February 7nth

marks a giant turning point in my life, it was the day I married Joshua.

  Life has never quite been the same & I mean that in the best way it could be meant. I remember the first time I drove down to see him (we were both living in California at that point ) I rambled on and on to the poor guy about how I most CERTAINLY did NOT want any "man"/boyfriend/relationship in my life. To this day I cannot understand what possesed me to have the little speech. Over the grilled chicken and asparagus he had fixed me he just nodded and agreed. I think he was having trouble fathoming my speech also. I remember seeing him stand in his kitchen (clean kitchen, no, spotless kitchen) and thinking to myself, I would never marry a boy like him. He was blond, tall, tan, macho, kind, pretty much the all american boy. Well nevermind, I married him.

  Then he came to see me a few weeks later, he thought we should go hike up Big Bear.

Me: He should be here about now
My Nerves: Wow my hair is retarded
Me: Go look out the window
My Nerves: Change the shirt I just put on.
Me: Go get a drink of water
My Nerves: My hair really is retarded
Me: Go pee
My Nerves: Change back into the previous shirt
Me: Check my phone
My Nerves: Why did I agree to this again?
Me: He really is here

. . . and walking up the sidewalk barefoot, swimming trunks on, & a green shirt that came from the recycle bag because the ribbing on the neck was hanging on by 3 threads. Apparently no nerves involved while he dressed. Wow I am really waco. Then I find out he has fresh baked banana bread in his pick-up. Never  mind the "I don't want a boyfriend speech" I'm going to marry him. Period. Flat-out. . . .& I pretty much kept that resolve until February 7nth 2009. He has changed my life. I love that all-american boy. Every day I wait patiently for 4:00 because I get to see his face. I can't wait to see him when he's 80. I hope he will ask me to sit on the porch when it's raining and drink a good cup of Jo while we rehash the same stories about the kids that have been rehashed 300 times over.

. . . Now. . . he will not like the fact that I put a picture
up of him without his shirt. I certainly do not mind
looking at it. This was up on top of the mountain
we hiked that day. Hotter than
all get out. The shirt actually, probably
fell off, due to it's age.

my dashing boy