CHILD'S PLAY

Drinking caffeine in it's purest, most unadulterated form...over rabbit poop ice, with birds chirping and me smiling. Ah, simple joys, people. Simple joys.

To be honest, I've had a lot of simple joys lately. The simple joy wrappers litter my counter tops, nightstand and pockets of my bathrobe. Obviously, I've been paying close attention to everyone's vinyl lettering and wooden letter blocks that TELL me, in NO uncertain terms, to simplify. And what better way, than by finding simple joy in Child's Play? And by Child's Play, I'm referring to that ENORMOUS BAG REMINISCENT OF LEFTOVER HALLOWEEN CANDY CALLED 'CHILD'S PLAY' THAT YOU CAN BUY AT YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD TARGET!

Plus, then you get a bag of Smarties to dump into the strainer bowl, and you have very CLEVER, AND AMUSED CHILDREN. Because it's all about the kids, friends. All about the kids. Okay, wait. I already said it was about simple joys. Well...why can't it be about both? Thus it becomes all about the simple joys of intelligent, frolicking children, which means I'm a better mother than you! See? In the end, it's all about me. Duh.

Which is better than having it be about my husband, as the poor lad has read one too many references toward his swollen uvula. And rather than take comfort in the fact that part (most) of what I blog about has no basis in reality, and is a magnificent exaggeration of practically everything, he has started questioning his worth to me as husband, celestial companion, father of my children, reason for my heart to go on beating.

And I can't blame him. If I were to pull up his thoughts and feelings on the computer, day after day, and find references~albeit embellished~about the woman sitting in her robe at noon thirty, with a partially peeled facial mask hanging from her chin, I might feel, oh, less than appreciated and adored.

So it's time for a little reality version of Lisa's husband~to counterbalance the gibberish I'm guilty of typing out day after day. For the record, he is HIGHEST HEIGHTS...in humor because he thinks I'm hilarious, in kindness toward my parents when his very own have left this world, in strength of character proven as a successful business owner, in overlooking my faults which I like to suggest are kind of invisible, in loving his children when I can't, in loving his wife on silent Sunday mornings, in providing for our family beyond my wildest dreams, in being long suffering when told to climb yet another relationship mountain, in turning his weaknesses into strengths, in gifting me OFTEN AND GLEEFULLY with pink and yellow roses and diamonds and rabbit poop ice makers, in being blind to my two different sized eyes, in recalling only the good in our marriage and thinking I'm the reason for it. And short of hot gluing multi-colored feathers to my underarms~giving me wings to fly~then pointing and shouting to anyone who'll listen, "That's my wife right there. Oh, wow! Would you look at her soar!"

And so, I make a blog announcement to one and all that I CHOOSE STERLING! Over and over and over again.

And do you hear that?

My heart continues to beat...

...because he chooses me.

Thank you, dear man. For choosing me.