The Life of A Wife

Man, I'm behind. And several of my good, old loyal followers let me know it in the last few weeks.

*******

Believe it or not, it finally happened. The Man proposed and after 10 months of stressing and planning, we are now husband and wife.

The day was perfect. And if it wasn't, I don't want to know about it.

In my usual form, I requested we break from tradition. Imagine that. So we wrote our own vows.

Standing under the sun and the beautifully handcrafted alter made by The Man and His Dad, I poured my heart out. After pledging to be his equal and stand by his decisions, no matter how dumb - or something like that, and to make sure warm meals were always in his belly, I wrapped it up.

"I promise to always do half of the laundry. But I vow to always fully love you. You’ve helped me vow to be the best parts of me that fit perfectly with the best parts of you."

And somewhere in there was a promise The Man will never let me forget.

After giving him one of my friendly text message reminders of why he married me, it was met with, "and for pizza, which I haven't gotten yet."

Pizza? I don't recall anything about pizza.

But it was too late. I was hosed, like Davey.

In my googley eyed, love struck state of mind, I had promised to make him his beloved homemade pizza, several times a month in fact.

Damn that love thing.

It might be what makes a Subaru a Subaru but it's also what will have me stuck in the kitchen.

Following the matching of just half of his socks, you can find me at mixer.

The abominable snow dog

It's been far too long and for that I apologize. I think it may be good for my soul to get on here and stab away at the keys for bit. So here goes. (Lord knows I've had plenty of life happenings to write about lately.)

****

Standing where I could keep a constant eye on my entire garage roof, I had a firm grip on the cell phone in my pocket. You know, in case I had to call 9-1-1.

My new fiance, saw in hand, was standing in near knee-deep snow on top of our house. But it wasn't just snow. We were in the middle of the "Snow-pocolypse" and as if a foot of thunder snow wasn't enough we were currently getting an additional 6-8 inches of a "wintry mix."

The king mutt reigning over our household took my attention from my death-defying future husband long enough to take out both knee caps as he whizzed by with one of the near dozen downed tree limbs in our yard.

Son of a .....

Yes, the weight of snow-pocolypse had gotten the better of neighborhood trees and the only being truly enjoying the outdoor happenings was our taker of knee caps, the abominable snow dog.

Bringing my focus back to the rooftops, I narrowly escaped what was sure to be bruise or two as branch crashed at my feet.

It may not have been our brightest moment, The Man tossing large branches from a slick, snowy rooftop with me dragging them into a pile below. The snow dog would be our chance at rescue should anything go wrong.

Clearing the last limb, my heart rate began to settle as The Man prepared to make his decent.

"You know that's a metal ladder and you on have snowy boots," I warned.

The usual eye roll, snort was his classic non-verbal way of saying "you can't be serious."

... "Whoa!"

I threw out my arms in high school cheerleading fashion as if I was going to catch him mid-dismount and closed my eyes.

Nothing.

Peeking upward, I realized he'd only slipped and wouldn't be crushing me into the deep, cold slush.

Phew.

Clinging to the icy ladder I spotted his safe climb down just in time for Snow Dog to send me airborne landing on my backside in a mound of snow.