Day 47.

Dear New Husband,

I am so pleased that I became too infirm (I really should not try to be competitive and keep up with you for lifting weights. My back feels like Quasimodo's) for our date plans tonight. Though I fully expect us to try and go again, I enjoyed watching a movie and episode or two of another crime drama; calling our own playbooks: "That one is the killer! NO THAT ONE!!" Really. I don't know why we haven't been drafted by the local law enforcement. We could make a killing. . . Pun intended?

And I enjoyed that Blackmon and Weeden went in the first round, as did Wilson, and that we have yet another reason to dislike Boise State. Thanks, Tampa Bay.

Is it college football season yet?

But as much as I love the NFL draft, fighting crime from our couch and getting half priced pizza because the Rangers ran up the score against another team, again, I truly enjoy these nights with you. I love slow evenings - moving at our own paces and enjoying each other's company. Even if it means I'm slathered in Annie's Cheddar Bunnies, Aleve and a heating pad.

I love you,
Your New Wife who is way too competitive for her own good; because it gives her back problems.