Thursday, October 29, 2009

{ A few of his favorite things }

Husband made up a song today. He sings it to the tune of "My Favorite Things" from the movie The Sound of Music.

His song starts like this: "Jesus and Nikki and burgers and bacon..."

I <3 him.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

{ All for Love }

This is my husband. His name is Mike. I love him with all my heart.

Mike loves me with all his heart, too. He lets me take endless photos of us when we are on romantical dates.

(can't you just hear him thinking, "Good grief...this is the seventeenth photo of us in this booth...")

One of the ways I know he loves me is because he takes me seriously when I say things like, "Babe, are you going to enter the pie-eating contest? You know, the one our friends are having at their Housewarming Hoe-down Hootenanny party?" (Yes, we have friends who call their housewarming party a hootenanny, ask you dress up Western, have dancing and hay bales in their car port, and hold a pie-eating contest.) Mike doesn't really want to eat an entire pie as fast as he can, without using his hands. Actually, he doesn't really like pie. But he knows I really want him to enter the pie-eating contest. I do. It just sounds like so much fun. And even when I'm starving, I eat about half my meal and then I'm full, so I don't stand a chance of winning. So Mike smiles and kisses me and says "Yes."

Aaron, Mike, and half of Luke. Eat, baby, eat! You can do it!!

Mr. made short work of that pie. He finished in just over two and a half minutes, tying for first. I probably would have burst if you'd poked me with a pin, I was so proud. I bragged that competitive eating is one of his spiritual gifts. Once that 8-inch round of graham cracker crust and frozen whipped topping was no longer threatening to make a second appearance, I think Mike agreed that it was worth the pain.

"I feel sick!"

About a week later, Mr. called me excitedly to say that he had signed up for a hot dog eating contest at work. For charity. His coworkers could pledge any dollar amount per hot dog that he ate, and the company would match those pledges. He was very excited and wanted me to buy hot dogs so he could practice.

All I can think is, "What have I done?! He didn't even want to compete in the pie-eating contest, and now he's voluntarily enlisting himself in competitive eating events! I don't think starting him down this path qualifies as being a helper suitable!"

And so, two days ago, Mr. ate seven hot dogs in ten minutes. He tied for third place. Together, he and a teammate raised $1000 for local charities.

Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Using your skills and talents to help others!

But seriously, no more eating contests, k?