All you have to do is ask

"Relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last," so says overhyped actress Sandra Bullock in the cinematic classic "Speed."

Wife and I proved that wench wrong. I waited a month to test the "intense circumstances" theory posed by our preiminent cultural icon, Ms. Bullock. Playing softball in San Diego, I tested the law of physics - it was never my best subject in school - and hurtled my 5-1/2 foot, 160 pound body at the opposing team's shortstop to break up a double play. I didn't realize he doubled as a brick wall. The dude went roughly (I didn't have access to a tape measure, sorry) went 6'2, 200, and all that was missing on him was some graffiti and motar. I splatted into Wall(y) like an insect into a Mack Truck's windshield and then quickly crumpled to the ground. Check that, I didn't crumple, I bounced off Gigantor and hit the ground with such a thump Girlfriend (Wife) claimed she heard it from the bleachers. For a second I thought I bounced out of the stadium and landed on the parking lot because the damn field was so hard it blasted all the hot air right out of me. Luckily, I have an odd shape melon that resembles a television set with a flyback, and that broke my fall a bit despite smushing the bean some. I screamed liked a little girl, afraid my body was turned inside out and my head was dented like a '76 Pinto fender.

And that's the last thing I remember from that game.

Wife was there to watch my heroic effort to break up the DP and also whisk me off to the hospital to check rocks in my noggin. She made me promise to never do that to her again. I did, but I had my fingers crossed. Don't tell her.

But under those "intense circumstances" she acted fast, without panic and didn't just dump me off at the hospital's ambulance bay. Who would blame her if she did? She can't complain now, she missed her chance.

We had been dating for about six weeks by then, and after her waking me up every two hours that night to make sure I wasn't dead from a swollen grape while still needing to get homework done for school I knew she was the chick for me.

About 11 months later I asked (she says demand - po-tate-o, pa-tot-o) her to marry me. It took her 15 minutes to say yes, but it was really a forgone conclusion. Wife and Mom-in-law had been planning the wedding two months earlier. They didn't want to wait for me to do my part. We had the hall, snapshotter, church and wedding nazi all on the tab before I said: Marry me. That's faith right there.

Today is five years of shackled bliss, and I can't think of a better person to be chained to. As I like to say, everday is good when you have a corn dog. Well, every day is corn dog day with Wife.

Thank you for 5 wonderfully long years, sweetie.

Only 45 to go.