by jphilo | Jul 27, 2010 | Family
Whoever came up with the saying “A picture’s worth a thousand words” sure knew what she was talking about. We just received the disc of pictures taken in the photo booth at Anne and her husband’s wedding, and they are priceless.
Hiram and I have laughed ourselves silly looking at the shenanigans of friends and family during the wedding reception. Give a guest, young or old, some costumes to wear and a black box to clown around in, and whammo, the inner child comes out.
My inner child, along with my innate fashion sense, emerged once I put on a furry hat, Groucho Marx glasses and a clown collar. And Hiram, in Gerald Burghduff’s old cowboy hat and googly glasses was one handsome hunka-munka. How could I resist either sticking my finger in his nose or kissing him?
Lest you think my actions were highly original, let me assure you that there were at least 5 other nose pokes and 14 couples who took advantage of the photo booth’s privacy to have a quick smooch.
Most of those couples were as old as me, which brings up the second subject of this post. Today is my birthday, and yes, I’m old enough to know better than to stick my finger in my husband’s nose. I’m also old enough to think twice about posting a picture of the two of us smooching. But after thinking twice, I decided it was exactly the right thing to do. After all, both my recently married children indulged in a photo booth smooch with their respective spouses. I need to set a good example, right? After all, my greatest hope for our children’s marriages is that at age 54 they still want to catch a smooch with their sweeties when the opportunity arises.
Happy marriage to you, Allen.
Happy marriage to you, Anne.
Happy anniversary, dear Hiram,
And happy birthday to me.
by jphilo | Jul 9, 2009 | Family
Today marks our thirty-second wedding anniversary, and the celebration began this morning when Hiram and I exchanged cards. I had forgotten to get his card ready ahead of time and was sneaking off to find it when he intercepted me. “Happy Anniversary,” he said, and held out a card.
“I have a card for you, too,” I announced in my own defense. “It’s just not ready yet.”
“It’s probably way better than mine,” he assured me. “This one’s just from the hospital gift shop.”
“Well,” I assured him, “the card I have for you is the one I forgot to give you last year. I can’t even remember what it says. So I’m sure the card you’re giving me is better.”
He waited while I signed his card, slipped it into the envelope and presented it to him with a flourish. He opened it and read the sweet note which was, I must admit, a very lovely summary of why I love him. At the same time, I read his card, a rather long free verse poem by Linda Lee Elrod about how love grows as couples share the trials and joys of life.
I was getting teary-eyed when he said, “The card you gave me is way better than that thing.” He gestured to the one in my hand. “It’s just bunch of words about old people going through hard times together.”
I burst out laughing, and once again understood why our marriage has endured over thirty years. My husband is the humblest man I know, generous, honest and totally without guile, always willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. He is a gracious gift from God, and the only person who can put up with me.
And for our anniversary, he stopped in the gift shop in the hospital where he works and picked out a card with a bunch of words about old people going through hard times together. What’s not to love about a man like that?
by jphilo | Jul 9, 2008 | Family
Only a very patient man could stay married to me for thirty-one years. And one of the greatest blessings God has given me – in addition to two great kids, parents who loved me, siblings who support me and a great haircut – is an incredibly patient husband.
Every night he asks about my day. He listens while I gush about the good things and rant about the bad things, like computers that refuse to burn DVDs like they’re supposed to – not that I’m obsessing about the topic, but it takes a few days to calm down.
When I can’t comprehend mechanical stuff, he patiently explains engines to me, even though I have never in thirty-one years been able to get beyond the power switch of any appliance and I have trouble with that unless the one and off ends are labeled.
He likes my cooking. He’s my biggest supporter so far as my writing and speaking go. He puts up with all my errors in the checkbook.
He’s seen me at my best and at my worst, and he still loves me.
And every once in a while, not very often, he reads this blog. I’ll know when it happens. Because after thirty-one years, when I tell him something nice, he still blushes.
