It occurred to me only very recently (like, yesterday) that I’ve never even so much as posted a picture of my poor husband. And that makes me feel guilty. He’s a good guy. I like him. He puts up with my Italian fantasies , he let me post a picture of his mullet. He’s even there with a video camera every time I feel like doing a little dancing. When the computer is all kerfuffled, he un-kerfuffles it. And he wouldn’t mind one bit if I freaked out and did some weird thing in front of him. In fact, he’d probably really, really like it.
And not only is he a talented and secure man, but he’s also really, very helpful around the house:
He pitches in loading the dishwasher.
He helps with the laundry.
He cleans up after kitty.
He’s very handy in the garage.
He fixes my car for me.
But it doesn’t stop there!
Oh no, no!
Hubby is a real Renaissance man.
He plays the guitar.
And he’s a voracious reader too!
He can just sit and read for hours!
And so I dedicate this post to the super important man behind the woman behind the blog. I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner.
As you can plainly see, I’m a pretty lucky lady.
- Seymore Butts
- Precut cheese has made my life easier
- The New Dishwasher
- Priceless Thursdays
- And there I was, standing there with shit in my hand