Showing posts with label Husbands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Husbands. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Things Husbands Don't Know How To Do (Very Well)

I know I would be casting a really wide net to talk about ALL husbands, but since I have had four of them, I think I am as good a person as any to cast some kind of net to talk about what husbands don't know how to do, or at least, do very well.

You know that I am always trying to be helpful in this blog, so by shining a light on some very real marital issues, I just might save your marriage.



I have yet to have a husband who knows how to fold a pillowcase or make a bed properly.

It's strange that our mothers taught us how to do these things, but they must have figured their sons would have wives so they didn't need to learn how to do them. The few times that Hubby folds the laundry (usually when he is searching for something in the dryer that he wants to wear and I haven't had a chance to fold it yet), I find the pillowcases folded into squares.  Though I know I should be grateful that he took the time to fold the laundry, I have to say NO!  A pillowcase must be folded lengthwise in thirds (and ironed that way if I am feeling particularly domestic), and then folded over into a nice rectangle, thus looking crisp when put onto the pillow.  As for making the bed, the top sheet is placed upside down with the pattern facing the bed so that when you fold the top hem over, the pattern shows.  So now that you guys know how to do these two things, you will no longer irritate your wife.  Well, you won't irritate her about those two things at least.

Husbands don't seem to know how to give their wives gifts they really want.

I mean, c'mon, a vacuum cleaner for Valentine's Day?  I suppose I should be grateful to get anything for Valentine's Day and birthdays, but how hard is it to remember that cute shocking pink faux fur vest I mooned over at Nordstrom the other week or the broad hint about that red BMW?  When confronted about the appropriateness of a vacuum cleaner as a Valentine's Day present, Hubby said he just wanted to make MY work easier!  Thanks.

Husbands are not very good at being honest about their food issues.

Husbands like to throw the word "allergic" around.  Their mothers must have started that.  Beware of your husband saying he is allergic to a particular food.  It could be he just won't admit that he doesn't like something.  It was 20 years before I figured out that Hubby was not allergic to walnuts.  He just didn't like them.

Husbands don't seem to know how to hear very well when it doesn't suit them.

That hearing loss seems to have a pattern to it.  I seems to occur during sporting events on TV, when the baby cries, when the teenager is arguing or when Hubby's mother is criticizing you. What he IS good at is a disappearing act when such things occur.

Being sick.

If men had to give birth, there would be no children.  They are just big babies when it comes to pain.  When they feel a sniffle coming on, they milk it for all it's worth.  However, when WE aren't feeling well and say so, Hubby says "You better get that checked out" and goes back to watching said sporting event.

Sharing.

After a day of silence, we wives might ask you, "What are you thinking?" to which you will probably reply, "Nothing."  Really?  You are thinking nothing?  You might as well say to us, "None of your business."  Answering "Nothing" will have the desired effect of stopping all conversation, which, I guess, is the point.  You could at least say, "I was thinking about that hot waitress who served us last night at the restaurant."  That would probably shut us up too, but at least we couldn't accuse you of not sharing.

Speaking of which, husbands aren't very good at listening to US share.

I think there is a written code among men that as soon as they sense a discussion about feelings coming on, their minds go into "fix it" mode so they can end the conversation as soon as possible.  I think they equate our wanting to share our feelings with a walk to the executioner's table.  They don't want to be there so if they can fix whatever is troubling us and get the hell out of there, they will try to do that.

Guys, listen up.  I am going to help you. We know you want to help and that you think that coming up with a solution to our issue is the answer, but it's not.  We want you to listen to us bitch about work or worry about our health. We don't need you to tell us what to do about it.  We will figure that out.  We just want you to LISTEN, to HEAR us, to ACKNOWLEDGE our pain with the appropriate head nods, an occasional "I understand" or "That must be really hard." 

