my green heart

{get off me}

Disclaimer: this is a day late, I should have written this yesterday but I was too busy enjoying the day. Apologies.

On the 17th March, 461, not yet Saint, Patrick died. Five hundred years later, people in Ireland began observing the Roman Catholic feast day of St. Patrick, but more importantly (to me anyway), 1549 years later, The Husband and I got married, in a little chapel in Lenox, Massachusetts (where my great-grandparents had been married like a 100+ years before, but probably not on St Patrick's Day).

So whereas St. Patrick's Day might mean the wearing of the green for others, for me, it's now the day I wear my heart on my sleeve. That said, today is all about The Husband, and what I love oh so much about him (just a few things though, none of us have that kind of time).

+ Sometimes, he decides that a Saturday might be Skippy Day. Which is basically a day where I am to be treated like a princess while The Husband and Fifty wait on me (this never turns out as wonderful as it sounds, but God love him, he tries... you can read about past Princess Skippy Day disasters here and here).

+ I can usually, like 99% of the time, pick out what we watch on TV.

+ Whenever we go out to dinner, and I can't finish my plate, we switch plates and he finishes mine (I don't know why this makes me happy but it does). 

+ He is a super easy going, go with the flow kind of guy (so I'm basically the yin to his yang) and when he hasn't done something that makes me want to rip his head right off, he keeps me pretty chill.

+ He would lasso the moon, wrap it up in a bow, and give it to me if he could.

+ When I discovered that he had never heard of Dr. Seuss (and was horrified) he curled up on the couch while Aidan's daughter read some to him. A D O R A B L E.

+ Back in Dublin, when we had only been together a couple of months, I got sick. Like really sick. The doctors said it was a viral infection and sent me home to my mother's.  I was in bed for days with a high fever not really able to walk around, or eat or anything (it was one of those lose six pounds kind of sicknesses) and everyday, The Husband would come over and sick next to my bed while I slept. And everyday my mother would ask me why he was there. I think that's when she figured out that he was going to be different.

+ He loves what he calls 'the funk' (think Kool & the Gang and Barry White) and will dance around the house and sing badly to it (this is very entertaining for Fifty and me).

+ He loves me and I love him.

It's pretty much a mutual appreciation society over here.

bisou