Here, on this Father’s Day, are 30 of the many reasons I love my husband Superman:
- He has the most fabulous arms.
- He never leaves the house without saying “I love you” to each of us. He will walk up and down the stairs to make sure he accomplishes this.
- He makes me laugh every day.
- He snuggles with each of the kids on the couch anytime they ask. (Which is pretty much every night.)
- He loves that our teenage son still hugs him in public.
- He makes the Most. Amazing. Salsa. Ev-ah.
- He writes me e-mails in the middle of the day just to say he loves me.
- He has a great body.
- He loves all manly things: football, motorcycles, golf, surfing, beer, gadgets, women and blue jeans.
- He looks great in his blue jeans.
- He makes me and the kids Sunday brunch every week (usually egg burritos and salsa — yum).
- He pulls over if he sees a car stranded in the middle of the road and helps push it like some kind of superhero.
- He calls my mom just to talk to her.
- He instituted a Saturday night sleepover for the kids when they were small, and it’s a tradition we continue to this day.
- He loves traditions.
- He’s very generous and helps me be more so.
- He has interesting interests and follows them with a passion. They change over the years, but I love that he has them. Examples: tikis, midcentury modern design, presidents, WWII, football, baseball.
- He knows an outrageous amount of trivia about tikis, midcentury modern design, presidents, WWII, football and baseball.
- He does crossword puzzles every day.
- He takes each of our kids on a “10-year-old’s road trip,” which is a weekend road trip of their choice with just dad. Child 1 went to Oregon to see a Ducks game. Child 2 went to the coastal city of Carmel and to the aquarium there. And here’s the trip with Child 3.
- He keeps a “Happiness Book” of the kids’ drawings and named it such because it brings him joy.
- He had to bury a brother and his mom, and, perhaps consequently, loves his family like there’s no tomorrow.
- He hates to fly, but will.
- He loves Tahoe and Yosemite as much as I do.
- He holds my hand over the console in the car.
- He encourages me to do things that make me happy, whether it’s walking up to the book store or scrapbooking until midnight.
- He still gets nervous about buying me presents.
- He taught our daughter how to throw a football.
- He shows our kids every day how to treat a woman with respect.
- He is quite possibly the best father on earth.
Happy Father’s Day, babe!
One of my favorite singer-songwriters is Lyle Lovett. He has the most fabulous voice, a great band, hilarious lyrics, and songs with a beginning/middle/end. He never lets me down.
And when he performs with his “Large Band” – mingling jazz with country, and sometimes just enough hand-clapping gospel – well, I’m smitten.
(Plus, any cowboy in a suit is going to impress me. …)
Here’s Lyle Lovett’s “Church.” Turn it up, clap along, and listen to this singer-storyteller weave the funny tale about a congregation trapped in church, starving, while the preacher goes on and on and on and on …
Lyle Lovett’s “Church,” YouTube
"California Landmark" - Photo by C. Sanchez, 2006
Do you know where this is?
At my job, I’m always looking at blogs, and some of the names really catch my attention. The funny names always intrigue me. Here are some of my favorites:
Do you have some blogs whose names you just love? Share them with us! I love a little “clever” on a Monday morning. …
So I’m minding my own business (really), just doing some laundry, staring out the window as I fold some T-shirts, and I see this woman get out of the car inside my neighbor’s garage. She’s definitely not my neighbor. And she’s too old to be a girlfriend for the teen boy who lives there. She might possibly be a niece or an aunt or something. … But then I see the man-of-the-house get out of the car, and he puts his arm around her. Hmmm. … I move closer to the window. I recall a few months ago seeing the woman-of-the-house leaving with a man I didn’t recognize, too. … They were kind of laughing together, running down the porch steps to a sports car parked in front of the house. But I thought maybe it was her brother or something. I wasn’t sure. And now, this … So what’s going on? Swingers’ parties? Divorce? Are they all living there? Are they sharing the house and bringing respective dates? I press my face closer to the window … I’m fascinated. …
This all makes me think, though, about my across-the-street neighbor when I was growing up: Marge. She was one of those neighbors who knew everyone, and who knew everyone’s business. She would come across the street at least once a day and walk inside the door, yelling “yoo-hoo” through the entry way, and my mom would roll her eyes at me. My mom finally had to start locking the door when she mopped the entryway, or else we’d have Marge’s footprints all over the tile.
Marge would pull up a barstool and lay her cigarettes on the countertop. Continue reading