So when your wife says, "I feel depressed," instead of saying "Better call your shrink," try saying "Tell me about it."  Or when your wife says she is having trouble with someone at work, instead of saying "Screw 'em," try saying "What's going on?  I'm all ears."  When your wife says she's lonely, telling her to get a cat isn't what she wants to hear.  Instead, when your wife starts a sentence with "I feel..." or "I am worried about...," say "Tell me about it," then keep schtup and nod appropriately.  At least pretend that you care because we women don't need you to fix anything.  We are perfectly capable of doing that ourselves.  It just helps us to verbalize things. 

And ultimately, if you don't want to listen to your wife, why the hell are you married?

There, I just saved your marriage.



Ladies, did I miss anything?

And sorry if you think I am "husband bashing."  I sometimes feel a rant coming on and just have to share.  You know, that thing about sharing.  Can't help it.

I do think husbands have their charms.  Check out my "Why Have a Husband? post, where I point out what a husband is good for.  There are some things.

 
Thanks for Reading!
 
See you Friday


for my review of the new movie 


"Everest" 

and


The Week in Reviews


(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)


and the latest on

My 1001 Movies I Must See Before
 I Die Project."


If you enjoyed this post, feel free to click on the share buttons to share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn, email it to your friends and LIKE me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rosythereviewer
 





Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Why Have a Wife?

When I wrote my semi-humorous pseudo-paean to husbands in my post "Why Have a Husband," I was shocked by the response, especially from my own daughter.

She seemed to be a bit defensive and to take issue with my post.  She said, "If you are going to say that about husbands, why have a wife then?" 

But I forgive her because she hasn't been married long enough to know just what a pain in the ass a husband can be, but mostly because when she said that, I went, "Aha!  Another idea for a blog post."

When I told Hubby about her response and threw out the question, "Why have a wife?, he was quick to respond: "For sex."

So as I clear my throat, I must say, I rest my case.  Husbands are very basic. 

Neil Young sums up a man's basic needs:




And, in general, that's why a husband thinks he needs a wife.  So we need to get out of that whole "maid thing."

I can easily write about why a husband needs a wife and what a wife is good for, besides sex and maid services.  So here goes.  And thank you to my darling daughter. 

And by the way, this is not just aimed at the man/woman relationship.  This is aimed at whomever considers themselves a husband or a wife.

So without further ado...


Why have a wife?

This is why a husband needs a wife:


---A husband needs a wife to dress him.
We all know that husbands have terrible taste in clothes and even when their taste isn't terrible, they tend to stay with the same style for years.  Sports logos and baseball caps often abound. A wife is needed to make sure they are both not embarrassed by Hubby's clothing choices.

Amy Schumer gives you a hint of what we wives are dealing with.
 

 
 
---A husband needs a wife because she communicates and he doesn't.
Whether you like it or not, if you are a husband, it is likely you are incommunicative except to be judgmental and complain about stuff.  Wives want to talk about feelings and husbands tend to think feelings are something to be felt (there is someone out there who knows exactly where that came from).  Husbands want to come home, be fed, and live in the fantasy that their wives understand when they are too tired to talk to them and when they do talk that their wives really care who won the NFL draft.  A wife communicates what her husband needs to know to have a better relationship and life.
 

---A husband needs a wife to decorate the house.
Unless the husband is an interior decorator, he should not have a say in the window dressings, the couch, the bedspread or basically anything inside the house when it comes to decorating. The Barcalounger does not belong in the living room.  We know that husbands have terrible taste because so many of us have closets full of tarty lingerie and stripper shoes.  What, you don't?  Anyway, if you are lucky and keep your opinions to yourself, your wife might let you have a room of your own where you can hang your neon beer sign and display your trophies.
 
 
 
 
The sleeping poodle is a nice touch, don't you think? 
I have a good eye for detail. 
 
