer," but would definitely garner consideration.

--I have mowed my first lawn. That is in no way a metaphor. So it wasn't a push mower. So what. 'Twas still a vast green that I cut down to size, my friends. I had my red Joe Jost's hat, my Springsteen on the Ipod, my manhood claimed.

--Another first, and possibly last...I have flown 1st Class! Waiting in line to board in Denver, Nicole hears her name called on the PA. She gets out of line to get the scoop and returns with two 1st class seat upgrades, courtesy of the wonderful Charles (though we would not figure that out right away). Upon boarding, we were immediately asked what we would like to drink. I asked what the choices were and the very kind gentleman replied "Anything you want." Wow. So I had some wine for starters. And get this--I crossed my legs, resting the side of my foot on my other knee. On a plane, I did this!! I also reclined without the slightest hint of guilt. The whole experience was something I could definitely get used to. In fact, on all subsequent flights, I did inquire about an upgrade, but all flights were full so, luckily, the bubble of possibility was not burst by the reality of cost. Maybe next time? Maybe? No? Okay, but just maybe? One thing I noticed was that upon receiving the tickets, we didn't get back in line. We went straight to the front of the line in the priority line thingy and we didn't even think about it. What does that say about us, I fear. Ah screw it, bless you, Charles!

--First time it hit me that I am really, truly, completely married: On the plane en route to honeymoon. Getting up to ask the flight attendant (I started typing "steward...") for a Diet Coke, I explained that "My wife feels a migraine coming on." Ding! "My Wife." That was me saying that. The thing about the term "wife" is that it's so general. "Girlfriend" most likely means you have been seeing each other for 1 month-4 years, give or take. Obviously, there are exceptions. "Fiance" clearly implies where you are in the relationship and more or less when too, 7-18 months from tying the know. "Wife," however, could mean you're on your honeymoon or your 50th anniversary. I think there should be another term used for the early stages of marriage. There's "newlywed," of course, but you don't address someone as "my newlywed." One term I know I am going to get a lot of mileage out of......."Wifey."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing much, just sittin' here wif my wifey."

You can imagine the possibilities.