Today it’s all about The Husband.
This morning, turning on my laptop and making my coffee, The Husband asked, “what are you writing today?”
“I’m not sure yet, I’ll see.”
“You never write about me. Why don’t you ever write about me?”
Um, OK. I didn’t know he was feeling so ignored by Le Blog.
So today is all about The Husband with a few little tidbits….
1. He is the worst cook. But he does try. I wish he wouldn’t. When we first started dating in Dublin, he wanted to make lunch for me. He threw some potatoes, lardons, and onion in a skillet. I could see where he was going with this but maybe the potatoes shouldn’t have been in such big chunks. Maybe they should have been parboiled first. Maybe some seasonings would have been nice. Maybe I should have suggested we go out instead.
(And of course there was that salad that he made me, which was a bit of endive with like five different types of cheese covering it).
2. He has two grandparents from France, one from Italy, and one from Sweden, but the one from Sweden’s DNA beat the swizzlers out of the other DNA. The Husband looks Swedish. Or because I’m American, when we go out and about, he looks American. Sometimes shopkeepers will approach speaking English instead of French. This drives him nutty. But then, he’ll speak in English and the shopkeeper will continue in English, and two French people will have a conversation in
bad English in a shop in France.
3. He likes to sing. It’s not good. Plus, he’s sings the most awful songs and gets the words all wrong… Bad Boys Bad Boys whatacanado whatacanado whatacanado (WTF is whatacanado?!). Whatacanado will be repeated ad nauseam. (It’s kind of endearing, if he didn’t do it first thing in the morning. Mommy needs her coffee first). Oh, and sometimes there’s dancing too.
4. Last night he got his finger stuck inside a beer bottle. And after he got it out, he showed me how he had gotten it stuck by sticking his finger back inside of it. Guess what happened next…
5. When we met, I was under the impression that that was the very first time The Husband had seen me (it was the first time I had seen him). He has recently confessed that he had seen me a couple times that night before we ‘bumped into each other’. I think that’s sweet. Stalker.
(Bad cooking. Bad singing. Bad dancing. Love it.)
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