Married 34.5 years and still at it; we breathe, sleep, play, have discussions of both kinds, and work. Well, he still works, I am retired. My work is to think, brainstorm, or just scheme ways he can retire. I do fine with the first two, obviously not doing too well at the latter.
And, yes, we are opinionated as much as the next person, though, a lot less than many.
He admits to being an actor; I to being a writer/poet. Though I see the writer in him, he hasn’t accepted that I am right – as usual!
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June 1, 2007
I wrote a poem today, our 33rd anniversary. Not that I haven’t written poems nearly every day in the past year. . . Is it one of my best? No, not at all. . . I can write about other people’s heartache and my own, about stupidity and fun, about this meaning that, but when it comes to writing love poems for Leon, I suck, plain and simple. It is like the words are so personal, so private, my heart refuses to share them. Perhaps, because writing and sharing my words are so much a part of me that my mind tells my heart to hold something for just me. . . Sounds possible, doesn’t it, but reality is, I just suck at love poems and he really really deserves the perfect one (NO. I am not going to let go of him so someone else can write one for him, we don’t always get what we want. – Insert grin here-)
So, the poem does have something to say, however, here: Love: All of This and More (On our 33rd)
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I had declared Fridays a day for Kudos, but that organization went by the wayside as I found myself experimenting. The good news is, I am again ready to organize; the bad news is, I haven’t decided what or how yet.
Some Fridays were to be about organizations, but the day I wrote this on the original blog, the following simple kudos to Leon poured onto this page: He makes one aspect of my life easier: using public restrooms. Yes, he makes it easier whether at a highway rest stop or a local restaurant and store. And any husband or friend could do the same. Just do for yours as Leon does for me while I run in the most times YUCK! restroom:
Hold my coat
Hold my purse
Hold my camera
Hold the bags I am carrying (or the books or keys or coffee. . .)
And one he forgets: remind me to tie my long hair back so it doesn’t accidentally make contact with anything!)
It may seem like a little thing, but judging by the envious looks I get from the women whose husbands refuse to touch their purses in public. . . it is not.
And remember, y’all, many of you are hugging her in that coat that got drug on the floor or worse. . .
Thank you, Leon, for making an unpleasant experience (I HATE public restrooms) much better. And you wear my purse quite well, after all you’ve had years of practice.
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