Blogmo

At approximately 33 years, 7 months, 8 days, and 10 hours of age, I became a husband. The matrimonial plunge arrived nearly twelve years after I recorded in my Franklin planner the goal of being engaged by Christmas 1996. Good thing goals are flexible.

So on May 1, 2008, I married the sweetest girl imaginable, Mandi, amidst the sound of heavy betting losses among my former college roommates. Ain’t she pretty? For readers interested in details of the springtime ceremony, it snowed like a sky explosion and my best man forgot to show up.

Those perceptive to doings of the Bickmo (that’s me) may have noticed the till-now lack of Mandi-themed posts. Our courtship, engagement, wedding, and first anniversary have all failed to make the Blogmo. Some may claim I have herein failed in my husbandly duties. I have one word for these people: she forgives.

Mandi loves people and obese felines, and has a thing for cakes (visit her decorating site, www.mandicakes.webs.com). Anyone who knows her will tell you she is a wonderful person and a terrific wife. She is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.

So I love you, Mandi. Thirty-three years was worth the wait. You get four stars.

Sentence I accidentally created after deleting the center of a large block of text: Often a poncho.