Michael will be watching the game with me. He’ll make a big fire in the fireplace, we’ll gather some snacks, leave any dishes left in the sink, and forget about returning phone calls. It will be a nice evening together, but I know I’m not the most thrilling Super Bowl companion.
So here are five promises I made to my husband to help maximize his viewing experience:Continue Reading
Often, I end up in the CVS greeting card aisle at 8 p.m. the evening of February 13, elbowing my way through a wall of sheepish men lined up three-deep, waiting to pick among the dregs of the red and pink cards.Continue Reading
Yes, my handy hubby, someday soon you will accompany me to a place that strikes fear into the heart of many a man. A place that can weaken the knees of the toughest guy. A venue you’ve managed to avoid for years.
The fabric store.Continue Reading
A kitchen, every surface covered with diced, sliced, or whole veggies, some still steaming and fragrant from the grill, some still raw.
Michael, Karen’s husband of 35 years, enters through the kitchen door, stage left. Dressed in colorful cycling gear, helmet in hand, he glistens in sweat, face red, dirt streaked on one calf, hair matted to his head. He looks tired but jubilant.
Karen stands at the kitchen sink, center stage. The afternoon sun shines through the spotless windows behind her, giving her hair a golden glow, her dewy complexion complimented by the soft pink flush of exertion. Trim and tan, she wipes a loose strand of silky blonde hair from her smooth forehead with the back of her youthful hand as she leans over to kiss her husband.*Continue Reading
Years ago, I sat across a table from my new husband as we enjoyed a night out on our honeymoon. As we waited for our food to arrive, the wait staff appeared, singing Happy Anniversary, and delivered a cake with a single flaming candle to the couple at the next table.
Michael and I looked at each other with wide-eyed awe and said, almost in unison, “Wow. A whole year.”
It was hard to fathom being married for a year. Now, it’s been 35.Continue Reading
Last week, my husband Michael and I were putting fresh sheets on the bed. He held up his pillowcase liner in one hand, a broken zipper head in the other hand, caught my eye, and we both doubled over in laughter. I leaned over, supporting my upper body on the bed because I was laughing too hard to stand up. Michael did the same, breaking out in a coughing fit like he does when he laughs uncontrollably.
I guess you had to be there.Continue Reading