April Fools Day is a lame ass holiday where a bunch of would be pranksters, Pucks, Lokis, or other trickers (read: unfunny people) get an excuse to flaunt their singular lack of humor over the rest of us. Sure, it has is origins in ancient traditions but only one thing truly redeems this day.

It is my wife and I’s anniversary.

Today I’ve been married five years. It doesn’t seem like it has been five years, time seems to have just flown by. Then again, having two kids in that five year span will certainly speed up the space-time continuum. I don’t know that the five year anniversary gift is, but my goal is that if I make this blog sweet enough, I can point her to this and get out of actually having to buy something. [Now, romantic guy that I am, I tried to talk the wife into letting me and a buddy go see Sin City tonight. Oddly enough, that idea didn’t fly.]

Five years.

For five years I have been attending U of S (University of Sally). Truth be told, I almost flunked out the first semester. I either misread or misplaced the syllabus. Come to find out (one of the little joys of marriage is how much you learn about yourself), I’m not the endless bowl of sunshine and laughs that I thought I was.

It was my idea to get married on April Fools Day. Well, my original idea was to get married on February 29th, but that got vetoed. After I thought about it, April Fool’s Day rather sets the tone for our marriage, our entire relationship. So I thought it only fitting that we be married then (the only caveat being that neither me nor any of my friends pull any jokes. Other than my best man tripping down the stairs as we walked out, we mostly succeeded). The downside to our sense of spontaneity was the lack of forethought that planning a wedding on April first would entail. Sure, the church was available, not a lot of demand for an April first wedding. However, as the fates would have it, the Final Four games were being held in Indianapolis that year. Hmm, all hotels within at least a 50 mile radius were booked. Obviously, we made it work. Even had people fly in from two other countries and a live reggae band at the reception.

So, I bet you’re wondering what my secret to marriage is? (Okay, you’re probably not: five years seems like a long time, especially when I’ve had many friends crash and burn after six months. It is no time considering that my parents have been at it for 35 years. And they still have stuff to talk about.) It’s my contention that guys don’t have to do much. Three things: 1) don’t get fired, 2) don’t cheat, and 3) be a good dad. The don’t get fired thing is about security, though it doesn’t have to be about money (though, that is the number one thing couples fight about). It also ties into making her feel loved (how that applies to you, well, mileage may vary). The other two should be self-explanatory.

See, once you get those three down, I’m here to tell you, you can screw up a lot of the little things. You do those three, and you are allowed to have your eccentricities. You can have your hobbies. You can have your quirks (have you been reading this blog?). Those nights where you come to bed at two in the morning singing Jimi Hendrix’s “Voodoo Chile” because you’ve suddenly declared that your theme song get tolerated. Those nights where you decide that you can only do bedroom talk in the voice of Mojo JoJo (uh, not that I’ve ever done that) are looked at as “charming”.

Okay, this “meant to be sweet” blog has, once again, taken a sharp left into “Lake Me”. Looks like I’m off to the store. I wonder what I can buy that says “I love you” from our local Quik-E-Mart.

Comment on this bit of rantus interruptus anyway you want (I don’t know where you’re reading it from) or just do so at my message board.