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Joe and I are sitting in Crêpes: etc., our favorite breakfast spot in St. Louis. We're celebrating my week here with a stop at one of our favorite places each day. We realize this is not fiscally responsible, but we also realize that these are probably the only seven dates we will have for the entire summer. And we're also really close to the wedding. And we've opted out of graduation presents for each other. We're working this week hard.
This morning, Joe and I woke up, shared our bizarre dreams (He was running around naked; I was baking smoothies into snowman-shaped cookies.), laughed and nuzzled into each other. I asked how long he thought it would take, how many morning waking up this way, until it stopped feeling like we were on vacation. How long until being together could finally start to feel like real life?

I am stuffed to the gills with strawberries, nutella and crêpes. My mind is stuffed with scenes of Parisian street cafés and markets. We're getting really excited. Tonight will probably be our budget-planning evening, and rounding out the rest of our calendar, to make ourselves feel better. Luckily, Joe will be gone all day working. This gives me time to take a four hours for a nap to recover, then work on invitations...

About half of the invitations are done. About half have some sort of question mark with them. About an eighth have made me curse and throw away an envelope. I hope we have enough envelopes. I hope that this evening, while I continue addressing, Joe will put the stuffings into the invitations instead of playing a round of Madden like he did yesterday.

Don't get me wrong. I'm proud of my boy for being able to beat the Giants in the snow under horrible ground conditions. I'm proud of his number of touchdowns, but I'd rather not have all of the papercuts for myself.