Ten things I love about my man

Bethany at Dandelion Pie has a blog post up about ten things that she loves about her spouse and she invited other bloggers to chime in and link up.

Well, this seems like the kind of sappy thing that a young person newly in love might do, but what about a...um...slightly older woman who has been with a man for forty years? Can she still find ten things she loves - or even likes - about him? That is my challenge, and, just for the heck of it, I decided to give it a try.

Here we go - ten things that still turn me on about the hunk that I married.

He makes me laugh. Mostly intentionally, sometimes unintentionally. When you've been living with someone for forty years, this may be be most important quality of all.
He does my laundry. Of course, I still have to put it away - he's not perfect.
He gets stuff down from the top shelf for me. I'm not as vertically challenged as some women in my family, but I'm not exactly tall either. It's nice to have a man in the house who is able to reach those top shelves and does so without complaint.
He gets me wonderful gifts - often things I didn't even know I wanted. I, on the other hand, am an inept gift giver and usually wind up getting him things that he didn't know he wanted - because he didn't!
He washes the dishes. That's one of the household duties that he took over after he retired and it is much appreciated. So appreciated that I got him a new dishwasher for Christmas, one of my more successful gift choices, as it happens.
When I yell at him for clicking his pen or making other annoying, repetitive noises, he stops. Usually.
He likes my cooking or at least pretends to, which is really the same thing, you know.
He does the grocery shopping, another of those onerous household duties that he performs without grousing. Well, without much grousing.
He's learned to love cats. He was not a cat person when I met him, but slowly, over the years, the steady stream of cats that have been part of our household have won him over, until, now, he is the favorite human and the preferred lap of our cat, Bella, who adores him.
He's given me the two most wonderful daughters in the world and he had more to do than me, I think, with making them the outstanding human beings that they are. Really, they are both "Daddy's Girls."

Well, actually, that wasn't too hard. In fact, I'll give you one more as a bonus: He puts up with me and he makes me a better person just by being him.

Maybe it wasn't such a sappy thing to do after all.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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