The Dilemma
Have you ever come across a time in your life where you find yourself daydreaming about the perfect man?
Usually that daydream time is stolen away from the "perfect first-day-of-school outfit" time and the "how-dirty-can-I-let-my-room-get-before-mom-cleans-it-for-me" time. Ahhh, adolescence. Sweet adolescence. I remember most of my teen years were spent fiddling around with the idea of who I would marry. Of course, my first date was when I was 18... so by "teen years" I probably mean "young adult years".
Will he be handsome? Will he be smart? What degree will he hold? Where will he work? Will he like the same things I do? Where will he live? How will we meet? Will I have food stuck in my teeth when we do?
Oh, so many uncertainties. =P
Now, after I had a quite a few dates under my belt (like, 5... hahaha!), I began to really have some fun with my daydreams. I pictured my husband cleaning the house for me before I got home. I pictured him sending me flowers... taking care of me while I'm sick... helping cook dinner. Fun stuff.
Then I got married.
...And every single thing I dreamed about came true, including dreams I never knew I had! My husband is the sweetest man I've ever known. Literally. He takes the cake.
Take, for example, that I started a new job a week ago. The past two days I've had to go to work while he's been able to roam around enjoying his days off. And for the past two days, I've come home to a clean house.
Day #1: The laundry I was planning on doing once I got home was already done. The dishes in the sink were done.
Day #2: I woke up at 5:40 am and he was already up... sitting on the floor holding his phone under the bed so the light from the screen wouldn't wake me up. What a goof. As I stumbled out of bed and somehow managed to find my way into kitchen, he mentioned that he had already done the dishes that I had forsaken from dinner the night before (including a casserole dish encrusted with noodles that I was SO avoiding). As if that wasn't enough, I came home from work to (brace yourself):
"So," you might find yourself asking, "what's with the title, Jessica? Where's the dilemma, here?!" It's because I don't know how in the world to tell this man how much I love him. It can't be done. So here I am, blogging about him. Because I can only say "I love you I love you I love you" so many times before his eye starts to twitch and the words sort of lose their meaning. So I guess my only other method is to brag him up to everyone and everything that will sit still for 2 minutes.
Have I mentioned that besides being a complete sweetheart and cleaning the house on his days off, he has helped me cook dinner, too? He nearly burned his eyes out of their sockets dicing onion that was a little too green, and went through great pains to ensure that the potatoes he peeled were all symmetrical and perfect... the list goes on and on. Can ya tell?
And he's no push-over, either, lest you get the idea that he sits around the house all day in a frilly apron, knitting a scarf and watching Oprah. That was MY job.
I swear he never has a moment's peace... someone is always calling him or texting him asking how they fix this and that on their car or truck. My husband is the ninja of all ninjas when it comes to ANYTHING automotive. Me? I can tell you the firing order of a Chevy... I think... (1-8 4-3-6-5-7-2) and the equation to calculate horsepower (torque x RPM / 5252) and the difference between a big block and small block... but, uh, that's about it. Oh, and where to put in gas and windshield washer fluid. And how to check oil and fill 'er up when she's low. Every once in a while I pretend I'm REALLY cool and I put air in the low tires. But that's the extent of my cool-ness.
Chuck, on the other hand, still currently holds the record for the fastest Neon SRT-4 in Utah (stock bottom end). Don't believe me?
http://videos.streetfire.net/video/1124-12977-MPH_200575.htm
Pssst... He's the yellow one. 11.24 seconds @ 129.77 mph. I think my car could run a 1/4 mile in, like, 30.08 seconds at 60 mph. Stand back. The speed might make your eyebrows catch on fire. ;)
Anywhoo, I love him. So much, in fact, that I'm totally gonna go roast a 'mallow with him and laugh it up with the rest of the familia. Peace out!
Oh, and have I mentioned that he's the best darn marshmallow roaster this side of the Mississippi? Yeah. I'm one lucky woman. :)
Usually that daydream time is stolen away from the "perfect first-day-of-school outfit" time and the "how-dirty-can-I-let-my-room-get-before-mom-cleans-it-for-me" time. Ahhh, adolescence. Sweet adolescence. I remember most of my teen years were spent fiddling around with the idea of who I would marry. Of course, my first date was when I was 18... so by "teen years" I probably mean "young adult years".
