It’s a proven fact that the sappiest writing takes place after midnight. And my watch says 12:22 A.M. Plus I just finished watching a romantic movie (The Holiday). Plus my hormones are all out of whack (have been for years) so here it comes . . .
Here are just a few things that make my hubby the greatest man on earth . . . (And don’t worry Dear, I’ll try really hard not to say too many things that will embarrass you.)
When we were dating Safety Man wore contacts. The first time I saw him in glasses was after we were engaged and on a family trip up in Yellowstone. His lenses were HUGE! When his glasses slid down his nose, he could push them back up again by winking and using his cheek muscles. (So much for not sharing embarrassing information.) I wondered who, exactly, I had agreed to marry. Since then I’ve yet to meet anyone who can push their glasses up without using their hands. If you’re single and meet someone who can perform this feat, marry them. It’ll be worth it.
Safety Man can wiggle his ears. Nothing else moves, just his ears. It makes me laugh.
Growing up I wanted to find someone who was a hard worker like my dad. (What girl doesn’t idolize her father?) I especially admired my dad for his callused and hard-working hands. I was a little surprised to find that Safety Man (who grew up as Farm Boy) didn’t have calluses on his hands? The reason . . . He always wears gloves. Which makes perfect sense now that I’ve known him for 15 years. He’s cautious and careful. And it’s made all the difference.
He uses Cherry Ice lip balm. Makes for nice, soft lips.
We once took a literary honeymoon. All day. In bed. Reading books.
Chaste. (Once you consummate a marriage, are you still considered chaste?)
He gets a little moody when the Jazz lose. (Translation – he’s even more quiet than usual.)
He wrestles and tickles the kids.
In the days before ceramic cook tops on stoves, he cleaned the drip pans. More than once. Without being asked.
He’ll always be a farmer at heart.
He once referred to me as a “low maintenance model,” and he meant it as a compliment.
We both breathe loudly when we sleep. (It’s not snoring. Despite what his sister might say after this summer’s family trip to the cabin.)
Even when I’m mad at him, I have never once lost my respect for him.
He tried my mother’s gravy at my dad’s urging.
He still wears the sweats that I bought him for Christmas in 1998. And although Linda once took a pair of scissors to the crotch of the old sweats her hubby used to wear, I have yet to follow her lead. They’re just not worn enough yet. Only a little hole in the knee. Maybe one of these days I’ll surprise him.
He’s very understanding when I have a hormone headache and take two Excedrins at 8 o’clock at night and don’t come to bed until after 1 A.M. (I promise, it won’t be much after one.)
In addition to being near-perfect, he also has enough odd-ball habits to keep him balanced: picking his toenails, not being able to find things he’s looking for, driving the speed limit, being prone to lecture.
He loves me.
Note: To my regular blog readers. (Hi, Nan!) You may not leave a comment unless you share at least one quirky reason that you love your spouse, or betrothed, or whatever.