 


---A husband needs a wife to bring home the bacon.
Not literally bacon, but these days, most households require two incomes if you want to live comfortably and especially if we wives are going to have the wardrobes we deserve.  Many of us wives might even make more money than our husbands and that's OK, but if we bring home our own money, we should be able to spend it as we like.  Yes, there should be a financial plan for the future, but working husbands and wives should not have to ask each other for permission to spend money unless Hubby comes home with a Maserati.
 




---A husband needs a wife to do stuff with.
 
 
Not that! Get your mind out of the gutter! I am talking about stair walking, going to movies, playing golf, traveling, having Happy Hour, watching "The Bachelorette."  Ok, you watch "The Bachelorette" because your wife wants to, but wives do things with their husbands that they don't necessarily want to do, too, such as attending ball games and the occasional tractor pulling contest.
 
 
 


---A husband needs a wife so he has someone he can trust absolutely.
I know, we sneak a Macy's bag into the house from time to time and when you see us in the cool faux fur coat and ask us "Is that new?"

 

and we reply, "Oh, this old thing? I've had this for ages," that doesn't really count as not being trustworthy.  That happens because husbands are big grumps about Macy's bags coming into the house.  No, I'm talking about important things like always telling you the truth about how you look, what you should be doing with your life and how to put up the Christmas tree lights.
 
 
 


--- And speaking of the Christmas tree lights.
As I said in my post "Why Have a Husband," husbands need our input, especially when it comes to the Christmas tree lights.  It wouldn't be the holidays without a fight about the lights, now would it?


The bottom line is:  A husband needs a wife to tell him all the things he is doing wrong.  I mean, if your best friend, your soul mate, your wife can't tell you, who can?  Don't you want to know when you are screwing up?

Albert Einstein said, "Men marry women with the hope they will never change. Women marry men with the hope they will change. Invariably they are both disappointed.”

Sorry, Albert.  I say wives don't change.  They just start noticing things their husbands could do better.

But seriously folks and I was only half kidding before, I use the word "wife" as a metaphor.  It doesn't matter your sex.  Etymologically speaking, the word "wife" has historical connections to the term "fish wife," which I hate to say because that is associated with a shrill, yelling woman which has also become a negative metaphor for a wife.  I prefer "better half" and "life partner" and that is what I would like to focus on.

 


When you have a wife, you have a person who in most cases played with baby dolls or took care of their younger siblings or helped and loved their mothers.  They were nurturers. They wanted to take care of someone and they were looking for YOU. When they found you, they wanted to look after YOU and share their lives with YOU.

So even though your wife wants you to dress better, stay out of the decorating decisions, communicate more and do a better job putting those Christmas tree lights up, just know this: she wouldn't be trying to make you a better person if she didn't care.  She would find someone else to work on! 


See you Friday


for my review of the new movie 
 
"Magic Mike XXL" 

and
 
The Week in Reviews
 
(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)

and the latest on

My 1001 Movies I Must See Before
 I Die Project."






 
If you enjoyed this post, feel free to click on the share buttons to share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn, email it to your friends and LIKE me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rosythereviewer



Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Why Have a Husband?

Today is my 31st Wedding Anniversary. 



 
I guess I should say "our" 31st Wedding Anniversary. 

Hubby and I have been married for 31 years today.



However, I ask this question - Why Have a Husband? - because of a recent interchange Hubby and I had.

I had a conference in Seattle which is about 20 miles from where we live.  Since the conference started at 8am (and you know I am NOT a morning person), I had this bright idea that I would book a hotel room near the conference and spend the night so I could just walk to the conference and avoid having to get up really early and deal with rush hour traffic. 

It just so happens that the famous Edgewater Hotel was near the conference venue.  I have always wanted to stay there. I mean if it was good enough for Led Zeppelin and The Beatles, it was good enough for me and I wanted to experience a little of that.  It was the site of The Beatles fishing from their room and Led Zeppelin's infamous "shark incident" (and if you don't know about the infamous shark incident, click on this link). 



