bloomsday

Hello my love:

We dug out of Christmas. I must tell you my favorite moment of the season was you, behind the wheel, lurching the car in reverse as I pushed, rhythmically, into you. "Follow my rhythm," I yelled. We gazed across the frozen hood at each other, rocking, rocking, until we were free. I was screaming and grunting and pushing. The neighbors thought we were fucking in the snow-covered driveway.
We're married now. We made it offical at St. Colman, the poor Irish church, with our hero, Bob, officiating. It has not been easy, my love. But I am happy, in that way that only I can know.
Have you bicycled down a volcano after watching the sun rise over the Pacific? Have you snorkeled with sharks? Have you smelled death on the poor fucker next to you as you beg to get him out of jail? Has the ruler of your kingdom been outed as a war criminal? Have thousands of corpses washed ashore? Have you found the coin in the fish's mouth worth twice the temple tax? Life is an adventure, my love. A sad, beautiful adventure. Let's stay warm and healthy, and help those around us do the same.
I have much to say, but I've been distracted by life. I hope I say it soon.