Q1 at Remington Family House

Images from Second Family Thanksgiving. Start to finish, clockwise from top right.

It’s been now almost four months since moving into Remington Family House. And, last I checked, everyone was still alive and in one piece. With the exception of Manni, who’s lost millions upon millions of hairs and counting. Today I’m pretty sure I wore more of his hair than he did – my black blazer now doubles as my fur coat, depending on whether or not I remember my lint brush. But I digress.

Here are a few other things I’ve picked up on this month:

You are a better spouse when you live in community. Like when I want to say to Steven, “Fetch me some ice cream. Right now.” I have to think about how that comes across to the innocent roommates in the room who would probably think less of me and marriage in general and I inevitably end up saying something slightly less crazy like “Hey babe, you know what sounds good? Ice cream.” Steven is then less offended and more likely to bring me said ice cream and both my marriage and taste for Tahitian vanilla bean prospers.

You become more like the people you surround yourself by. This can be good and bad. I live with five of the best people, so this is a great thing. A few things that I’ve picked up from my roommates include:

  • The willingness to open our home more often than not to both friends and strangers, with the full expectation that the latter will become the former just by doing so.
  • A morning routine that would not be complete without the WSJ.
  • A giant, rotating wardrobe.
  • A tolerance for animals that borderlines on genuine acceptance.
  • Flexibility with the things that don’t matter. Not that I would call myself flexible quite yet, but it’s become more of an active effort. I still wouldn’t get that Presidential Fitness Award that they denied me in sixth grade (solely based on my slightly below-average performance on the “sit and reach” segment of the test. This is the world we live in, people. Injustices abound), but I’m inching closer most days.
  • Steadfastness in the things that do.

Love isn’t a verb. It is a promise. It is a vow that you make knowing that you don’t want your capricious feelings/emotions to dictate your trajectory in life. This is true in my marriage, this is true in my home, this is true in the place I worship. This is true.

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One Response to Q1 at Remington Family House

  1. cleanlinens says:

    cripes, sister. i think you have the best words. so proud.

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