However, for this plan to work, Hubby would have to drive me both ways.  He couldn't stay over because, unlike me, Hubby has a job and somebody has to stay with the dogs. 

When I told Hubby about this great plan, he balked.  He knew that another option I had was to take the bus that was going down so why should he have to make two trips into Seattle, one of which would be in rush hour?

And that is when I replied, "What good is it to have a husband if he won't do what I want him to? If he doesn't do everything he can to make my life as easy as possible?"

So he kind of said, "Well, if you put it that way..."

And I said, "When you come to pick me up we can do Happy Hour."  (You have to throw them a bone from time to time).

So that little incident made me ask, why have a husband?

What's a husband good for, especially if he won't do what you ask him to do?

I mean, why put up with taking care of another person, having to listen to his opinions about decorating and his bitching about how much money you are spending or that the TV is too loud after he goes to bed, having to do his laundry, entertain him because he really doesn't have that much going on, cook his meals, clean his house and, you know, all of that other stuff, if he won't comply to your brilliant ideas and requests?

We working women no longer need men to support us.  Most of us are liberated enough to go to movies alone, pump our own gas, mow the lawn ourselves and take out the garbage.

So why have a husband?

So with much deep thought, I have come up with a list of what a husband is good for.


---Killing bugs
When my son was little he heard a ruckus in the bathroom and came to investigate.  Hubby was in there killing a large scary bug of some kind.  When my son asked what he was doing, I told him and said, "When you are a man, you will kill bugs for your wife."  He burst into tears and said, "I don't want to be a man!"

Sorry, husbands.  Killing bugs for your wives is on your job description (or if you are particularly humane, capturing them and setting them free outside).


---Taking out the garbage
I know I can do this myself, but as long as he's there, he might as well do it (one less housekeeping chore for me).


---Running to the store when you realize you don't have a key ingredient for a recipe you are right in the middle of
Your hands are full of flour and you look like hell and you don't have baking powder (I know, you should have checked all of the ingredients before getting started).  But Hubby is right there sitting in front of the TV watching football with his hand down his pants, so why shouldn't he get up and get you that baking powder?


---Putting the lights on the Christmas tree
Though every year I threaten to do it myself.  However, we have created a Christmas tradition.  He puts the lights on wrong, I bitch at him, he threatens me ("Why don't you do it yourself, then?! Cripes!"), I bitch some more, then I put the ornaments on the tree and we both admire it.




---Getting up on the roof to clean the skylights
Even though the last time he did that, he fell off the ladder.  I'm afraid of heights, so no way am I climbing up on the roof!


---Travel Plans
I tell him where I want to go and what I want to do and he makes it happen.  I know I could just as easily make the reservations and buy the plane tickets, but why should I when he is a know-it-all, take-charge type?  He likes to put the notebook for our itinerary together and all of the other little OCD stuff he likes to do.  I want him to feel important.




---TIVO and Computers
I often wonder what it would be like if something happened to Hubby and I had to connect all of that stuff to a network myself and keep it running properly. I would be afraid to move because then who would set up my TV and computer just the way I want it?  I would probably just stay where I am forever and they would find me here sitting in my chair, covered in cobwebs, holding the remote.


---Making sure the house is well-stocked with wine
That one is a no-brainer.



After all is said and done, having a husband is a good thing because when you get old and wrinkly and fat he still has to love you. 

Because remember when we were young, smooth-skinned and thin, we asked him, "Will you love me forever and ever and ever, even when I am old, wrinkly and fat?"

And what could he say?

And then we said, "Promise?"
 

Happy Anniversary, Hubby!

 
 

 
 
 


Thanks for Reading!
 

See you Friday

for my review of the new movie 

"Hot Pursuit"
 
and
 
The Week in Reviews
 
(What to See or Read and What to Avoid)


and the latest on


"My 1001 Movies I Must See Before
 I Die Project."