Will he be handsome? Will he be smart? What degree will he hold? Where will he work? Will he like the same things I do? Where will he live? How will we meet? Will I have food stuck in my teeth when we do?
Oh, so many uncertainties. =P
Now, after I had a quite a few dates under my belt (like, 5... hahaha!), I began to really have some fun with my daydreams. I pictured my husband cleaning the house for me before I got home. I pictured him sending me flowers... taking care of me while I'm sick... helping cook dinner. Fun stuff.
Then I got married.
...And every single thing I dreamed about came true, including dreams I never knew I had! My husband is the sweetest man I've ever known. Literally. He takes the cake.
Take, for example, that I started a new job a week ago. The past two days I've had to go to work while he's been able to roam around enjoying his days off. And for the past two days, I've come home to a clean house.
Day #1: The laundry I was planning on doing once I got home was already done. The dishes in the sink were done.
Day #2: I woke up at 5:40 am and he was already up... sitting on the floor holding his phone under the bed so the light from the screen wouldn't wake me up. What a goof. As I stumbled out of bed and somehow managed to find my way into kitchen, he mentioned that he had already done the dishes that I had forsaken from dinner the night before (including a casserole dish encrusted with noodles that I was SO avoiding). As if that wasn't enough, I came home from work to (brace yourself):
- a freshly vacuumed floor (yes, I could still see the lines =D) in the living room and bedroom.
- a sink that was not only clear of the cereal bowl I had left in there from breakfast, but was CLEANED (I mean, "I can now practically see myself in the sink that before was growing legs" clean).
- new strategically placed D-con to trap the mouse (mice) living in our walls.
- a fresh batch of homemade salsa (a trademark recipe for the man I love--he's pretty much a pro on the salsa front).
- a squeaky clean red Dodge Cummins in the driveway.
- and a man whom I think is so incredibly smokin' hot cleaning the bathroom.
"So," you might find yourself asking, "what's with the title, Jessica? Where's the dilemma, here?!" It's because I don't know how in the world to tell this man how much I love him. It can't be done. So here I am, blogging about him. Because I can only say "I love you I love you I love you" so many times before his eye starts to twitch and the words sort of lose their meaning. So I guess my only other method is to brag him up to everyone and everything that will sit still for 2 minutes.
Have I mentioned that besides being a complete sweetheart and cleaning the house on his days off, he has helped me cook dinner, too? He nearly burned his eyes out of their sockets dicing onion that was a little too green, and went through great pains to ensure that the potatoes he peeled were all symmetrical and perfect... the list goes on and on. Can ya tell?
And he's no push-over, either, lest you get the idea that he sits around the house all day in a frilly apron, knitting a scarf and watching Oprah. That was MY job.
I swear he never has a moment's peace... someone is always calling him or texting him asking how they fix this and that on their car or truck. My husband is the ninja of all ninjas when it comes to ANYTHING automotive. Me? I can tell you the firing order of a Chevy... I think... (1-8 4-3-6-5-7-2) and the equation to calculate horsepower (torque x RPM / 5252) and the difference between a big block and small block... but, uh, that's about it. Oh, and where to put in gas and windshield washer fluid. And how to check oil and fill 'er up when she's low. Every once in a while I pretend I'm REALLY cool and I put air in the low tires. But that's the extent of my cool-ness.
Chuck, on the other hand, still currently holds the record for the fastest Neon SRT-4 in Utah (stock bottom end). Don't believe me?
http://videos.streetfire.net/video/1124-12977-MPH_200575.htm
Pssst... He's the yellow one. 11.24 seconds @ 129.77 mph. I think my car could run a 1/4 mile in, like, 30.08 seconds at 60 mph. Stand back. The speed might make your eyebrows catch on fire. ;)
Anywhoo, I love him. So much, in fact, that I'm totally gonna go roast a 'mallow with him and laugh it up with the rest of the familia. Peace out!
Oh, and have I mentioned that he's the best darn marshmallow roaster this side of the Mississippi? Yeah. I'm one lucky woman. :)
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