A couple months ago, Smitty and I had an interesting conversation. Life-changing, you might say.

Then again, maybe not, because it did revolve around People magazine’s sexiest man contest.

I kid, I kid! Okay . . . actually, I don’t. But I wish I did.

Our discussion had to do with Hugh Jackman, the magazine’s top guy. I said that I didn’t understand, that I didn’t get it. Because he’s such a scrawny, nerdy guy. He’s a little man, I said. And as a tall, not small girl, that’s just not appealing to me. And the same goes for Eric Bana, I threw in, just for good measure.

Smitty looked at me like I’m crazy, something that I will have you know happens on a regular basis. She claimed that both actors are not scrawny, nor are they short.

Wha???

So, as we do when any important question comes up, we turned to the internet. And, my friends, it turned out that I was wrong. Both Mr. Jackman and Mr. Bana are 6’2” or so. (No, I’m not looking it up again to get it exactly right. I have some limits, you know.)

[Random side note, because the rest of this post is so on topic: Jackman and Bana are also both from Australia, and they were both born in 1968. I believe this explains why they are essentially the same person in my brain.]
I’m here to tell you today that since watching Hugh Jackman in Australia, I fully accept just how wrong I was about him. As we watched the movie, I didn’t mention this. But Mark apparently noticed, too, and commented about his crazy muscles. (Hugh’s, not Mark’s. Sorry, honey.)

Aside from this revelation and a little bit of Australian history (which, let’s be honest, I could have learned from our friend, Wikipedia), I really didn’t get much out of the movie.

As a matter of fact, I felt exhausted, disappointed and a little bit depressed. I won’t spoil it for you, but not everyone has a happy ending. And if I’m watching a movie called “epic,” I’d like for everyone to have a happy ending.

I’m irrational like that.

According to 20th Century Fox, “Australia is an epic and romantic action adventure, set in that country on the explosive brink of World War II. In it, an English aristocrat travels to the faraway continent, where she meets a rough-hewn local and reluctantly agrees to join forces with him to save the land she inherited. Together, they embark upon a transforming journey across hundreds of miles of the world’s most beautiful yet unforgiving terrain, only to still face the bombing of the city of Darwin by the Japanese forces that attacked Pearl Harbor.”

And this epic adventure is almost three hours long. For at least the last half of it, I kept thinking, “Surely this is it! It must be over now!” I should have kept a better eye on the clock. Because it was not over.

I’d heard that this movie was supposed to have beautiful cinematography, and before we rented it, I saw it described as being similar to Romancing the Stone. And since I like that movie – and the whole bickering man and woman fall in love while on an adventure genre – I thought it sounded like a good one.

I was wrong. Some scenes were, indeed, beautiful. Because Australia is beautiful. And some issues were, indeed, moving. Because history is moving. But the acting, the plot, the movie itself? Not that great.

Then again, maybe I just didn’t get it. I’ve never seen any of Baz Luhrmann’s other movies, so it’s possible I don’t get him. Even so, I wouldn’t give this one any thumbs up.

In case you’re still on the fence, here are my favorite bits from actual critics:

The first time Mark asked me to marry him, I was 16 years old. We were both in high school, and I was pretty sure he was joking.

Three years later, he asked again. This time, with a ring that I’d picked out and a spaghetti dinner he was so proud of.

I said yes both times.

Mark and I began as an unlikely couple, way back in 1994. As one classmate so delicately put it, what was a goody two shoes (that would be me) doing with such a troublemaker (yes, that was Mark)?

She was right. Rude, but right. And yet, somehow, it did work. We worked.

Today is the 10th anniversary of our wedding. That stressful, exciting, exhausting, wonderful, emotional day seems so long ago. But at the same time, I’m quite positive it happened just last year.

(Because I cannot possibly be old enough to have been married for a decade. Right?)

Mark and I went to the same high school in a small town. We were only two years apart, but we didn’t exactly run in the same crowd. (Although, it turns out, he was neighbors with my best friend, Smitty, and another best friend, David. And cousins with one of my best girlfriends, Kimi. I said it was a Small Town.)

We met at a football game, where I learned that Mark had a crush on one of my friends. Three of us sophomores talked to this senior, hinting that we wanted a ride to the big party taking place after the game. My friend Mindy and I chickened out in the end, because, well, you remember the goody two shoes remark from earlier, right?

But it seems I made an impression on young Mark anyway. I’d like to think it was my beauty and wit (I remember liking him most of all because he laughed at my jokes. Because I’m funny, people!) . . . but I have a feeling it might have been the annoying way I kept singing the song that was stuck in my head that night. It was 1994, so it could have been worse. I could have sung Sheryl Crow or [shudder] Crash Test Dummies. But instead, I sang – over and over and over – What’s Going On by 4 Non Blondes.

