It's our ninth wedding anniversary! Last night, we had a rare night out to the Apex in Bury St Edmunds, to listen to a fantastic band playing "Django a la Creole". They were epically talented whenever they picked up their instruments, but the lead clarinet kept trying to talk to us in between songs, which he did in a sort of incomprehensible croonmumble into the microphone. As he announced their encore at the end of the night, I was absolutely sure that he had said the next song, a Nat King Cole standard, would be called "I Love You For Several Mental Reasons". Was quite disappointed when it turned out to be 'sentimental'.
Still, on our anniversary, here are several mental reasons why I love TheRev:
He includes me in his eclectic tastes in music, even though I am still not sure what 'Creole' means musically.
He finances my self-employed career that is at times merely a glorified hobby, encourages me in it as a ministry and proudly tells other people what I do for 'work'.
When he makes me a slice of toast, it always has a bite taken out of one corner. He calls this 'tax'.
When I'm about to knock the children's heads together, he takes them away and tickles them.
He knows all the jokes and scripts from What's Up Doc, even though he doesn't particularly like the film.
He is willing to sing important conversations to the tune of Thomas the Tank Engine so that we can continue our discussions on car journeys.
No task is ever more urgent than answering a question I have about eschatology.
He agrees to boycott Nestle because I say so, but then forgets and buys me mint Aero because he knows it's always been my favourite chocolate bar.
When I make a deep philosophical comment about the worth of art once disconnected from its artist, he knows exactly what I mean and launches into his quite considerable thinking on the matter.
While at university, he was saving up cash in a biscuit tin under his bed to buy my engagement ring.
Over the course of our marriage he has, for the sake of our relationship, my sanity or the sheer fun of it, appeared on stage acting, singing and doing a dance with a chicken move. He has allowed me to stage slap him with a beach bag. He has learned to play the musical saw. He has become a ventriloquist dummy to entertain dinner companions. He has learned to ride a tandem. He has learned to change a cloth nappy. He has driven a VW camper van. He has driven the length and breadth of France several times. He has memorised all the words to You're the Top and Baby, it's Cold Outside.
He is, in short, wonderful, and I love him for far more than several reasons, some mental, some sentimental. Happy anniversary, dearling.
Still, on our anniversary, here are several mental reasons why I love TheRev:
He includes me in his eclectic tastes in music, even though I am still not sure what 'Creole' means musically.
He finances my self-employed career that is at times merely a glorified hobby, encourages me in it as a ministry and proudly tells other people what I do for 'work'.
When he makes me a slice of toast, it always has a bite taken out of one corner. He calls this 'tax'.
When I'm about to knock the children's heads together, he takes them away and tickles them.
He knows all the jokes and scripts from What's Up Doc, even though he doesn't particularly like the film.
He is willing to sing important conversations to the tune of Thomas the Tank Engine so that we can continue our discussions on car journeys.
No task is ever more urgent than answering a question I have about eschatology.
He agrees to boycott Nestle because I say so, but then forgets and buys me mint Aero because he knows it's always been my favourite chocolate bar.
When I make a deep philosophical comment about the worth of art once disconnected from its artist, he knows exactly what I mean and launches into his quite considerable thinking on the matter.
While at university, he was saving up cash in a biscuit tin under his bed to buy my engagement ring.
Over the course of our marriage he has, for the sake of our relationship, my sanity or the sheer fun of it, appeared on stage acting, singing and doing a dance with a chicken move. He has allowed me to stage slap him with a beach bag. He has learned to play the musical saw. He has become a ventriloquist dummy to entertain dinner companions. He has learned to ride a tandem. He has learned to change a cloth nappy. He has driven a VW camper van. He has driven the length and breadth of France several times. He has memorised all the words to You're the Top and Baby, it's Cold Outside.
He is, in short, wonderful, and I love him for far more than several reasons, some mental, some sentimental. Happy anniversary, dearling.
