to sir, with love

Mama's back, folks, and it ain't been pretty. Over the holidays, my family went from point A to point B with the velocity of a jet plane. On crack. With super sonic turbo boosters. Yep, four weeks and five days ago, I was doing a snippy tête-à-tête at Home Depot with my husband over how to place the Christmas tree on top of my precious Honda without scratching it and now?...well, my love continues to duke it out with the biggest, meanest, snarliest obstacle he's ever laid his sweet, kind brown eyes on. Having caught a "sniffle" a few weeks back, it morphed into a vicious pneumonia...then that basically grew into Freddy Kreuger. So there it stands. But enough of that. For now anyway. I want to talk about who he is.

When I cranked this puppy up about three months ago, I did it for a lot of reasons...not just to ramble about things nesting in my weird head or as a late-night escape...something to call my own for a stay-at-home mom who needed it in a big way, not just as an homage to my friends and family who have been and continue to be my greatest fortune but also as a sort of cyber vitamin B shot for the soul. Stories of ordinary Joes doing the extraordinary...just a wee sunbeam in a rainy day media saturated world...a sometimes silly one, but a sunbeam nonetheless. I mean, it feels good to read something that isn't about Britney Spears, right? I didn't know that less than 90 days later, I'd be putting my husband front and center. Oh, sure, I know how nifty he is..his kids know..his family and friends know this cool fella..but just in case some of you readers may be wondering...

My guy was born in a beautifully stark faraway land without trees, but home to one of the biggest bird populations on the globe. He sang, danced & acted his way through college to finally land in Hollywood, one of the three glam cities in which he has lived, where he first met Mama, on stage, in a small theatre nestled in the foothills. We shared our first date over vodka & sodas at a tiny table in the corner of an Irish pub and talked well over five hours that night. We spent many evenings after that nestled in front of his tiny stone fireplace with a huge orange cat named Fritz that gave me toothy kisses on my chin. During the next few months, our love story blossomed over "coffee and O.J." in the mornings as the Simpson trial was in session and held us both captive. He has impeccable timing. He is a man of deep faith. He is the funniest person I know. He is addicted to TCM. He is loyal and good and a glass is always half-full kind of guy. He was born to be a daddy. And he loves me more than anyone has ever loved me. Warts and all. And now, after ten years, I am humbled and honored beyond belief to be his wife and in jaw dropping awe at his courage, strength and determination. He is my knight in shining armor and he is headed homeward. He may be sitting side saddle holding an oxygen tank, but he is coming home and there's a sunset with our names written all over it.