Since I recently went on an unplanned blogging hiatus, I'll try to catch you up on a few things that have gone on in the last while around Shansland.
In this entry, I want to point out that Jamey and I recently rocked the silk/linen anniversary! Well, as much as you do rock an airy wrinkle-prone fabric on any given day. Ok, we may not have worn silk or linen but boy did we have a twelfth anniversary! Yeah buddy! And, since I couldn't find the official wedding album after looking in all the usual spots, I thought I'd show you these little black and whites of us nervously fiddling about before the actual ceremony began.
As you can see, Jamey was merely a hatchling when I married him fresh out of college. I was a mature woman of twenty-six and had enough wisdom at that point to know I would want my husband to be good and spry when his old girl needs to be put down. It really works out for both of us, I'll have a caretaker in my final days with his doogies about him. And he'll still have time once I'm off to Gloryland, to get a silver bullet Airstream loaded with all of his music gear (and a few fishing poles) and strike out on the road unhindered. That's my loose plan anyway.
No matter how it all goes down, I know I got myself a keeper. Jamey has a high tolerance for all of my high maintenance tendancies. I have yet to scare him off in my worst of times, it's true. Most days, he makes me feel like I have the hotness of Angelina Jolie (when I'm feeling more like her smoldering toilet leavings), and the mothering skills of "Ma" Ingles (when I suspect I'm a Half-pint away from being Rosanne Barr -slobbishly yelling at my kids in a whiny voice from the kitchen table.) "Eat again?? Didn't I just feed you people four hours ago?"
And Hubby-o-a dozen years does not just tell me he loves me. No, no. He does whatever it takes to make sure I am as happy and cared for as possible.
Just last evening, for example, my insulin pump blew a sensor and died as I was refilling it with medicine. This meant I would have no constant supply of insulin throughout the night and I was in for a tricky 12 hours until our pharmacy opened the next morning. Fortunately, I have my Doc's email and he immediately called in a long acting insulin to the nearest 24 hour pharmacy. Since this pharmacy was in another city 30 miles across the country darkness of Northwest Arkansas(and these eyes of mine don't DO country darkness of Northwest anywhere), my sweet husband hopped in the car without hesitation and spent the next hour and a half running my late Sunday evening errand without complaint.
That was not the first time he's had to make such a trip or otherwise drop everything else for me. He takes care of me that one. And he won't even complain when the bill for my hideously expensive newfangled pump arrives in the mail in a week or two. He's been nice like that for a good dozen + years! So, I expect I'll keep him until my own sensors make their final beeps and I'm eventually replaced by a newer model myself (well maybe model is not the best choice of words here. How about...version. Yes, I like that better.). Let's just hope we make it well past talk of silk and linen before any necessary upgrades happen and have at least a jewel or metal celebration in our sites by then.
Happy (late as usual) anniversary Sweetheart! You are the wings-that somehow use all of my wind as an energy source!! And even though that awkward phrasing would never make it into a well celebrated Bette Midler song, it still works for us somehow. Now, pass the anniversary hankie over here if you will. I'm coming down with a case of the sentimentals and my nose is starting to run. So, here's to many more...HONK!! XOXOX