Everytime someone comments on how long Danny and I have been together, Danny likes to say: “long time to be towing the anchor”. He likes to say a lot of things like that. I think it’s funny. I think he’s always funny.
We just got back from our annual summer trip to Maine the other day, and I’m exhausted. I spent yesterday snuggling with our cats. Our older orange tabby kept meowing at me all night when we returned, and all he wanted was to snuggle. So, I slept in and snuggled. Then, I took a bath and went back to bed to nap and snuggle with the cats.
I was interrupted a few times because Danny found a new building project, and I had to hold some boards. I had to hold more boards today. In the two days since we came home, I guess I did a few things. I did all of our laundry. I did some cooking, reading, writing, and I also held some boards.
Danny designed a new cabinet, cut boards, started the new shelves, made a few trips to get mulch in Boulder, did some weed-wacking, mowing, watering, dishes, litter boxes...I could go on.
We love our lives. He jokes about towing the anchor, and, frankly, sometimes, I think he is. But he doesn’t mean a word of it. He loves to work, and he hates to have help. He hates that he has to ask me to hold a board, though he’s gotten better at that. He thanks me for my patience when I help him with his building projects.
I thank him for his patience with me and my desire to read on the couch and snuggle with cats.
Tomorrow is our 31rst wedding anniversary. I asked Danny today what he wanted to do. He looked at me, then smiled. “Oh, that’s tomorrow.” I know what he wants to do. He wants to keep working on his new project.
We’ll go to dinner later. Or, I’ll make some dinner and run to town for some champagne.
He’s not towing an anchor, and he did not forget our anniversary.
I don’t want dinner. I don’t want flowers. I want what I have: Danny playing cribbage with my father every day while we were in Maine, listening to the stories he’s heard for 35 years, Danny driving us around Maine to see people, Danny taking care of the plants in my writing studio he built me, Danny kissing me on the cheek every morning, while I slumber, after he’s made the coffee, watered our garden and deck flowers, and fed the birds.
I am lucky.
We just got back from our annual summer trip to Maine the other day, and I’m exhausted. I spent yesterday snuggling with our cats. Our older orange tabby kept meowing at me all night when we returned, and all he wanted was to snuggle. So, I slept in and snuggled. Then, I took a bath and went back to bed to nap and snuggle with the cats.
I was interrupted a few times because Danny found a new building project, and I had to hold some boards. I had to hold more boards today. In the two days since we came home, I guess I did a few things. I did all of our laundry. I did some cooking, reading, writing, and I also held some boards.
Danny designed a new cabinet, cut boards, started the new shelves, made a few trips to get mulch in Boulder, did some weed-wacking, mowing, watering, dishes, litter boxes...I could go on.
We love our lives. He jokes about towing the anchor, and, frankly, sometimes, I think he is. But he doesn’t mean a word of it. He loves to work, and he hates to have help. He hates that he has to ask me to hold a board, though he’s gotten better at that. He thanks me for my patience when I help him with his building projects.
I thank him for his patience with me and my desire to read on the couch and snuggle with cats.
Tomorrow is our 31rst wedding anniversary. I asked Danny today what he wanted to do. He looked at me, then smiled. “Oh, that’s tomorrow.” I know what he wants to do. He wants to keep working on his new project.
We’ll go to dinner later. Or, I’ll make some dinner and run to town for some champagne.
He’s not towing an anchor, and he did not forget our anniversary.
I don’t want dinner. I don’t want flowers. I want what I have: Danny playing cribbage with my father every day while we were in Maine, listening to the stories he’s heard for 35 years, Danny driving us around Maine to see people, Danny taking care of the plants in my writing studio he built me, Danny kissing me on the cheek every morning, while I slumber, after he’s made the coffee, watered our garden and deck flowers, and fed the birds.
I am lucky.
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