 

If you enjoyed this post, feel free to click on the share buttons to share it on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and LinkedIn, email it to your friends and LIKE me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rosythereviewer


Tuesday, September 23, 2014

"Hubby"

Phyllis Diller had "Fang" and I have "Hubby."

It was his birthday last week and since I make fun of him, I mean, talk about him so much on this blog, I thought you might want to get to know him a little better.  Also, I think I owe him that much since I scheduled a colonoscopy for the day after his birthday.  His birthday wasn't pretty.

Have you ever wondered about the paths, the circuitous routes, that led you to your friends, lovers and husbands (I say husbands with an "s" because I've had more than one)?  Well, OK, maybe you haven't, but that's the kind of crap I think about. One different turn, one different decision and your life might have turned out much differently.

I think about that writing this post, because Hubby and I couldn't have had more different lives growing up.  We didn't grow up in the same town, we didn't even grow up in the same country.  We didn't go to college together, we didn't meet at work. 

We met on one serendipitous morning in Big Sur, California.

But let me back up a bit and talk about me for a minute, because after all this is MY blog.

I grew up in Western Michigan, on the shores of Lake Michigan.  I lived in the same town from birth to 18, and we only moved once, when I was seven, and we only moved about five blocks closer to downtown.  My parents also grew up there and lived there all of their lives and my paternal grandparents lived across the street.

 


Hubby, on the other hand, was born in Oakland, California and lived in Suriname, El Salvador, Turkey and Jamaica before attending college at the University of Virginia when he was only 16.

 

 

Who knew that little homegrown Michigan girl would eventually meet the world traveling little boy and that Seattle would take us full circle?

Hubby's Dad's family immigrated to the United States from England in the early part of the 20th century.  Hubby's Grandfather came first and his wife and three children followed in 1921.  They settled in Chicago where Hubby's Dad, Bob, at the age of seven, was riding on the back of a bike when he was hit by a truck.  It was one of those old trucks with hard wheels, and it ran over his right leg, which had to be amputated above the knee.  Because of the accident, there was a monetary settlement which enabled Hubby's Dad to go to college, the only member of his family to do so. A horrible accident with a happy ending of sorts. He became a chemical engineer specializing in sanitary engineering and water resources.


Because the accident happened to him early in life, Bob was able to adjust to a prosthesis and life went on for him.  Hubby always said he thought his Dad having an artificial leg was cool and he would proudly show it off to his friends by giving it a kick.

Around the same time, Hubby's mother, Ada Frances ("Fran") was growing up in Springfield, Missouri, a doted-on only child of young parents.



Fran and her parents and Bob all moved to Seattle during WW II for better opportunities and that is where Bob and Fran met and were married.  Hubby's sister, Pam was born in Seattle, and when Bob secured a job with the State of California, the family moved to Berkeley.  Hubby was born in Oakland.



Bob was later transferred to Southern California and this is where things get fuzzy. 


Here Fran is imitating Jackie Gleason, "Why I oughta...to the moon!" much to Hubby-to-be's delight.


It was never clear why Bob signed up for overseas posts with the U.S. State Department, but some conversations I had with both of them led me to believe Fran wanted to get Bob away from something or someone, not to mention the lure of the good life that was available to people working for the U.S. Government and living in Third World Countries during the 1950's and 60's.



Hubby always got a kick out of this official State Department picture of his Dad.  So serious and so unlike him as a man.

Bob's specialty was setting up water systems in Third World countries.

The first posting was to Suriname (Dutch Guiana) for four years. 

Hubby was three when they arrived. 






 
 
 
 
 
 
And he was seven when they left.  They stayed with his maternal grandmother in Springfield, Missouri (home of Brad Pitt and Kathleen Turner).  This would be the pattern over the years between postings, and Hubby would get a taste of life in the United States, going to school briefly there waiting for the next posting.

When Hubby was eight, they were in El Salvador for two years


 


and at ten, the family was posted to Ankara, Turkey for two more years,



followed by less than two years in Kingston, Jamaica.



