Sunday, May 3, 2009

Mr. Husband is ever child-like in his surprises and sneak-attacks. This morning, he snuck-attacked me good. I was still sleeping in my Thera-Flu-induced fever sleep, taking up the entire bed and rolling around on his pillow. He came bounding down the stairs with his kid voice all jumping around in his throat—he was excited. Nothing excites Mr. Husband more than surprising me with some new wonder or something wonderful that he’s done for me without my knowing. It’s like the love notes in our suitcases. It’s like the threatening notes I write on his lunch bag to warn others not to eat my husband’s lunch. It’s like the love letters that we write to each other from time to time and send via email even though we work within spitting distance of each other, drive to work together, and sleep on top of each other—always together. Even though we live the super smother lifestyle, we still need to let each other know that despite the incredible familiar and always being together, we are very thankful every day for each other.

Surprises are a wonderful way to express this sentiment. Celebrating each other’s birthday is the best way in the world to get the message out: I appreciate you!

The economy is bad. Everyone knows this. But I didn’t realize how bad until the memo came out about Birthannukah. Birthannukah, the festival of birthday candle lights, is being cut from a seven day holiday with seven nights of surprises and mystery to three and half nights of economically feasible magic that will fit into our house-murdered budget. Not my Birthannukah! Nooooooo! Killed by the economy. Not killed, but maimed. Seriously harmed.

Mr. Husband will work hard to see that Birthannukah still has a pop!

This morning, his bounding down the stairs was the opening ceremony. He handed me my iPhone and wanted me to see an email. Sweet, loving, wonderful man: he renamed my blog. What? What the blog!? Renamed my blog?! Sweet, loving, wonderful man—do not rename my blog! That is mine. But it was such a kind gesture. Up until today, the blog has been called, “Things I learned from my husband in our first year of marriage.” Well, technically, we are out of our first year of marriage. While we still feel like honeymooners, today is actually the year and a half mark from the day we were wed on the church steps at Riverchase United Methodist Church. An anniversary of such. So, sweet, loving, wonderful Mr. Husband renamed my blog to “Werewolf Lane.” Ok. Er ….

Good, but the Werewolf Lane joke is old (from last year when we were building the house). It’s not a constant that I carry throughout the writing. But—even better—he bought the domain for me. Amazing. Now that’s hot. He set up to direct to the blog. Sweet. But I am immediately concerned about all those werewolf freaks and Twilight kids who are looking for news about werewolves and annoyingly directed to my blog when searching for interesting facts about werewolves on I am a disappointment. These kids are finding themselves staring at an increasingly annoying blog about our stupid marriage and how incredibly, sickeningly, make-you-vomit-in-your-mouth happy we are. I can’t in my right mind do that to those little werewolf-obsessed kids. Poor kids. I will not be the cause of your disappointment and, most likely, scorn.
The domain remains, but the blog is clearly marked with its potentially annoying content being not for the werewolf at heart. Zombies will eat it up, but werewolves may find the taste of bile in their mouths.

Mr. Husband also announced “Happy Birthannukah” to me in the description of the blog. Sweet, loving, wonderful man! I love him! I laughed. Of course, I renamed the blog when finally getting upstairs to the library today. The blog is now called “Things I’m Learning From My Husband While Living on Werewolf Lane.” He was right to force me to rename the blog. It has a new face and a new domain! Score! Good start to Birthannukah.

He also bought the domain Sweet, loving, wonderful man! He said, “I know how much your name means to you.” See, I’ve never been able to make the full transition to “Stewart,” my married name. I am definitely Mrs. Stewart, I have a bag to prove it, but for writing and work—I retained my maiden name. I was 35 when I got married—I had established myself as “Klusendorf” in published articles and within the electronic publishing world. This gift from Mr. Husband—the gift of my name as a domain—was the most romantic and sweet-make-you-cry kind of thing he ever could have done. I do not insist on my maiden name and do go by “Stewart,” but it’s been too hard for me to let go of my name. Mr. Husband is making sure I never have to.

I love this man.

No wonder he was so excited. He cornered the economic setbacks and did for me for under $10. The most romantic gesture ever. He did for me. And he did good.

1 comment:

countrypeapie said...

That is seriously sweet. You are the master of your domain!