My wife and I spent last week in Mexico.

That is the first time I have referred to Jami as “my wife” while writing, and I imagine it is the first of many times.

We earned our sunny honeymoon trip by surviving our whirlwind wedding that was held at the White Mule Winery.

From what I hear, everything went well. Most guests said they had fun, and that the food was great. The winery was decorated very nicely.

I can’t remember a whole lot. Jami and I were having photos taken, then rushed off to do a dance, and then threw a bouquet, well she did at least.

There were people there, some who drove several hours, who I didn’t even get to chat with all evening.

There also was some comic relief during the ceremony. As I had parted my lips to begin reciting my vows, one of the mules in the nearby pasture let out a whinny — or whatever sound a mule makes.

There were audible chuckles from the wedding guests. Which is very fitting.

However, I do want to point out that mules are not donkeys, and cannot be referred to by any name other than “mule.”

It was shortly thereafter that the preacher first pronounced us man and wife. But I am not sure if Jami actually married me or the mule, since he spoke up first.

It is still very different to say, “I have a wife.” I am sure she will prefer that to “my old lady,” or “the ball and chain.”

While on the honeymoon, we stayed in a resort south of Cancun, just feet from the beach, complete with a bar.

It was at that bar where the bartender Miguel, who I befriended the day before, asked what I was drinking. Then he said, “And for your wife, Amigo?’

That was the first time that somebody who I didn’t know well referred to Jami as my wife and I didn’t correct them.

Calling her my wife makes conversations much easier.

Even while we were engaged I often continued to refer to Jami as “my girlfriend.” Fiancee sounded too pretentious and Frenchy.

Whenever I say fiancee, I feel like I should be in the back of a limo asking for Grey Poupon.

Anyway, my wife and I were in Mexico enjoying the white sandy beaches and the resort restaurants.

This was both of our first trip out of the country, other than a quick jaunt to Canada when I was a babe.

Most of our time was spent enjoying the sun, eating and drinking, but there were times when we had the television on in the hotel room.

And much to my delight, the first night we were at the hotel ESPN 2 was airing a St. Louis Cardinals games, albeit, in Spanish.

It was hard to follow the game with the announcers speaking so quickly in a different language.

Not all of the television was as enjoyable. We flipped through the channels that were either American shows dubbed in Spanish, actual Mexican shows or American shows in English with Spanish subtitles.

We skipped over the Mexican shows and the shows dubbed in Spanish. We could watch shows with subtitles, but not as easily as one would expect.

Whenever we had one of these shows on and the subtitles displayed on the bottom of the screen, it seemed as if the show was either at the very beginning or very ending.

The subtitles gave the feel of credits, or the names of actors, that are typically on the bottom of the screen as a show begins.

But we weren’t really there to watch TV. Instead, I was there to spend time with my wife, even though that still seems like a foreign statement to me.