My marriage is great

My marriage is great. I haven’t been married a year. We were poor-ish like many people are. We would check movies out from the library and they would skip on our dvd player. We used our gift card to buy a cheap lacrosse set which we played with for hours. We made up games and hoped we were getting good exercise.
One movie we watched was about a man who loved grizzlies. Was his name Timothy Treadwell? I collected black walnuts to make ink, not knowing how potent they were until my hands were a nice warm brown for two weeks. I was trying to jump over geese while Stacy took pictures when I got the idea to jump over a bush.
Well this is a good story so let me take a step back for a moment. First I was doing three sixty jumps while Stacy took pictures. I jumped off of a little step, over gaps, that kind of thing. I took a few pictures of Stacy doing the same thing. That is when we saw the geese and some how it came to us for me to try a three sixty over a goose. I ran and ran. Geese were squawking, and Stacy was shooting. It didn’t happen. Then I saw a little ledge that I wanted to jump up on to. I did that for a while and it was fun well there was this one ledge that was behind a bush, I tried the jump and fell into the bush.
“Are you alright?” Stacy asked. “Nope,” as I started running for our apartment. Stacy sure was freaked. I knew that soon the blood would be flowing and I didn’t want the little soccer kids and their moms who were near by to see it.
I stopped and together we went home, washed up and decided that I need stitches. At the emergency care, we watched my muscle slide next to my bone while the doc had me move my foot. “I’m worried that you might have hit a tendon,” he said. “I am going to send you to the ER to see the orthopedic surgeon.”
It was 10 pm when we got to the ER, 11 pm when we got to our curtained room. The P. A. saw us at 12am when our lovely neighbor began telling her doc why she was there. “Vomiting, and vomiting and vomiting. Well I’m such and such kind of tax lawyer,” she said. “I had this case where there was a priest and he was in over his head. I told him he was going to pay a lot of money. “
“In the courtroom,” she continued, “this priest was on the stand and started projectile vomiting and vomiting and vomiting.”
“Oh,” said the doc.
“Then the judge started projectile vomiting and vomiting. And then I started projectile vomiting and we were all vomiting and vomiting and…”
“Oh”
“Vomiting and Vomiting…”
At this point the orthopedic surgeon had arrived. It turns out that there aren’t even any tendons that run alone the part of my leg that I had cut. They stitched me up, drugged me up and I went home. I am not sure if I’ve heard the word vomiting so much in one night. Maybe I missed the punch line.

Later that summer we picked and juiced cherries from her school campus, did the same with apples, and dressed up as a doughnut and coffee for Halloween.

On labor day we went with Stacy’s family to upper peninsula. It was a good time. We had a tent pitched next to her parent’s camper. We went to yard sales, tourist traps, and lived the life. One night talking in my sleep I said, “I got to go pee so bad, so bad.” After a little bit of time Stacy asked, “Bray do you have to go pee?” Now half awake I answered, “So bad.” “Why don’t you go.” And off I went puzzled as to how she knew I had to go pee. I asked here when I got back. You now know what I learned then.