Warning: Sappy Post About Marriage

I have many just a few guilty pleasures.

  1. Beanie Weenies. Yeah, it’s a thing. Every couple of months or so, this appears on the Hovie dinner menu. Curious? Smart Dogs + Amy’s baked beans + chopped onions + ketchup + dijon mustard = Beanie Weenies. Want to know why I believe it’s a guilty pleasure? Well, first off, this is delicious. Crave-able even. There you have the pleasure part. The guilty part? I can assure you, a picture of beanie weenies has never appeared on my Instagram feed. My youngest loves to threaten doing just that, however. Fortunately she knows just how good she has it living at home, so it hasn’t happened. Obviously, there is some guilt associated with this multi-ingredient food choice.
  2. The Bachelor/The Bachelorette. You know where you can find me on Monday nights from 7:00 until 9:00? Cuddled up on the couch in my jammies and sipping a glass of wine. No explanation needed for the guilty pleasure label on this one.

This past week I found myself yelling talking rather loudly at the tv.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What are you thinking?”

“How could you give her a rose?”

Anything for ratings.

(Now, just so we understand each other, I know this is just a reality tv show. I know that drama is part of the game plan. I get it.)

So why do I even watch?

Maybe I feel compelled to tune in each week because the whole thing makes me realize how incredibly fortunate I am.

My husband and I met on a blind date almost 30 years ago, before the days of dating shows and dating apps. Mutual friends thought we would make a good match. Turns out they were right. (Thank you, Jill and Tim!)

I remember our first date as clearly as any 50 year old can remember an event 30 years prior. I wore white pants and a red-white-and blue striped Land’s End rugby and he wore jeans and a yellow polo. I was rather impressed with his ’87 silver-if-you-own-it, gray-if-you-don’t Grand Am.

We drove to a supper club out in the sticks called the Century Elm. I could not tell you what I ate or drank, but I do know I didn’t spill anything. That I would have remembered. I was grateful we had friends along to make the whole ‘first date’ thing less awkward.

After dinner, we got high.

Now that I have your attention…

he had his pilot’s license, so we went flying.

Was I impressed?

You betcha.

Neither of us wanted the date to end, so afterwards, we scoured the newspaper (because that’s how you found out what movies were playing in the late 80’s) searching for a movie. I remember the title (rather embarrassed to admit what it was), but the movie itself was not memorable at all.

The next day, I eagerly anticipated his phone call.

But it never happened.

I was beside myself.

The following day he called, explaining his dad’s birthday had been the day before and it had gotten too late to call.

Made perfect sense.

Explanation accepted.

Our second date was a bike ride around Neenah.

We went sailing on the third.


By August, I had ‘talked him into’ a week of backpacking with some friends.


When summer turned to fall, I went back to school for my junior year of college. We saw each other just about every day. On the days I had night classes, he would drive down to school to eat dinner with me.

Nine months after our first date, he proposed. 18 months after he proposed, we got married.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

There aren’t many days that go by that I don’t thank God for bringing us together. My marriage has been one of the easiest parts of my life. I realize not everyone can say that.

(Now don’t get me wrong, he’s not perfect. I mean the man doesn’t drink coffee and prefers Mountain Dew to wine for crying out loud.)


I can’t imagine there being anyone more perfect for me than him.

He makes me feel special and loved.

Every year, on the anniversary of our first date, and on the anniversary of the day he proposed, and on our wedding anniversary, he sends me a dozen red roses.


I remember the fifth year anniversary of the day he proposed. The doorbell rang. I answered it wearing a bathrobe and carrying our 15 month old, feeling every bit of nine months pregnant.

I cried. I’m sure it was hormone related.

How could I have gotten so lucky?

He makes our relationship a priority. We spend a lot of time together, sometimes doing something special, and sometimes just doing nothing.

He makes me laugh. He has some great dance moves and one liners.

He tells me I am beautiful, even when I am wearing shorts and a t-shirt, have my hair pulled back into a ponytail, and am makeup free.

He kisses me goodbye and tells me he loves me every single morning before heading off to work.

He holds me when I need to be held, and knows when to talk and when to just listen.

He is always there for me and our kids.

We compliment each other well in so many ways.

I don’t know why God has blessed me, but I am so grateful he has.

So this week when ‘the show’ comes on, I won’t yell. I’ll smile and be reminded of how fortunate I am.








4 thoughts on “Warning: Sappy Post About Marriage

  1. Awe. How sweet! By the way- I know who made you your meal at the Century Elm. The father of a friend of mine owned the supper club until this summer. Small world.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s