Finally, I have put up the porch swing my parents bought for my
birthday last July. It had been sitting on the porch throughout all
four seasons.  Before the anniversary of it's assembly shortly after
my birthday, with a new 2x6" pressure treated header and plenty of lag
bolts and washers, it was finally hung from the porch rafters.

Interesting story about the assembly of that swing. Meghan and I had
just moved in to our new home, living in sin -- as we were not married
yet -- and were getting along swimmingly. That is, until the arrival
of the swing.

Now for those that don't know me, I'm a bit of a know-it-all flavored
with a spicy sarcastic streak. Together with a highly independent,
woman-studies graduate, my fiancee', dark clouds formed over the home
on Minnehaha for the first time.

Meghan had begun assembly of our porch swing while -- I believe -- I
was inside washing the supper dishes. Thinking I could help speed
things up, I dove right in, assembling this and that without so much
as taking a glance at the instructions. Meghan, in the mean time, was
frantically trying to direct me in the proper way to assemble the
swing according to the instructions, one step at a time.

Now, a bit of background before you label me as a jerk (which would be
completely in the right). Since childhood, I've considered most things
new and unknown as puzzles, ready to be solved. Directions and
instructions are a last resort, and only consulted when I've chewed
through the inside of both cheeks. I was a huge Lego(tm) and
Transformers(tm) addict, and the picture on the box was enough of a
hint keep me occupied with solving the mysteries of the toys for
minutes or hours. Perhaps this behavior was indicative of what was to
become of my life, but at the time, all I cared about were robot
planes and spaceships built from plastic blocks.

Forward to last summer. Tension was building as our personalities and
problem solving techniques collided head on. When competitive rears
its ugly head, my sarcasm gene and my all consuming need to win takes
over. I talk smack. Now, I wasn't trying to be insulting or demeaning,
and I don't actually remember what had been said, but the end result
was that Meghan had had enough. It was the beginning of one of our
first fights.

Meghan made for the bathroom, a place where I was not. Now, I'm sure
you're all quite familiar with "the bathroom scene"; this was no
different. I pleaded to talk to her, and she refused. I relented and
either went to the living room to watch TV or to the porch to finish
the swing; I don't recall exactly.

Fortunately for our relationship, I like to surprise Meghan with "the
little things." Earlier that night, before all of this started, I had
taken a green dry erase pen and wrote on the bathroom mirror, "I
[heart] You!" Yes, I know it's sick and sappy sentamentalism, but it
was as heartfelt and true then as it is now.  Unlike machoistic
muscle-heads, I'm not afraid to be sentimental.

Anyway, it was that little thing that allowed me to talk to her once
again. She left the bathroom and made her way to the bedroom, leaving
the door open. I hope the challenged males are paying attention here.
When your significant other leaves doors open, that means it's time to
apologize and grovel. Apologizing is often more productive, but
desperate groveling works as a last resort.

I discoverd in the following discussion with Meghan that the
know-it-all sarcasm bit reminded her of painful childhood memories,
and that it wasn't welcome that night. I say "that night" because she
does seem to enjoy my sarcastic humor most of the time, but we were
still learning how to read each other's reactions and mannerisms. I
had gone too far.  The bottom line was that "taking over" is not a
good thing.

I wonder now if the reason the swing hadn't been hung was that neither
of us were willing to spend any more time on it until now. In fact, I
had not really dwelt upon our first fight for some time. Now that
we're married, I suppose it was high time to get moving.

The closure, I suppose, was rocking back and forth on the swing
tonight with Meghan. We sat in the warmth of the street lamp light
while a cool breeze swept the porch. She rested her head on my
shoulder and we sipped red wine out of our new crystal. I love that
time of the day, when we relax and talk to each other about our day.
I'm such a night owl anyway; I don't want it to end.

Eventually, Meghan got tired before me, as she usually does, and
headed off to bed. I pulled out the guitar and fooled around for a bit
before heading downstairs to write this.

I have a good life. I have a wonderful wife and a cozy little home,
and I hope you enjoyed reading this. Good memories are meant to be
shared, and sometimes the bad memories, too.

Good night!

Chad