The blog you've all been waiting for

So I've been propositioned to make a guest appearance on Heidi's blog, the proposition will not be discussed during the course of this entry as I know the tabloid esque ways of this journal.
I used to write a lot more (poetry mainly) and then I was married and I don't anymore. After much wondering if I just lost the ability or my lack of time alone, I realized that I wrote before mainly about my muse and the longing for her and all those additional feelings that are attatched to falling in love and planning ahead. But my muse is here by my side, every day, every time I wake up she is with me, so I can now look at her and realize that my longing has now been fulfilled with her presence. The truth of it (and Heidi strongly encouraged me to write truthfully as to not scare all of you) is that now I don't need to write as I am able to tell her all those things that form in my head.
So the next question is what topic do I try and entertain you with, so many options, yet a good number of you don't even know me or have only met me briefly. So if this is not appealing to you I wish I could be sorry.
First I must offer an appeal to those who think I stole your dear Heidi, all choices are made, with or without the sense of reason in place, but hers was a choice deliberately made for my sanity. All is well now.
One of the biggest things in moving to a foreign country, a new home, an additional family etc. Is adapting. Your dear Heidi struggled to find her "place" in sunny southern California away from the friends, her family and the dampness called Abbotsford. When a woman marries a man generally they take on the husbands last name, but it ends up being more than just a name, it incorporates many years of hard work that has established that name. It produces ways of life, traditions and the ability to pronounce words correctly or how certain candies are actually said (Darla). Heidi has to the best of her ability attempted to take this on. She has begun by pronouncing pasta correctly, become close with my family (so close she actually flatulated at the dinner table to great applause), and has learned to become a good cook (my mom is Martha Stewart). So, as I look over at her cuddled in bed with a magazine, I gaze as a blessed man, a man that can only be blessed by God with the good fortunes of calling Heidi my friend, my wife and someday the mother of our children. How else can you explain two people meeting from two different countries meeting on an island?
I hope to have met my blog quota for the day. Take it easy.

Josh--the unentertaining translator of today's prose

p.s. the title wasn't my idea