My first post on my very own blog. . . What to say, what to say?
I think I'll start by saying how grateful I am to be married to a woman as talented and dedicated as my amazing wife. I'm pretty much one of the luckiest guys in the world, and here's why:
When it comes to getting married, I GOT EXACTLY WHAT I ALWAYS WANTED.
An intelligent, conservative, fun-loving person, who also happens to be GORGEOUS, she is also a considerate, kind, thoughtful woman who is undyingly dedicated to our children.
That's what I always dreamed of! A woman who was:
1. Beautiful and smart. (But not smarter than me, obviously. She got a 29 on her ACT, I got a 30. I probably would've still married her had she got a 30, but not a 31.)
2. Righteous and patient. (Patient especially with someone like me. I should probably consider myself lucky that we got married after only 8 months of knowing each other. Had it gone much longer, and had she learned what an immature doofus I can often be, she surely would've reconsidered.)
3. Fun of her own accord and inclined to laugh at my antics. (Speaking of having fun and laughing, she also happens to be extremely witty, something I am definitely NOT. It's fun to watch her when she's "thinking on her feet" -- I'm so jealous of that gift.)
4. Dedicated to mothering our children and to loving me. (I'll take this opportunity right now to claim the credit for giving her the idea to write a book about being a stay-at-home mom. She is extremely devoted to our girls, loves spending her days with them, and loves teaching them new things and giving them new experiences. As tough a job as it is to be a full-time mother and homemaker, she still loves it and finds great satisfaction in it. And she's gonna publish a book about it, maybe in 5 or 10 years.)
That's her in a nutshell. Thank heavens for her. She's everything I want and everything I'm not.
2 comments:
Wow. I feel incredibly blessed to know this woman. And you are right. I only can hope that my husband one day will see me in a similar light.
Em, he will.
Joe, I don't even know what a blog is, but I agree with your assessment about your dear, beautiful, wonderful, blind wife (for she must be blind to marry you. She is indeed a jewel. Em, Kris will feel that day, and does I am sure.
Joe, I can see and agree with your terror of owning a pet. They are nothing but trouble. Continuous, smelly, costly, trouble.
I didn't always feel that way. There was a time, for a nano-second when I loved pets. I was a tiny bit younger, about nine years old or so, when I loved one, special, dear, loving pet. Don't remember her name, but she was wonderful. She about one month old, and I was her soul-mate, she mine. WE told each other secrets about how we hated girls, how my older sisters were witches, and how we were going to run away as soon as lunch was over.
This cute, little chicken was my best buddy, at least for a time.
We did everything together. We ate together, course I ate a bit more than she did, but we did it all. We ran around the yard, we hid from mommy when it was time for baths and for work, and for making beds, etc. We just enjoyed each other forever. I finally found someone who could understand me and my dreams, my fears, and my paranoiah of my older witch sisters.
Well, about one week after we met, fell in love, and became best friends, my little darling chicken was out running around the front yard and I was joyfully following her. She was trying to outrun me and I was laughing, enjoying my best friend, and then for some stupid reason, she stopped running, right there in front of me, and I promptly stepped on her, crushing the life out of her.
I looked at her smashed little body, and sat on the ground and cried for weeks. I lost someone so dear to me. What was I to do? I knew I would never find another soul mate. So we have a funeral, but not before we decided that if we were to cook her, we would only get a pin-head size bite out of her. So we put her in the ground.
Since then I have hated the thought of having a pet, one that I would either step on, or eat. If I had a pet elephant, I am sure he would step on me, sending me to the squashed chicken heaven, to be persecuted by my past friend.
SO, no thanks, never another pet, for fear? Perhaps, perhaps just because of my traumatic experience with a pet of days gone past.
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