Holding HandsI just walked down the street on my lunch hour to steal some WiFi, on my new Nokia N800, at the local Macs. When I walked past a couple, cutely holding hands and wearing the exact same pair of glasses. I am not a fan of horror, but this is what true horror is for me.

There have been certain characteristics growing in our marriage that frighten me. Well, that frighten Leah. I enjoy being lazy. We spend a lot of nights in. It is difficult to go out late—at Leah’s age it’s hard for me to keep her up past 8:30. We watch movies. Play video games. Not a lot of socializing. When we do go out we don’t tear it up like we used to. Or she used to. I have always been a saint.

I don’t know that we are a lame couple just yet. We certainly don’t have matching jackets like my parents… and I can only imagine how nerdy Brenda and H are (sorry H, needed to include you to burn B).

I promise this to all of you—I will never wear matching clothes or glasses or anything else with Leah. I love you, Leah, but we can’t wear the same stuff. It would be too much.