Anyway, our first date was the Homecoming Dance. It was also my first date. And . . . as my mother dragged out of me the next morning, my first kiss.

[Cue the “awwww.”]

We dated all through high school and through my first two years of college. Unless you count the time I tried to break up with him. Or the time he tried to break up with me. Oh, the drama, the angst, the tears. The beauty of a long-distance relationship.

Since we didn’t deal so well with the long-distance (while I was in college, and he was working at home), we decided the only logical thing to do was get married.

I was 19 when we made that decision. A freshman in college. You can just imagine how excited my mom was.

But get married we did. And I finished college. And we moved. And changed jobs. And fought – a lot. And figured out how to live with each other. And remembered how to laugh together. And learned how to cry together.

Just being honest here.

In the last ten years, we’ve lived in three apartments, two duplexes and one house. We’ve gone to more funerals than I want to remember, including his mom’s. I graduated from college, started graduate school, quit graduate school. Mark started and stopped college a handful of times. We’ve both lost jobs. We shared dreams, wishes, ideas, plans and prayers. We adopted two cats. We had a beautiful baby girl. We traveled to Seattle, Colorado, Branson, Florida, Virginia and Tennessee. And, oh yeah, more than a few road trips to Kansas, Des Moines and St. Louis.

If I were just a little more tech savvy, I’d put together a great slide show to commemorate this occasion. One set to music. Yeah, that’s what I’d do.

But since I’m not, I won’t.

Instead, I give you a link to Dan Seals’ One Friend, one of the songs we had sung at our wedding and a sentiment that’s even more true today than it was then.

And, of course, a whole bunch of pictures.

As you can see, I was quite excited for my mother
to take a picture on my first date. Soooo embarassing at the time!
(And yes, of course I love the fact that I have it now!)

Mark’s senior prom, 1995. Yes, all of that hair is mine.

It was quite the trend at our high school to get professional couple photos taken.
And by “professional,” of course, I mean Sears. This was the fall of 1995.

My junior prom, 1996. My hair is pulled back in a banana clip,
because I just could not handle another prom night of bobby pins and hairspray.

My senior prom, 1997. Yes, I am quite pale, thank you.

My cousin Sarah’s wedding, October 1996.
Because everyone looks beautiful in sleeves like that.

My dorm had a formal dance. Spring 1998.
My roommate decided to lay on the floor to take this flattering photo.

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society black tie ball,
one of many work functions Mark has attended with me in the last decade.

Fall 2005. Or maybe 2004. After you’ve been married this long, it all blurs together.

Taking a nap during our fishing trip to Canada. I don’t remember feeling happier than normal, but when I look at the pictures from that trip, I can see it. I see how happy Mark and I were to just be together.

The Three Amigos: Mark, Smitty and me at the Coors brewery in Colorado.

Honest, we don’t drink that much beer. But apparently we document each occasion when we do!
Smitty, Mark and me at a concert a few years ago.

The Three Amigos (and a few others) partying like it’s 1999 . . . in 2008.

And a family was born. October 8, 2007.

Another hospital photo. Because we were there for a long time.

Christmas 2007. We still weren’t sleeping much then.

Summer 2008. Life was getting fun right around this time.

Christmas 2008. Mom and Dad had a great time figuring out the new tripod. Annalyn was not amused.

Thanks for taking this walk down memory lane with me. Have a great weekend!

After yesterday’s crazy long and whiny post, I believe I owe you some brevity and cheer. So, in no particular order, here it is, short and sweet.

***

Last summer I watched The Starter Wife (the miniseries) after the regular TV season was over. This summer, I’m choosing more wisely and going with Arrested Development. I’ve watched the first three episodes, and I’m happy to say I’m hooked.

***

Annalyn has had a fever, off and on, for the past three days. I ended up staying home with her yesterday afternoon, and aside from the crying jags and burning forehead, she was perfectly adorable. She’s starting to speak in two-word sentences, and they’re just so sweet: “Bye-bye, Daddy.” “Thank you, Mommy.”

***

Staying home with Annalyn reminded me of the dilemma that is daytime television, in particular, the 3:00 hour. How can one possibly choose between Ellen and What I Like About You?

***

I went to the grocery store to buy some chicken. My whole purpose for going out, to the store, was to get a bag of chicken. I came home with pudding, refried beans, bananas and bagels, making this the second week in a row that I won’t be able to participate in Jessie’s Friday Family Recipes carnival. Because I need chicken for my recipe. And I want to take pictures.

This blogging life is so complicated.

***

I forgot to include in yesterday’s post (the one I should have named, “The weekend was long. This post is longer.”) that we went to the park on Sunday afternoon and had a great time. Of course, you know by “had a great time,” I mean that I got some great pictures. So now, because you’ve been so kind to read this random rambling mess, I present to you pictures from last weekend: