The News Readin' husband and I are on the verge of our five year anniversary. I thought to celebrate this milestone in our marriage, that I should share the joys and shear bliss of being the wife of a hard hitting reporter/anchorman. Oh the glamour! Oh the perks! Oh he-alllll, no.
I have been had - hoodwinked - bamboozled, even. You see, dear reader, six years ago when I was living the dream in Manhattan hocking fancy yellow diamonds to Egyptian oil magnates and he was cute boyfriend pursuing a dream, the news business sounded exciting. Matt Lauer, Brian Williams, Shep Smith...you get it. Reporting live from the Vatican or perhaps running the London bureau for a while. Then the first on-air job came. And my massive reality check.
The western edge of Nebraska. Oh? Never been? It's stunning there this time of year - with all the swirling dust, blinding sun and tumbleweeds. But, I digress...
Looking back, I think cute boyfriend - now husband, was looking for a little company in the vast expanse that is Western Nebraska. So, I became Mrs. News Readin'. Eight months of hard time served in the Cornhusker's state - with the closest real city three hours away.
Four cities and three states in five years. We've lived in City K for a year now and in a couple of words - I'm adjusting. Not well and certainly not quickly.
So this is the beginning of a nod to the past - surviving a Nebraska winter at 20 below zero, learning that NASCAR really is the most-popular spectator sport firsthand and knowing that the phrase - "You ain't from these parts - is ya'?" is not a compliment. While figuring out the present and hopefully making somebody nod their head in agreement or laugh out loud.
Oh, but plenty of time for all that...the first entry is for thanking the NRH for the journey. It has definitely made me more fun at cocktail parties, an anomaly at the grocery store and the only one in my entire family who has ventured out of the confines of the Northeast. That's right. This born and bred New Yorker married a nice boy from south Georgia. Needless to say, no one at our wedding spoke the same language - but damn - they drank through the confusion.
So, NRH you will probably never read this, because the "interwebs" are for pedophiles and indie rock bands (neither of which he is - I might add.) If you had told me it would be this much fun on our first date in 1998, I probably wouldn't have believed you. And I would have ordered dessert.
Mrs. News Readin'
3 hours ago