Wednesday, March 24, 2010

In which you fall in love with my husband

Blink. Blink. Blink.

That's my cursor. Mocking me. Well, not anymore. Since I'm typing now. You know how that works.

There are so many things to blog about, but for some reason, I can't get it done. Most of the stories I have in mind don't have endings, which makes for a really terrible blog entry. And things get it the way. Digital scrapbooking. Blog designs I haven't done yet for really nice people who donated to my BikeMS ride. Anniversaries. Work.

Oh, work.

The other night, I was talking to Ellyn on the phone and she was talking about all the drama drama drama in the blog world, and the hateful comments you get when you write a controversial post. And then she was like "oh yeah, I forgot, you don't write about anything."


She was referring to my stand against "transparent" blogging. Because regardless of how popular it is to share every little dirty detail of my life with the internet, I choose not to. Some things in my life are sacred and shouldn't be blogged about.

And other things in my life? Can get me fired and shouldn't be blogged about.

Okay, that's a little dramatic. I didn't do anything that can get me fired. But I have come to realize that any drama I have in my life has to do with struggles in my marriage or at work, and there are good reasons not to blog about both of those things, even though they're all "Woe! Woe is me!"

But I can't stay on "woe" too long, of course. Because, life, it's good. And my friends, the ones who pick me up when I fall flat, they're really, really good.

And that husband of mine, he's quite a catch himself.

Exhibit A:

Want to hug him, don't you? Yeah, me too.

On Saturday afternoon after Jack got home from work, he had a plan in mind.

"Pack a bag," he said.

"Pack a bag?" I responded, quizzically. "What for?"

"We're going away," he said, simply.

I packed a bag, asking a million questions for which I received gibberish answers.

"Where are we going next?" I asked.

"It's none of your business." he answered.

"Are we coming back home after dinner?" I asked.

"Raaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr!!!!" he answered.

Clearly, this line of questioning wasn't getting me very far.

As it turned out, he planned a night out at a nice brand new hotel in our town, complete with dinner at Fogo de Chao and a dessert of chocolate-covered strawberries and champagne in the room.


The nice thing about the evening was that we were close enough to home that we could go home and grab anything we needed (like, my book) and far enough away that I got to forget just how dirty my house really was. (And it was.)

I felt very spoiled. I was very spoiled.

And then, after we got back to our 7th floor suite (Did I mention it was a 750-square-foot suite with a living room, dining room, separate bedroom, and insanely huge bathroom? Cause, it was.), it started snowing. On the first day of spring. I blame that on the fact that I planted flowers the day before. And ha, ha, ha, God, you got me again. Nice sense of humor.

So after Jack looked like this:

I watched this:

Because it's not often you get that kind of view for that kind of art.

(Before and after)

And then there was a wonderful breakfast together as we looked out at all the snow. And Jack was pretty perturbed by the fact that kids outside were touching the snow and OMG NO IT'S NOT GOING TO BE PRETTY ANYMORE IF THEY DO THAT! (Read: Crazy person)

But then we had to go home, where we had to clean a house instead of having everything cleaned for us. Sigh.

But I'll take this really messy "happily ever after" over any others, that's for sure.


Last year: Dinnerversary
2 years ago: Married!
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