Don't know how many years ago, and I don't know why I didn't post it. But it's a summer Sunday, and the father of my children has been in California for two days. As we eagerly await his return:
Five reasons I love my husband:
1) He thinks I'm a great writer.
2) He thinks I look sexy in my painting clothes.*
3) He looks sexy in his Scoutmaster uniform.
4) He let me paint our bedroom rose-beige, and only complained a little when it turned out considerably more rose than either of us expected.+
5) He never seems to lose sight of the goal of being a good person.
Five reasons I love my father:
1) He thinks I'm a great writer.
2) He makes me feel good about screwing up.
3) He introduced me to Twyla Tharp, J.D. Salinger, Kate and Anna McGarrigle, The Roches...
4) He considers it a treat to babysit my kids.
5) He's a good man, and when I went to find one of my own, I knew what to look for.
Five reasons I loved my grandfather (the only one I knew):
1) He had a great memory for poems and songs (and serial numbers)
2) He married my grandmother because she was smart and a good talker.
3) He thought it was significant and highly admirable (indicative of Irishness) that I loved mashed potatoes so much.
4) He considered it a treat to babysit me and my brother.
5) He was a good man, and he taught my father how to be one too.
*Can't remember the last time I painted anything, but he must have said that at some point.
+That was a whole house ago. This time our bedroom is painted a sort of mauve-beige. It had "sand" in the name. It's...mauver than expected, but pretty neutral really. Progress.
Why so much paint content? I don't know. Color is important to me?
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