Bob, I'm the victim of myself, Just for Fun, My own craziness, Randomness

How was Sweetheart’s Day?

[DISCLAIMER: I hesitated to write this because I know there are some unmarried or unattached readers who follow me, but I wanted to put this out there for anyone who might have made their significant other sleep on the sofa last night.]

I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day.

That pretty much sums up my feelings on the “holiday” that I affectionately call Sweetheart’s Day.

It’s not because I was that girl who never had a date or a boyfriend on Feb. 14th, but for me, and this is just me, I prefer my imperfect husband to a hero from a romance novel who goes “all out” on “big” days.

Bob is flawed. Flawed. Flawed. FLAWED! I won’t lie. He is. His mouth needs a filter–not because he uses filthy language, but because he doesn’t always think things through before he says them. An example: Why didn’t you just wear your robe to cook breakfast? It seems a waste to put on a dress to cook breakfast before church only to change into what you’re going to wear to church after the meal. Uh, dear, this was what I was going to wear… He has this awful tendency to interrupt me and need something at the worst time possible. An example: clothes have just come off of the fictional characters and I get a text asking me if he left his homework on the printer? After I go look and see that indeed he did, I know what’s coming, “Can you bring it up to the college for me?” Sure, dear, I wasn’t doing anything of any import. Often when we’re driving, he’ll miss his exit or turn because he’s talking. Or more recently, when he unknowingly keeps sending me inappropriate texts while I’m at the cell phone store getting my phone fixed…

Whenever he does any of these things, or exhibits any of his other unmentioned flaws, he always pulls a face, blinks his eyes and says, “You love me, don’t you?”

Yes, I do. Every day I love him. Whether it’s a good day or a not-so-good day, I love him. And for as much as I try to deny it on the not-so-good days, I know that he loves me. I know this because of how he treats me.

We’ve only celebrated Valentine’s Day once before yesterday and the only reason we did anything yesterday was because it fell on Thursday or Date Day as we call it. The first year we were married we did something. Ever since then, getting a card and trinket from him is hit and miss. We’ve never gone out to dinner (this has a lot to do with having children though, too). And the majority of my gifts (and cards) for anything from our anniversary  to my birthday to the occasional Valentine’s Day card have come from the gift shop at the hospital where he worked.

This never bothered me until someone made mention of it and made a big deal out of it. Then, suddenly it became disappointing. Bob hadn’t put enough forethought into any “special” day to order flowers (something he’s only done three times in eight years) or buy an extravagant gift, because believe me, options are limited at the gift shop. Not that I don’t still love (and wear) my set of three mis-matched socks, I do. I even still have the floppy pen that magnets to the refrigerator and the gigantic crocks. But in all of my hurt feelings, I approached him about this, and I wasn’t prepared for his answer:

“I’m an every day husband. I don’t do well planning big dates (which explains a lot in regards to our courtship, by the way). I try to show you that I love you every day, not make a huge show of it a few times a year.”

Talk about a moment where you’re caught completely off-gaurad and put in your place. It wasn’t that his words were spoken unkindly, they weren’t. They were just the honest truth. Something that in my moment of self-pity had missed. Bob helps me with the dishes and laundry almost daily. He reaches all of the high cabinets and shelves in our house for me. He rubs my feet, back and shoulders without being asked because he knows they hurt from my RA. Because I can’t see small details very well, he offers about once a month to paint my toenails. Seriously. And when I take him up on this, he goes all out: foot bath, creams, he even teases and bring out the pumice–not that I’d ever need such. Every day before I leave to take the kids to school he insists we kiss, no matter how much our kids hate to see it. He reads all of my books–and offers oh, so insightful opinions on them all. Bob also doesn’t mind and complain that I discuss him on my blog, either. LOL There are many, many things I didn’t realize that he does that while not big displays such as a giant bouquet of flowers, chocolates and some sort of gift, are just as meaningful and probably even more so to me.

I’m not saying not to appreciate and love the gifts and whatnot–do. But, if you didn’t get everything you expected or find yourself wishing he’d put a little more thought and planning into the night, you might actually have an “every day” partner, and have never realized it before!

Books, Characters, Edits from Bob, Just for Fun, My own craziness, Updates

Bob’s commentary on His Jilted Bride

A little more than a year ago, I was looking for something to post about. I know that’s hard to believe because my posts are always so well thought-out and come so frequently (if only), but there you have it. I was in need of something to say to fill a day and decided to post my husband’s wonderful assessment of my upcoming book (which at the time was Her Secondhand Groom).

I’ve tried to keep the tradition going with of the subsequent books and today, I will share Bob’s oh-so-necessary (and amusing) commentary about His Jilted Bride.

  • A vivid scene diminished by one word: brown. What color brown? Chocolate brown? Mud Brown? (another suggestion of brown that I won’t list, but you can use your imagination for).  As it turns out, I did change it, to mud brown. To which one of my crit gals complained saying, “Mud brown? I was hoping for something a bit more complimentary!” Sorry, but for an eight-year-old boy, mud brown is probably as complimentary as it’s going to get.
  • Eh, why does Alex have to be reading a book about biology? What about astrophysics? Maybe because astrophysics wasn’t introduced as a science for another 85 years?
  • Oh my! This is a little much for a five-year-old. A warm, wet kiss, makes her sound like a five-year-old prostitute. Maybe a sloppy, wet one. I bow to my husband’s immature mind. Of course he’d know how an eight-year-old boy would term a kiss better than I.
  • Amusing while confusing at the same time. 
  • Ha Ha, very funny. Can you sense the sarcasm?
  • And are they…large breasts? Typical man!
  • Is this a word? Yes, unmarriageable is a word, no matter how much the spellcheck argues it.
  • Too many periods. While he’s speaking in terms of a punctuation error I made, I had to laugh at the irony…
  • And the moral of this story is don’t —– (I’ll have to fill this one in later!)
  • Men do not speak in this fashion, especially about THAT! Oh yes, they do!
  • There was never a more untrue statement. I lie to you every day for the better. Oh, really?
  • Another moral in this fine tale! Yep, chock full of them.
  • Oh my! Scandalous! I try. I do have a reputation to uphold you know.
  • He squeezed her tush. Bottom seems so juvenile. No comment.
  • I’d laugh, but I know someone else like that…
  • I wonder where you got this from? Well, since you asked…it was you, my dear!
  • Delete.
  • You need your asterisks
  • Starfish! It’s an inside joke, I’m afraid, but the joke is in the book, in a way.
  • ?
  • What a lovely image this invokes. After reading the sentence, I’m sure it does invoke a lovely image for a man–it did for Elijah, too, or it wouldn’t be included in his thoughts.
  • Skin. Flesh makes me think of Hannibal.
  • I thought she was going to spit on them!
  • And she died right then after a heavy man collapsed on her after sex. I think I’ll try this next time. 
  • Expose their phalanges? How improper!
  • Mrs. Gordon, this needs to change. You need to protect the identity of your fallen spiders! Sorry, Mr. Fuzzinelli, you’ve been outed.
  • Ixnay.
  • And just where is that? Above her bosom? You should say it that way.
  • Maybe you should rethink bringing a mollusk into your bedroom scene. Alrighty then. No more moving at a snail’s pace. Ever.
  • News Headline: Woman is Collapsed Upon after Intercourse, Paramedics Unable to Resuscitate her. Cause of death:  suffocation. 
  • You corn dog. Guess the ending wasn’t as butch and manly as he’d hoped?

That’s all for today… I’ll be back later the the week with that one word that causes so much debate around here: Prologue!