By this time, Hubby was 14 and begged his parents to let him go to high school in the United States.  The next post was going to be Brazil, but they relented, and Bob was able to get a transfer to Washington, D.C. and the family moved to Springfield, Virginia, a suburb.


Because of his education abroad, Hubby skipped several grades and graduated from high school when he was only 16. 


I also have to add that Hubby growing up overseas in less advanced countries from the age of three to 14 meant TV was not very prevalent.  So he amused himself by reading the World Book Encyclopedia and memorizing capitals and square miles of countries and states, among other things.  He also liked to count the number of panels in his comic books and rank them - which ones had the most panels.  Hence his dominance in Trivial Pursuit (except TV shows of the 1950's and 60's of which I excel) and a decided nerdie trait he passed on to his children.

So now Hubby-to-be is back in the States, graduated from high school and it's the late 60's. 

Hubby discovers rock concerts (he was at Woodstock) and the ladies.

He was accepted at the University of Virginia and entered the engineering program there when he was still 16.

Alas, what's likely to happen to a young sheltered boy off to college for the first time?  P-A-R-T-Y!



He made it through the first semester of his second year, but due to low grades - and maybe because there were no women at the University of Virginia then?  - Hubby and the school decided it was best if he moved on.

So what do you do when you have flunked out of college and you are only 18?

Why you open a "head shop" with your parents, sister and her husband, of course! 

Hey, it was the 70's!



For those of you too young to know what a "head shop" is, let's just say a "head shop" sells things for your "head," along with water beds, hippie clothes and the like.

They started "Joy Wind," the first "head shop" in Charlottesville, which became the center of the counter culture scene there, until Hubby's sister and her husband decided Colorado was where it was at. They eventually drifted to the Monterey Bay Area in California, and Hubby, after a failed marriage, followed suit.

And this is where I enter the scene.

Like I said, I was born and raised in one place.  I graduated from high school while Hubby was still overseas (I like younger men),




 and dutifully went to college, getting married young along the way.


Can you tell I was a theatre major in college?

I, too, heard the lure of California and went out there right after college. 

Other than a brief stint back in Michigan where I attended Library School, I lived in California for the next 30 years.

So here's the "meet cute" story, which I related briefly in a blog post where I reviewed the remake of "Endless Love."

For those of you who missed that, I will tell it again...with a bit more detail.

I was 34, happily married (I thought), had a great job as a library manager and had just had my first child, a little boy.  I was working and putting my husband though college, only to discover that he had been having an affair with a young co-ed the whole time.  There I was, 34 years old with a two year old son.  I couldn't help but think, "I didn't wait until I was 32 to have a child only to raise him alone."  My world fell apart.  It was bad.  I made some very bad decisions trying to stay married.

But after the stops and starts, I pulled myself together.  A friend of mine let me live with her while I healed and eventually I started to feel better. My friend was also going through a break-up so we helped each other, going out and having fun.

What can I say?  It was the 80's!

We planned a weekend at Big Sur.  My son was with his Dad for the weekend, so my friend and I were going to go down there together and be "free, independent, strong women."  To hell with men!  Who needs men!?

So that's what we did.

We stayed at the Big Sur River Inn, laid out in the sun on the grass by the river while my friend tried to teach me to play bridge.

We had dinner at Nepenthe where the chef chatted us up and said he wanted to meet us at a club down the road.  We were feeling cute, very free and happy.

We went down to the club and a band was playing.  (Clubs actually had live bands in those days and people actually danced.  Can you believe it)?



One of the guys in the band also chatted us up and we had a good old time, but I discovered I had a horrible sun burn from lying out on the grass all afternoon, so we went back to the room without waiting for that chef to meet us. 

That night my friend was sick (food poisoning?), and I was suffering from my sunburn so we had a bad night.

The next morning we crossed the road to get some breakfast, and as we walked in my friend said under her breath, "There's the band." 

