Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Three is a magic number
What were you doing three years ago? Hmm? I was meeting my hubba hubba hubby, Scope, face-to-face for the very first time. He flew 2000 miles from Chicago to Seattle just to meet little ol' me. I met him at the airport and then spent the weekend showing him all around Seattle. And what a weekend it was! He put on a Princess Leia wig/hat and re-enacted a scene from Star Wars outside in front of real live people. And I showed him the life-size Dobby the House Elf statue in my living room.... and he didn't even run away screaming!
It was magic, I swear. And every day since has just been more and more magical. I mean, we STILL haven’t even had our first fight yet—and I’m a redhead AND a Leo! Crazy, huh? I know! Oh, sure, we sometimes have different opinions on things…. like how many pickled jalapenos a person can eat before they should rightfully expect their innards to liquefy and shoot out their bum like jet fuel. (I say zero. Just a whiff of their scent will do it.) (Scope says half a jar…. and then he runs for the bathroom in a panic and realizes I’m right.) But as for a fight or an argument? Nope. Never had one of those in the three years we’ve been together.
It’s been an amazing, wonderful three years! Because Scope makes everything he comes within four yards of amazing and wonderful without even trying to. (Yeah, I don’t know how he does it either, but when I find out his secret, I’ll let you know.)
To my dear, sweet, handsome, sexy** Scope; Happy Anniversary. I love you so very, very much, and I am thankful every single day that you were brave enough to get on that plane three years ago so our paths could cross. You’re my Superman! And I can’t wait to see what the next three (and thirteen!) (and thirty!) years will bring. I bet it will be awesome.... just like you!
(**And, yeah, yeah, I know “the censors” have banned me from using words like ‘sexy’ here and I’m not supposed to throw that word around any more or say that I think my husband is attractive in case it somehow “alarms” my teenager (….*confused stare*….), but, frankly, today I really don’t care. At. All. And he IS sexy. Duh. So there.)