Your Husband Is Not A Girl, Ladies.
Yesterday, Blair and I went to the Promenade on Montague Street in Brooklyn. We wandered through the park and gazed at the city scene across the water. Blair was annoyed at my constant snapping of the camera. I quipped that he shouldn't have bought it for me if he didn't expect to be my muse. We compromised that I can only bring my camera every other date night. Sometimes I think that I forget I married a man. Of course he doesn't want to pose for me. He's not a girl! Four years of marriage and I'm still figuring this stuff out I tell ya. Are you too? Gosh I hope I'm not the only one.
How can you blame me though?! Isn't he so handsome?
We snapped some pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge and bought some tasty ice cream at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory.
Afterwards, we decided to get some pizza at Grimaldi's. For the life of me, I cannot understand why that place is so famous. We went there for the first time when we were on vacation here and I think I pretended to enjoy it because everyone else was fawning over it. This time I stand resolute in my conclusion that Grimaldi's is in fact the grossest pizza I have ever had. It tastes like cardboard salvaged from a house fire with a little tomato sauce on top. Gross.
On a sweeter note, Blair really is the sweetest husband in the world. I hesitate to post about things like this. The blogging world at times is a false facade of bliss and I worry about someone thinking we're better than we are, or comparing our "perfect" life to theirs and feeling bad. And so I preface this nugget of sweetness about my husband by telling you that we are every bit as real, imperfect, and evolving as you are. We fight over small things too and have our fair share of "companionship inventories" to figure out how to better communicate and interact. So don't give your husband a crusty after reading this.
When I got home from a grueling day filled with two hours of interviews in the morning, five one hour interviews back to back with the executive team of another company, and an unnecessarily long train/bus ride home, I walked in the door in tears. Waiting for me was this beautiful vase of flowers, a homemade note, chocolate, dinner, and the man of my dreams.
It read "I want to plant a tree and grow old with you."
And a note from my husband wouldn't be complete without his famous stick figures. I love it.
I'm one lucky gal. And so are you. Go give your husband a love.
How can you blame me though?! Isn't he so handsome?
We snapped some pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge and bought some tasty ice cream at the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory.
Afterwards, we decided to get some pizza at Grimaldi's. For the life of me, I cannot understand why that place is so famous. We went there for the first time when we were on vacation here and I think I pretended to enjoy it because everyone else was fawning over it. This time I stand resolute in my conclusion that Grimaldi's is in fact the grossest pizza I have ever had. It tastes like cardboard salvaged from a house fire with a little tomato sauce on top. Gross.
On a sweeter note, Blair really is the sweetest husband in the world. I hesitate to post about things like this. The blogging world at times is a false facade of bliss and I worry about someone thinking we're better than we are, or comparing our "perfect" life to theirs and feeling bad. And so I preface this nugget of sweetness about my husband by telling you that we are every bit as real, imperfect, and evolving as you are. We fight over small things too and have our fair share of "companionship inventories" to figure out how to better communicate and interact. So don't give your husband a crusty after reading this.
When I got home from a grueling day filled with two hours of interviews in the morning, five one hour interviews back to back with the executive team of another company, and an unnecessarily long train/bus ride home, I walked in the door in tears. Waiting for me was this beautiful vase of flowers, a homemade note, chocolate, dinner, and the man of my dreams.
It read "I want to plant a tree and grow old with you."
And a note from my husband wouldn't be complete without his famous stick figures. I love it.
I'm one lucky gal. And so are you. Go give your husband a love.
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