We sat nearby at which point this cheeky, balding guy (Hubby-to-be) struck up a conversation with us, eventually asking us if we were "models or actresses."  After much giggling on our parts, he asked our names and I said, "I'm Rosy" and my friend said, "I'm Janie," to which soon-to-be Hubby said "Well, I'm Chucky, this is Sally, this is Stevie and this is Joey."  Again, much giggling ensued and we found ourselves outside in the sun once again whiling away the afternoon with the band, me hoisting up the back of my shirt to show them my sunburn.

Later, they invited us to go down the river (I wonder why - wink, wink).  To do that, we would have to take their cars. 

Now right here, the story might have changed not to mention what could have happened to us getting into cars with strange men.  Don't try this at home!

I saw Hubby-to-be take a minute to decide who he wanted to ride with him, but he nodded my way and in I hopped.  Strong, free women, right?  I could have been a statistic...and I almost was. 

Not for the reason you might think, but to my credit, I did say as we were trekking down the river, "This isn't like 'Deliverance' or something, is it?"  Half joking, half wondering if this was such a good idea.

We set up camp down the river.  There was a six-pack in the river cooling and when Hubby-to-be asked me if I wanted a beer, I said "Sure," and he tossed it to me.  As I looked up to catch it, the sun was in my eyes and the full can of beer landed on my head!  Blood ensued.  All I could think at that moment was "Medic!" and my worst fear would be realized.  My son would grow up without a mother.  Hubby-to-be came over, dabbed the blood and was not particularly sympathetic. I could feel the hole in my head, but we were out in the middle of nowhere with total strangers, so what was I to do?  Well, continue partying.

Hubby-to-be and I talked and talked, discovering that we shared the same values.  We kissed with our glasses getting stuck together, we joked, but when I found out what his SAT scores were, I knew he was for me.


That night he came over to my apartment and we continued talking through the night, even singing a boozy rendition of "Endless Love" together (hence, the "Endless Love" connection mentioned above - it's "our song.").

I was working as a medical librarian in a hospital at the time so when I went back to work and had them check my head wound, the doctor said, "Must have been some party."  I could see him envisioning a brawl with beer cans flying all around so I was going to try to explain that it wasn't like that, but then, I always did want to break that mousy librarian stereotype.  I didn't reply, trying to maintain a bit of mystery and an aura as a party girl.

Hubby-to-be had been planning on moving back East to live with his parents and go back to college, but he pursued me, he loved my son, and a year later we were married


 

 and a year after that our daughter was born.


Hubby went back to college, but this time, folks, I did not put him through.  He worked and went to college at night earning a degree in Computer Science and becoming a part of the Silicon Valley tech world.

We have been married for over 30 years and have gone through the usual ups and downs that all people experience. We lost his sister, Pam, to cancer at only 40 years old and both of his parents died soon after moving  to California to be near us.  We wish we could have enjoyed them longer.


Hubby still plays music and my career as a librarian lasted for 40 years.

 
 


So in a nutshell, that's Hubby's story and how despite growing up thousands of miles apart our paths crossed.

I am not a proponent of marrying your opposite.  I think happy marriages are based on some crucial sameness.  Despite the miles and exotic locations, Hubby and I were raised very similarly, so there were no religious issues, no values issues, no personality issues. The core understanding was there.

I met Hubby at a very low point in my life - the lowest in fact - and he lifted me up.

And he lifted up my son, too, by treating him as his own. He coached his baseball teams, followed all of his sports, helped him with his homework and was there for him every step of the way.



And I believe he was a huge influence on what a wonderful father my son now is who in turn will lift up his own sons.



Thank you, Hubby.
 
I am glad we found each other.
 
Happy Birthday...And cheers!



Thanks for Reading!
 
See you Friday for
 
"My Colonoscopy"
(Yes, you heard me...)
 
And
 
The Week in Reviews


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