NOW He Says He'll Keep Me

My husband refused to give me permission to put the following picture, from the 94-95 Burley High School Yearbook, here on my blog. I asked a dozen times, always, "no." I said, "Fine. But you have to bring some candy home for me. If you don't bring candy, I will take that as your tacit permission to use this picture.

No candy.

*****

I met the guy who would be my husband in choir in 1994.
There he is. Big glasses. Smarmy smirk. He's wearing a necklace, for crying out loud. After I got to know him, he turned out to be a big, filthy minded jerk. He played Magic the Gathering. He sang in choir and acted like an idiot in plays. (Husband Note: It's true. Look at that necklace! What was I thinking??? Disgusting...)

Then there was me.
I made that necklace my very own self. I was kind of cute. Not now, but back then - perhaps if I hadn't been engaged at 17 and married at 20 ... ah well, no use thinking that way now. Hrumph. Band, drama, speech, debate (State Debate). And, in 94-95 - choir.

I auditioned for Bel Cantos on a bizarre whim. I got in and had to take early morning seminary to make up for it - I liked electives. Greg was in choir, too. Son of a piano/voice teacher, he thought he was all that, maybe he was, but ... ug ... so arrogant.

Eventually (after a very dedicated and persistent pursuit), that dorky guy won my heart and we got married.

It was all truly, truly fate.

So. Yes. I have spent the last 10 years of my life as married old woman, dedicating my life to husband, home, and children.

Join me in my bedroom. Last night, and it was a late night, like 2am, our "pillow talk" goes something like this:

Him: I've decided I don't want you to die.

Me: Really? Thanks? I don't want you to die either?

Him: It would be hard to replace you.

Me: Why is that?

Him: You're smart.

Me: Mmm, no, not really...

Him: You're as smart as me.

Me: What made you decide all this? Did you talk to a pretty girl and she was stupid?

Him: Uh ... no ... I just decided and thought I should tell you.

Me: Okay. Thanks sweetie.

*****

I went ahead and told my six year old that silly old Greek tale, Oedipus (it is in our Greek Tales book). Eddie, we called him. Crichton thought it was funny.

A few days later, in front of Gramma, Cri asks, "What was that guy's name? The one who killed his dad, married his mom, then she killed herself, and he poked out his eyes?" Such a good memory, that one.

"Oedipus?"

"Yup. That was it," he chuckles.

My mom gives me a weird look. I ignore it.


*****

oops, comments fixed now?