A Patient Man = A Lucky Wife

 

It's not too often that a fortune cookie is right. Now, had I got this one just a little bit sooner I probably would have heeded its' advice that time Clark told me I was a rabid beast. Anyway, I digress.

As you can see, I spend a lot of my time talking about how Clark drives me crazy, makes me want to move to a deserted island, pluck my eyelashes out and/or stick my ears in a blender. Maybe this is a bit extreme, but it's true... that's what I do. That's why this blog was created, to provide an outlet for wives to vent their feelings of frustration but also their feelings of happiness, appreciation and respect.

The Table: A Lesson in Patience

Growing up, my brothers and I sat at the dinner table every night with my parents. This was not a choice it was a rule that was only broken on the very rare occasion that we had friends sleeping over or lots of family over for a holiday (and in the case of holiday parties we were still expected to sit at a table, just in another room...)

Now, as a twenty-something wife and "someday mother," I have come to appreciate the kitchen table and understand why this place was so important to my parents. In this world of non stop electronic humming - from phones, computers, TVs and video games - the table is the last place in the house where a family of two (or ten) can sit, talk, relax and do all of this while actually looking at each other (I didn't make this up, check out this post on the Integrated Mother). This rudimentary piece of furniture has the potential to rebuild the grounds for communication, love and family. It is a tool that no family should be without and all families should gather at at least once a day, if only for a cup of coffee.

So why on earth would I consider turning the table into my own personal bonfire?

Dress My Family Up in Corduroy

In honor of today being my husband's first day at a new job, I am going to share a memory of a time he made me laugh so hard I nearly peed my pants.

To tell the story properly, I must first share that when I was 26 my father passed away unexpectedly on Valentines Day- just a few short days before Hans had planned to ask him for permission to marry me. Hans loved my father nearly as much as I did. At his wake we knelt together to say our final goodbyes and Hans held his hand and asked him then for permission to marry me.