Now, I do.
Suddenly, one person is the center of my life. Instead our telling our mothers when we have irregular bowel movements, we tell each other. Anyway, with this centered way of thinking, I've become somewhat detached to the social world. I don't hit the town on Saturday nights; I stay in with Dalton and watch movies like "Kingergarten Cop" because it's one of the only days of the week we can have a moment without distraction and be together. Therefore, I feel some outlet for family and friends to keep tabs on us might be useful, but this blog will mostly give us a way to keep track of our own experiences.
How rude of me, I didn't introduce us. I'm Catherine, now Catherine Bennett. Dalton Laine Bennett is my husband. He is 22 and I am 21. And those Nevadans who knew me from my childhood say we married too young, but in Utah where we go to school, it's entirely normal. You will understand if you visit. I'll write some inspiring post on our 50th anniversary that will make you reach for the tissue box.
Now, a little about each of us.Dalton: Studies accounting, aces tests without studying, 6'6" basketball player, San Fransisco 49ers fanatic, enjoys yard work, country music fan, has a slightly convincing British accent, good at following a recipe, overly prepared, assumes starfish position when sleeping, eats ice cream like it's his occupation, big brother, returned missionary from Chile.
Catherine: Studies English and journalism, wants to be an English professor, 5'6" former athlete, editor in chief of Utah State newspaper, acoustic music fan, speaks in tongues in her sleep, likes rainy cities, has a slightly pathetic Indian accent, writes and performs beat poetry, concocts her own recipes, emotional basketcase.
It's true, we are blatant opposites. It works perfectly.
We are catching you right in the action of our lives, too. I'm graduating in two months and will begin searching for a job of some sort. Who knows what will happen. Dalton will be stuck right in the middle of his college career, starting at BYU in the fall. It's that really awkward, uncertain part of life where you cross your fingers and hope some miracle leads you toward fuilfillment. But for now, let's simply focus on the fact that Spring Break is practically on our doorsteps and we are so, totally leaving for Portland on Sunday. I plan to lose my mind -- in a good way -- in Powell's Books and eat some seriously drool-worthy food.
More to come.
D&C
