Let's hear it for the boy...

Back in our third year of marriage, I decided one day to make a pie.

Now, you should know that I didn't come into the relationship a very motivated or interested cook (which is just plain sad and inexcusable, given the fantastic cook that is my mother). Greg just knew that wasn't particularly part of the deal. There would be food; usually I would make it. That's it. He was getting other things in the deal but delicious brag-worthy food? Not part of the dowry. Case in point: for the first year of our marriage we used our deep fryer wedding present more often than we should have. Eating corn dogs and deep fried potato products--our state fair food stand culinary years--added to the giddy Pleasure Island feel of our early marriage but also added to the scale numbers. We threw that little FryDaddy away when we moved from our tiny $200/a month apartment. Lesson learned.

So back to the pie story. I got out the pie plate, followed the recipe & made My First Pie. And lo, it was good. Greg came home from law school that night, took one whiff of the lemon meringue air, gazed at the beautiful pie on the counter and said, all smiles:

"I did marry a woman who can cook!"

Yes, he had to wait three patient years. I had no idea he was really pining for a wife that could cook and to his credit he never let on.

Well, me to cooking is Greg to handyman skills. As a young man, he wasn't interested & opted to take AP Chem instead of shop or autoshop in school (or, really, learning from his own dad. What is it about kids not learning from their parents?). Now and then he calls his dad for advice and info (his dad being the handyman equivalent of my mom's gourmetness.)

Recently we ordered a new gas stove and new dishwasher. In a reversal of his pay-for-others-to-do-it, they-do-their-job-and-I-do-my-job philosophy, Greg opted to install them ourselves. (And by ourselves I mean Greg. This, it should be known, made me nervous. But did I express doubts? Well, yes. A little. I had some visions of gas explosions and such. Greg's way more longsuffering than I am about keeping quiet about these things.) Seven trips to the hardware store later (a pesky-sized connector was to blame), he has done it, along with replacing light fixtures and whole outlets without electrocuting himself.

Well, color me impressed. I really did marry a guy who's a handyman.

Here's one for the "he meant well" department

As I've mentioned before, we are currently in temporary housing. A major bonus is the twice-weekly maid service, since the furnished apartment is affiliated with a hotel/inn.

He: (noticing the fresh towels on the bathroom counter) Ahhh....when we get into our house is there a service you can get that does your linen every week?

Me: Um. Yeah. It's called a wife...I do your linen every week!

Admittedly my linen service is not nearly as consistent as the hotel's. And he was really thinking of relieving my own laundry burden when he said it. Still. It reminds me of my friend who always joked with her husband on laundry day saying "the laundry fairy has been here!" One week they were both really sick, unable to lift their heads from the pillow. At one point he said "Oh, I hope the laundry fairy shows up soon."
Silence.
Finally she said "So you know I'm really the laundry fairy, right?"

Folding down corners

Every time I look through a magazine or catalog, I fold down the corner of the pages where I like things, sometimes even circling the item to remember later. Maybe everyone does this...do you? It's silly how happy it makes me to tag something that might-maybe-somehow-perhaps-someday be mine, to identify that *this* appeals to me, *that* doesn't.

(Memory: When I was around 10, my friend Shelly and I used to go through the JCPenney catalog and pick something on each page as ours. There were many close-call tiffs when we each wanted the same thing. For some reason it was Against The Rules to choose the same thing, as if there were just one available and as if we were going to get anything at all. My kids used to do that with movie characters. While watching the movie, M would say "I'm Cinderella" and then L would say "No! I'M Cinderella...I'm older and I have blond hair" and back and forth. They ignored my suggestion that they could actually both be Cinderella since they weren't actually going to morph into her so it didn't matter anyway. That "calling" thing is powerful )

Anyway. This week I'm sorting through everything (in anticipation of our move on May 31!) and tossing the ridiculously many outdated magazines I currently own. I can't resist sneaking peeks at the folded down pages, though, just to see what I thought was cool and wantable in 1998. (Yes, I moved these magazines TWICE. This is the insanity that is me.) Suffice it to say I won't be needing those pages anymore.

The folded corner habit did work out well for me, though. One year for Christmas, everything G got me was so spot on, so perfectly matched to my unspoken wishlist that I was stunned. How did you know? I asked. I'm sure you've guessed by now. He took my pile of catalogs/magazines, opened to the folded corners, and ordered. I know, I know...he's a keeper, isn't he?

For my valentine

Why a picture of Thai paper lanterns on Valentine's Day, you ask? Quite simply because this is what my heart feels like when I think of you. Hundreds of glowing lights. Here's to you, GLW!

Just in case...

Over Thanksgiving, Greg's dad pulled him aside to tell him where all their important documents are: wills, account information, medical information, etc. Just in case. Kind of a sobering conversation, really, but his dad felt strongly that he should know where all that mysterious stuff was, just in case. Fast forward a few months to this conversation:
Me: Greg?
G: Yeah?
M: I feel like I need to tell you something.
G: ...okay....
M: Well, I know this is hard to talk about, but you know how your dad had that talk with you over Thanksgiving?
G: Uh-huh...(quizzical look, like 'where are you going with this?')
M: I really think I should show you where the bathroom cleaning supplies are. You know, just in case anything ever happens to me.

I think he really appreciated the information, don't you?