One of the best parts about getting married (aside from eternal love and combined credit scores) is getting presents. And on of the best presents one could receive is one sent to you by a Goddess of the Mutual Admiration Society.

Familiarily, she goes by Spinning Girl, and she presented me with this lovely gift of feral fruit from local Oregon farmers Harry and David. And not only did she bless me with such fruit (of which I encourage you to read about the inception of Muthana's love affair with pears here), but she gifted me with this profound poem, as well. I read it aloud twice, because the words are delicious and eloquent and awfully true in the case of Michael and I. Also, I had to read it a second time because Michael was washing dishes and didn't hear me the first time around. Needless to say, it is quite wonderful, as is Spinning Girl, and I simply must say that I know Spinning Girl is following as the stars, as it were, in a patient and noiseless way, and so she shall also reap those stars on some moonlit night, and we shall rejoice for her.
As it is, the pears have yet to ripen fully, and so I stash them in their box and await their blossoming, and drift by them, sniffing them for ripeness, waiting, constantly waiting for the chance to sink my two very large front teeth into the juicy meat and flesh of the tenderest, sweetest fruit available.
So while I cannot be in Spinning Girl's presence in the flesh, so to speak, I will do the following:
-Take a sip of hot apple cider spiced with cinnamon sticks
-Bake two caramel apples in the oven
-Smile and dream of falls up yonder in the Nor'east.

Thank you, Spinning Girl, for your delightful present, for your delightful words, and mostly, for the delightful way you have made my life more pleasant. Truly, you are a friend, and I will forever admire you.

Plus, you send fantastic presents.