A Good Day for a Good Man
Jed turned 32 on Friday, marking 17 of his birthdays that I've spent with him. One of his birthdays was spent at Sconecutter. You heard me right: Sconecutter. We were supposed to be at the symphony and some nice restaurant, but instead, I got the stomach flu, and the only thing that I thought I could eat was scones.
See, that's why I like Jed. He missed the symphony and went to Sconecutter with me on his birthday. And this year, we went to Wasatch's Fall Festival. And earlier in the day when we saw a unicyclist holding a bike lock, we both wondered about the necessity of the lock.
Over the summer I saw someone from junior high school days and when I looked to question Jed about whether it really was this person, he answered before I had a chance to ask. And tonight when our daughter was looking for a long lost art piece that was "one of her very very favorites" we both looked up at each other with the same wide, knowing eyes--both anticipating a very, very dramatic evening.
He thinks I'm funny and I think he's funny, so we laugh most of the time.
Neither of us can settle on a permanent place for flashlights or screwdrivers or hammers, so both of us check three different cupboards every time one of the items is needed.
He has a magic touch with Hazel whenever she has a melt-down. He has had much time to develop that talent because he's spent 10 years helping me.
Watching TV in bed or walking around Target isn't boring to him. In fact, he takes me to antique stores and enjoys being there.
And his cookies and dinners are better than mine.
And he has a cardboard deer head in his office.
Now you've fallen in love with him too, haven't you?